Chapter 11: Rule One

I woke up on a hospital bed with a drip in my arm and Ronan Keyes standing at the foot of it, out of breath.

His coat was open and his tie was crooked.

He had run up four flights of stairs, and I could hear him still breathing.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Say that when a doctor says it."

"A doctor did say it. I skipped breakfast and lunch and I walked to the bakery in the cold." I tried to sit up. "Kerry tells everyone everything."

"She told me," Ronan said. "I'm everyone."

His voice shook on the last word, and he heard it, and turned toward the window.

I looked at his back.

The shoulders in the expensive coat were stiff.

"You were supposed to call me," he said, not turning.

"Kerry did."

"The rider was that you call me. I said it on the curb."

"I know what you said."

"You fainted, Jessa."

"I'm sorry."

He turned then, and the anger went out of his face, and what was left was worse.

He crossed the room and put his forehead against mine.

He didn't kiss me.

He only held still, with his hand cupped around the back of my neck, and breathed.

"Rule three," I said.

"I'm not touching you. I'm resting my head."

"That's touching."

"It's a technicality," he said, into my hair.

I laughed, and it came out as something else, and I let him hold me.

The doctor discharged me at five with a lecture and a bag of crackers.

Ronan carried my tote to the car.

He drove us to the river, and I didn't argue.

In the freight elevator he stood a careful foot away, and his jaw worked.

I watched the numbers climb.

"I'll make soup," he said when the doors opened.

"You can't make toast."

"I can read a recipe."

He found a can of tomato soup in a cupboard that held nothing else.

He heated it on the stove with a look of terrible concentration, and set the bowl in front of me, and watched me eat every spoonful.

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