C81 Chapter Eighty One

He draped a blanket over her, then sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her pale lips and the bruised circles under her eyes. He picked up a cool lock of her hair, not wanting to wake her, but needing to touch her, even if it was only a silky tress wound around his finger.

He missed her. And he hated that she wouldn't accept his help. He hadn’t meant to put such a schism between them