Doc is asleep on a bed in the corner, looking utterly comatose with a blanket thrown over him, and the femme medic is standing off to one side at a counter, doing something.
I guess sheâs on night duty while Doc sleeps. Thereâs no one else there, and the lights are low, so the only brightness comes from the medic at her workstation.
The rest of the room is dim, even where Colton sits, and I can barely make out the low hum of his voice as he talks to her.
I click the door open as quietly as I can and move in quickly and silently, but he seems to know.
He immediately looks my way, catching my eye and then sliding his vision up and down me with an appreciative half-smile as he does.
~âYou look like a knockout and much like the old you. Although, why arenât you in bed?â~ he mind-links me, and, despite myself, I blush and make my way to him to stand beside him at the bedside.
I try to ignore the rise in heart rate and how overly aware I seem to be now that Iâm back beside him, wearing noticeably thinner clothing, so his body heat warms me by being close.
~âI couldnât sleep and figured you might want the bed, and I could stay with her.â~
Colton shifts in his seat, turns so he faces my way, hauls over another stool next to him, and pats it for me to sit.
âI donât want to leave her just yet. Sit with me, and keep me company.â He locks a look on my face.
That half-smile melts me with those overly cute dimples that set my belly alight.
I slide onto the seat immediately, too swayed by that face and hating myself for the obedience.
I know itâs probably stupid to cozy up beside him in the middle of the night, given the last time we got so close in here.
Still, something inside me is urging me to stay with him.
The desire is more potent than my will, and even though I try to sit away slightly, once he turns back to his mom, his shoulder and arm fit snugly against me and make me tremble with the effects of his touch.
That awareness zooms back in, and every inch of my skin tingles in recognition of his body heat, betraying me.
âWhat are you reading her?â I ask, focusing on something else and pushing him out of my mind, ignoring my traitorous body and trying so desperately to breathe normally as my breaths get shallow.
I hush my voice so as not to disturb the sleeping doc, and it veils how breathless Iâve become while this close to him in such an intimate setting.
âLady Chatterleyâs Lover. When I was young, it was her favorite book. She always read it in the garden while she watched me play, so I figured maybe she might like it.
âThe doc says she might be able to hear us, so I donât know⦠maybe itâs stupid.â
Colton reverts to that boy once more, the one I met and knew all these years, and it tugs at my heartstrings so deeply that I just have to touch him.
âItâs not stupid. Itâs sweet and shows you love her. If she is aware, then itâs probably nice to hear your voice and a story instead of noise and chaos and feeling ignored.
âI canât imagine what sheâs gone through,â I say. The tugging of my heart pushes me to lean against him and lay my head on his shoulder impulsively, seeking to be soothed.
I fit like he was made to have me curl up beside him, and he readjusts his position, so I slot right into him. He rests his cheek against the top of my head.
Much like me, it seems he has to respond to the pull and always touches me back whenever I'm close or touch him.
I hate that even when weâre no longer allowed or able to be together, our need to be this way overpowers everything else.
It stirs up so much ache inside me and brings that awful choking sensation back to my throat.
Iâm torn in my sadness for Sierra and driven by the force of his pull whenever heâs close. I know Iâm betraying myself by initiating the touch, and Iâm trying hard to fight it.
Colton is too easy and too inviting, like a safe harbor that calls to me to shelter from the cruel world, especially when Iâm feeling vulnerable, and tonight, this was probably a bad idea.
Iâve had no real sleep, my emotions are all over the place, and Iâm too tired to fight any of it.
âMaybe we can stay here like this until she wakes up, and I can stop thinking or feeling and just take a minute,â Colton says.
His voice is as soft as mine, hushed, and his breath tickles my forehead as he utters the words, igniting goosebumps and all sorts of crazy feelings and thoughts at his suggestion.
Itâs bliss to sit here with him like this for two days and ignore everything, pretend for a little while that this is all we need to care about.
Cuddling up doesnât sound wholly awful. It sounds like stealing a few last moments before reality sets in.
And I canât say Iâm against pretending for a little while that weâre okay and thereâs nothing wrong with his touch.
Colton takes my silence as an agreement and flips over the page of the book as though he intends to start reading to her again.
It pushes me to curl up against him all the more, settling in to listen.
I mentally chastise myself to pretend this is a frozen moment where nothing matters except listening to him read and watching her sleep.
âMy two favorite girls. What more could I want?â Colton slides his arm from between us, lassoes it around me, and pulls me in against his chest, fully igniting that sense of safety and security.
I melt and give up completely, sinking into his embrace and blotting out all the noise coming from my brain, all the words of warning and refusals.
I want to be held by him and cherish this moment to get through the rest of my life, watching him bonded to someone else.
His hand on the book slides away, and he places it on Sierraâs forehead instead, gently stroking her hair back and then resting lightly on her hairline as he leans in to see the words on the page.
I pull my feet up on the bar of the stool and drop my knees against his, drawing warmth in every area of my body now.
I slide one arm behind him, making the most of allowing myself to be immersed in his body.
I reach out gently and touch Sierraâs hand as instinct takes over; the need to let her know Iâm here too is all-consuming for some unknown reason.
The sudden compulsion to connect to her somehow completes this little circle we have going on.
âSheâs so very beautiful. You look like yourâ¦â
My words die on my lips as my fingers slide over hers, and I capture her hand in mine. A warming sensation travels from my fingertips, and something crazy happens to me.
My mind jolts with the force of an electric zap that yanks me closer to the bed, and I almost tumble out of Coltonâs arms, but he catches me, hauling me tight to him.
I gasp out loud as my brain somehow loses control of all its faculties, my vision whites out, blinding me insanely, so that I grab hold of his leg with my one free hand to steady myself.
I lose all ability to hear, feel, or see. The only sensation Iâm aware of is the burning connection from Sierraâs hand to mine and the same burn coming through Coltonâs arm around my waist.
The touch connects the three of us, consuming me until I canât fight it.
I entirely blank out, losing all sense of everything. I canât open my eyes or feel my limbs like Iâm a mass of unconnected thoughts with no physical form.
It all slips awayâhim, her, the roomâlike trying to hold water with your fingertips, and all I can do is ride with it.
I try to take a breath, but even that seems futile as Iâm nothing, lingering in airless space.
I find myself in darkness so eerie, yet familiar, as sounds and smells filter through and bring brief moments of time to the surface.
Itâs distant at first, as though traveling along a tunnel, and theyâre at the other end battling through a fog.
Theyâre not the infirmary; theyâre something else that tugs at my memory bank and draws me back in time as I fall into a memory I never knew I had.
The smells of summer push me into a brighter place, and I blink and slowly open my eyes, suddenly aware of touch and sensation as I regain complete control of my limbs, but thereâs no one here with me.
Colton isnât here. I canât feel or sense him, and I seem to be in another space entirelyâin a room lying down, one that haunts me from the past.
I lift my hand to touch my face and gauge the reality of what Iâm seeing, and Iâm startled to see itâs so tiny and childlike. I blink some more to clear the fogginess so I can look again.
Everything comes into focus slowly; it fades back in, and I immediately know where I amâthe small makeshift attic room, hastily painted pink by the family that took on a child whose parents had gone to battle.
Iâm back in the temporary space of my guardian family, back when my parents went to war.
I stare in wonder at the cozy bed, the painted dressers, and my ragdoll, Annie, who sits on the side of my bed, watching me in my slumber.
It brings back so many mixed emotions and memories, but none I can ever recall like this. This seems new, yet everything is here and precisely as I remember.
Itâs dull, nighttime, although itâs not complete darkness, so it must be summer.
I know Iâm supposed to be asleep, but something stirred me from my dreams of my mother and father running through our meadow in a game of tag.
My senses alert me to the window in the far corner, and I watch in terrified silence, a vulnerable child. Something begins to climb through with precise movements and silent intent.
My heart hitches, racing and pulsing so profoundly I feel it may rip from my chest. Iâm frozen in terror, unable to cry out for fear that the monster climbing in may see me if I make a noise.
The dark, shadowy figure, wearing a large, heavy, black cloak with the hood pulled up to mask their identity, slides up the unlocked panel of glass and slowly and carefully climbs inside.
They pull their heavy robes with them and almost soundlessly land on the space in front of my window.
I resist the urge to pull the covers over my head, my blood running cold with the terror of what is here, panic enveloping me as I try to call out for my caregiver in youthful hysteria.
âDonât be afraid, little one. Hush now!â The female voice comes from under the hood, silencing me mid-scream with its familiarity and a raised palm.
Iâm startled into silence because I know her. I recognize her smell, sound, and presence as it calms me, and she turns toward me fully.
All I can see are two electric blue, glowing orbs from the dark shadow of her hood as she looks directly at me. Her eyes are mesmerizing, and Iâve never seen such a color before.
âYou know me, Alora. Iâm here to protect you. Iâm Luna Sierra Santo. I come as a friend of your motherâs. Be still now. I have much to do.â