Colt was at her side again, taking Jared’s place and putting a cool cloth on her forehead. She’d thought she was too cold for that, but the coolness of the cloth felt good on her heated skin. So long as she could stay beneath the covers, it was nice.
“I’m sorry, Colt,” she said, choking back tears of frustration and pain.
“Nothing to apologize for, baby.”
“I never get sick.”
“You’ve picked up a stomach bug,” Jared said. “The worst will be over in about twenty-four hours. Best thing you can do is rest and hydrate.”
“Thanks, Jared,” Colt said. “I appreciate you coming over.”
“She’s one of us, man. Least I can do.”
One of them? She didn’t know what that meant, but she liked the way it sounded.
“You gonna be okay if I show Jared out?” Colt asked.
“I just want to sleep.”
“Okay, baby. You do that. I’ll be here if you need me.” He stroked her cheek and then he got up to go with Jared.
Angie never heard him return.
Angie slept for hours. When she woke, Colt was there to give her water before she felt asleep again. He’d removed the IV and disposed of it after it finished dripping medicine into her.
Colt texted Jace, who told Maddy—who blew up Colt’s phone with worried questions and advice. Colt stepped out of the room to call her, reassured her that he would give Angie the platinum treatment, and agreed to a delivery of homemade chicken soup tomorrow. He could have made it himself, but it would keep Maddy busy. She’d also feel like she was doing something important for her best friend.
Oh, and he endured a chewing out for what happened at BDI earlier. Because of course Angie told Maddy at some point.
Maddy finished with “BDI would be lucky to have her.”
Colt couldn’t hide his surprise. “You want her to work with us?”
“I want her to do whatever makes her happy. I don’t think doing taxes is it. Anyway, take care of her, Colt. She’s used to doing everything herself and she won’t admit she needs help. I’ll bring soup tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Maddy. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. She’s not going to want for anything while I’m around.”
Colt had thought about bedding down in the pink room for the night, but when he went to check on Angie, the way she shivered beneath the covers meant he was going to slip in beside her and hold her. She didn’t wake when he climbed into bed—fully clothed in a T-shirt and workout shorts—or when he slid his arms around her and gathered her close.
She burrowed into him, sighing, and didn’t bat an eyelash. He ended up flipping the covers off his body, except where she snuggled against him, and powered up the television so he could watch something on low while she slept.
He needn’t have worried the noise would wake her. She opened her eyes once, looked up at him feverishly, mumbled something that sounded like “You won’t want me now,” and closed them again.
He stroked her hair, feeling protective and tender, and wished she felt better. She could have picked up a stomach bug anywhere. It had probably been dormant in her body for the past three or four days. According to Jared, the rapidity with which it hit her was common. One minute feeling fine, the next feeling sicker than crap.
Eventually, he fell asleep with Angie in his arms. It wasn’t a restful sleep since he was very aware of her beside him, and because she flailed in her feverish state. He’d been a special operator in the military and he’d learned to sleep in short snatches whenever necessary. He’d also learned to come awake instantly at the slightest disturbance.
It was that or die because you never knew when a tango was about to descend on you and kill your entire squad with a well-timed explosive device. Waking up quickly was a necessary skill in those days. Still was.
Sometimes, even that couldn’t save your squad. Sometimes they all died anyway, and you didn’t because somehow you were luckier that day than they were.
As Angie jerked and twitched in her sleep, Colt woke again and again. But he also dropped back into slumber pretty quickly too. His dreams were restless, but they didn’t descend into nightmare territory. He didn’t relive that day when everyone else died, thank God. He didn’t dream of it too often anymore, but it still had the power to turn him into a shaking mess when he did.
It was sometime early that morning, before first light but not too long before, that he woke to Angie saying something. It took him a moment to realize she was talking in her sleep.
“Miss having man b’side me.” He thought this must be what she sounded like drunk. Slightly slurred, words running together. “Long time, no ses.”
No sex?
“Miss it.”
Her hand roamed over him and he tensed. If she reached for his crotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop an erection. Simple biology. But she didn’t. She slid her hand over his abdomen, up his chest.
Then she flipped herself over and burrowed into the pillow, her sweet little ass right up against his hip. He resisted the temptation to shape that curve with his palm. Not without her permission. That’s not the kind of guy he was.
Colt stayed on his back. God forbid he turned toward her and she wriggled her butt into his groin. The hard-on would be epic. He put a hand behind his head, tried like hell to sleep again. Angie moaned in her sleep from time to time, but it wasn’t a sexy moan. She was hurting and he hated that for her.
Finally, he dropped off again. This time when he woke, light was streaming between the crack in the black-out curtains he’d put on the windows. Angie was facing him again, her body huddled up against him, her cheek on his chest. He carefully pressed his hand
