Washing my hair was a feat considering it hurt to raise my arms too high, and by the time I finished, the water was running cool. I shut it off, stepped out, and wrapped a fluffy towel around me. I rummaged in my suitcase until I found a pair of leggings and an oversized button up shirt.
I struggled for a solid ten minutes trying to brush my hair, and when I finally managed to get it untangled, I was out of breath and red-faced. Who knew not being able to lift your arms caused so many issues with everyday tasks? I slipped on a pair of socks, then headed downstairs, taking each step carefully.
“Chloe,” Jax admonished. “What’re you doing? The doctor said you’re supposed to be in bed, resting.” He was by my side before I could even comprehend his words.
“She said I needed to take it easy, no strenuous activity. She did not say I had to stay in bed,” I snapped.
The cabin was too quiet. And why was Jax was scolding me about not taking it easy when that was something Trent would normally do?
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“They had to feed.” Jax crossed his arms and watched me intently as I made my way to the bottom of the stairs. “We didn’t exactly leave while you were sick.”
“Oh.”
Maybe that was why Trent had been acting weird earlier—he wasn’t at normal strength, or self-control, because he hadn’t fed. Still, annoyance, hurt, and anger flared in my chest. Not more than thirty minutes ago, Trent was worried and upset that I’d almost died. Yet, as soon as I was awake, he took off and left me with his brother.
“They didn’t go too far. They’ll be back soon,” Jax said.
The smell of cinnamon and vanilla and butter wafted toward me. “Are you cooking?”
He nodded. “Before Trent left, he said you were hungry and wanted French toast. So, I’m making some.” He shrugged.
“Thank you.” My stomach grumbled again, and Jax grinned.
“C’mon.” He nodded toward the kitchen but waited for me to fall into step before he moved. “It’s almost done.”
I looked at the stools. There was no way I’d be able to hoist myself onto one without ripping my stitches, so I ambled toward the kitchen table. I pulled out a chair and sat. Just the little movements I’d done since waking had tired me out, and I yawned.
Jax appeared with a heaping plate of French toast and a bottle of maple syrup. He set them in front of me, disappeared, and then reappeared with a glass of chocolate milk.
A second later, he sat with an even bigger heap of French toast. I shook my head, smiling. I’d never understand how he always ate so much.
Pouring syrup over my food, I handed him the bottle, then took a large bite. I closed my eyes, moaning with delight at how good it tasted. When I reopened my eyes, I licked my lips. Jax stared at me with dark eyes.
“What?” I asked self-consciously.
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “So, you’re feeling better?”
“Yes. I’m a little sore and stiff, but I feel fine.” I took another large bite and washed it down with a mouthful of chocolate milk. “These are so good. Thank you for cooking.”
He nodded and shoved food into his mouth. We ate in silence. Jax finished his food long before I did, but I was taking my time, savoring each bite. I finally finished and pushed my plate away.
“Want more?” he asked.
I laughed. “If I eat another bite, I’m going to explode.”
He folded his arms on the table. It wasn’t like Jax to be so quiet. What was going on with him? Trent had been acting weird, too. Had something happened while I was in a coma?
I cleared my throat, nerves making it difficult to speak. “Doctor Mattias told me you gathered everything she needed to help me.” I reached over and placed my hand on top of his. “Thank you.”
Jax’s gaze was trained on our hands. He rubbed my wrist with his thumb, and goose bumps traveled up my arms. “I had help.”
“I heard what you said to me,” I blurted.
His hand froze. “What?”
“When I was in the coma… I heard what you said to me. I heard what everyone said.”
Abruptly, Jax stood, gathered our dirty dishes, and stalked into the kitchen. I sighed. What had I said to upset him? It wasn’t like he’d said anything horrible while I was out of it. In fact, he’d been very sweet. Unless he said more that I hadn’t heard…
The front door opened, and everyone rushed inside, laughing and smiling. I scrunched up my face in confusion. Was feeding really that much fun?
“Chloe.” Trent said my name with all the disappointment of a child who didn’t get the toy they wanted for Christmas. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“No, I’m not,” I snapped. “I’m supposed to take it easy, not rot away in bed.”
“Hey, easy.” Trent held up his hands in a show of surrender. “I just don’t want you to overdo it, okay?”
I nodded. Tears pooled in my eyes. Nothing was like it had been before I got sick, and I hated that. I attempted to blink back my tears, but a few trickled down my cheeks, and I quickly wiped them away.
“I’m sorry,” Trent whispered and took my face into his hands. He wiped my tears and placed a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Please don’t cry.”
I rested my head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. All I wanted was for things to go back to normal—well, as normal as they could be considering the situation. I wanted Trent to love me as fiercely as he had before I got sick, but I had a horrible nagging, gnawing feeling he didn’t.
“I think I’m going to
