By the time they finally came out of the bathroom, over half an hour had gone by.
Their clothes were both soaked, so Emmy grabbed two clean sets. She changed first, then helped James into his.
The dark circles under James’s eyes were impossible to miss. He looked absolutely wiped out, leaning against the headboard with barely enough energy to open his eyes. Even his voice sounded sleepy and rough.
“Okay, enough running around. Come here and nap with me,” he mumbled.
He’d been up all night in the woods, then spent the day dealing with a million things. Not even a superhero could keep going after that.
Emmy’s heart softened. She walked over and gently helped him lie down.
The second his head hit the pillow, Emmy slipped away to the little cot by the window.
When she woke up again, it was because someone’s warm breath tickled her cheek.
At some point, James had squeezed onto her tiny cot, still fast asleep, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.
With all his injuries, Emmy didn’t dare move a muscle.
Last night, when she helped him change, she realized just how battered he was. Besides the gunshot wound on his chest, his whole body was covered in scrapes and bruises. There was even a patch on his waist, about the size of her palm, where the skin was completely raw and bloody.
What had he been through that night?
She just lay there quietly, staring at the ceiling, until sunlight started pouring through the window.
A little after seven, James finally stirred beside her.
The very first thing he did was gently pull her hair out from under his arm, careful not to tug.
Only then did Emmy roll over to face him.
With a decent night’s sleep, the tired lines on his face had faded, making him look even more handsome and refreshed.
He looked at her, his voice low and raspy from sleep, with a hint of a teasing smile. “You’ve been up long? Why didn’t you wake me?”


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