“Here,” he muttered, shoving them at her.
“Give me a minute?” she asked, and instead of leaving, we turned our backs to her.
“Okay,” she whispered a moment later, and we turned to her again.
We tucked her in together. Cole checked her temperature immediately.
“101.8. Coming down.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s not down enough.” He was already checking his phone alarm, making sure it was set for an hour from now.
“Cole—”
“What if it spikes again? What if the medicine wears off, and we’ve fallen asleep?”
“Then we handle it.” I squeezed his shoulder. “We’ve got her. She’s going to be okay.”
He nodded but didn’t look convinced, already adjusting her blankets again.
“You don’t have to stay,” Eva whispered, half-asleep already.
“Go to sleep, sparrow. Stop fighting for one fucking night.” Cole’s voice was raspy and tired.
Cole jerked his chin at the chair, telling me to take it. He settled onto the floor beside her bed, resting the back of his head against her mattress.
Eva’s breathing evened slowly. The fever made her restless, shifting in her sleep. Every time she moved, Cole tensed, ready to help if she needed anything.
I sat there in the dark, listening to her breathe, and let myself feel everything I’d been holding back—the fear, the desperate need to fix this, to prove I could be what sheneeded, the love I had no right to feel for someone I’d hurt so badly.
Around three, she woke, blinking at us in the darkness.
She reached down and touched Cole’s hair, gentle and tentative.
“Go back to sleep, sparrow,” he said softly. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
My throat closed around everything I wanted to say to her. “Always, kitten.”
30
COLE
I breezedpast the receptionist on the executive level of Carter Industries, only for her to squeak and run after me. “Mr. Carter! Mr. Carter! You can’t go up there!”
I turned, an eyebrow raised, well aware I was the spitting image of my father in my designer suit, my hair slicked back, cruelty etched into every line of my face. “Why not?”
“There’s a board meeting today,” she said, raising an eyebrow as if I were a fucking idiot. “Your father’s busy.”
“I’m invited,” I reminded her. I took a bracing breath and pushed through the double doors of the room.
My father looked up from the head of the conference table, surprise on his face.
“Son,” he said carefully, “I’m glad you made it.” Anyone who didn’t know him would think he meant every word, but I heard the subtext—what the fuck?
I swallowed then looked around the table, unsure where I should sit. I hadn’t taken my place on the board when I inherited my shares at eighteen, and my father had held my proxy ever since.