ログインFawn’s POVI forced myself not to touch my mouth. “Why,” I said, “does every conversation that starts that way end badly?”“It was a mistake,” he said. Clean. Direct. No hesitation. Of course.“Yep,” I said. “There it is.”“You’ve just woken up,” he went on, ignoring my commentary. “You’re disoriented. Your personality…” His mouth compressed briefly, like he hated the word. “You are not behaving like yourself. I reacted to that. I shouldn’t have.”“Do you often kiss people you think are having personality glitches?” I asked sweetly. “Just to, what, test your hypothesis?”Colour climbed along his cheekbones. Barely, but it was there.“I’m not going to… blur lines with you,” he said. “We were bad at that the first time. It almost destroyed us both. I’m not offering a… how did you put it, a sequel.”“Relax,” I said, forcing a shrug. “I have no interest in begging you to ravish me in my hospital bed. My standards are low, but they’re not floor-level.” That was a lie; my body would have qu
Blake’s POVI should have let go the second my hand closed around her wrist.That was my first thought when my brain caught up to my body. Not I’m glad she didn’t fall. Not she shouldn’t be walking around without help.No. Just: let go. Don’t touch her.Instead, I dragged her closer.One heartbeat later she was right there between my knees, bare legs and flimsy gown and wide ice-blue eyes. Cassie’s face. Cassie’s mouth. Words died in my throat and I did exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do again.I kissed her.And she kissed me back.Her mouth opened under mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. I felt that bolt of heat go straight down my spine to my cock, like my body had been waiting six months for this exact contact and my fucking brain had forgiven who Cassie was.It pissed me off.I pulled away from her just in time.“You will not pull me in again, Cassie.”My voice didn’t sound like mine. It sounded like it had gravel in it, like every argument we’d ever had was lod
Fawn’s POVWhen I opened my eyes again, the lighting had changed. Someone had turned off the overhead lights and put on a small light over the bed. It was also dark outside. The clock on the wall said I’d only been asleep for a few hours, but it felt longer.Blake was still there.Only now he wasn’t reading or glaring or watching me like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.He was asleep. Why was he still here? He didn’t love Cassie… was, in fact, in the process of divorcing her.The chair had turned into a makeshift bed, his long body slouched back, head tipped sideways against the wall, one hand still resting on his stomach, fingers slack. His other arm lay along the armrest, close enough that if I reached out, I could touch him.His face, without the constant control, looked different. Younger. Less like a power-wielding CEO.I stared.Something in my chest did a weird little twist.Of all the people to end up near in the second half of my life—or whatever this was—how had I got the one man
Blake’s POVI saw then what I hadn’t let myself look at before. The deep grooves bracketing his mouth. The way his shoulders sagged when he thought no one was watching. Guilt, yes. But not just about me. About every decision he’d made on this ward for three decades.“No,” I said after a beat. “What I want is simple. I want you to admit you don’t know what’s going on in there.” I jerked my chin in the general direction of Cassie’s room. “I want you to stop talking about her like she’s a chapter in a textbook. Start looking at what went wrong.”He exhaled slowly. “We are not pretending to have all the answers, Mr. Huntington. We’ll… review our processes,” he said. “I can promise you that.”“You’d better,” I said. “Because if you ever tell another family there’s no hope when there is, and I find out you haven’t changed a damn thing, I will bring every lawyer I own down on this place so hard they’ll feel it in the basement.”That, at least, was familiar ground. Threats. Leverage. Conseque
Blake’s POVAnger had been sitting in my chest all day like a weight. I’d been ignoring it. I’d had better things to do.But the anger was at the situation I found myself in.I had listened to doctors tell me, again and again, that there was no hope.No neurological function.No chance of recovery.Brain dead.I could still hear the older consultant’s voice in my head, calm and impersonal, as if he was discussing a faulty engine instead of my wife.Ex-wife. Almost ex. Didn’t matter right now.Six months of me standing in this shitty room twice a week, looking at a stranger’s body with my wife’s face and hearing the same refrain.She’s gone.So why the hell had the “clinically brain dead” woman just sat up and told me she’d been murdered?My jaw tightened.
Fawn's POVOne corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m starting to notice.”We let that sit there for a second, thickening the space between us. The air felt heavy with everything neither of us was saying. I shifted, suddenly aware again of the flimsy gown and how exposed my legs felt under the thin blanket and the backless gown.“What happens when they decide I’m not going to drop dead mid-MRI?” I asked, if only to get us off the topic of what I felt like. “Do they keep me here? Ship me off to some rehab center with group therapy and inspirational posters?”His expression shuttered. “No.”“No?”“You’ll come home,” he said. “To the penthouse. It’s secure and private. It’s where you lived before. It makes sense.”Home. The word scraped something raw inside me. Not Fawn’







