He shrugs. “Didn’t seem like nothing. You got a thing for her or something?”
Elias lets out another funny noise, and I shoot him a confused look.
“No. Of course not,” I reply.
And my damn left eye twitches.
CHAPTER 11
FISHER
I didn’t paya bit of attention to the show we went to. I was too focused on the warmth of Ebba’s body beside mine. The smell of her perfume; sweet and floral. The soft caress of her long curls against my arm any time she moved slightly. The feeling of her leg against mine.
It’s after three in the morning and even though we’ve been back at the hotel for at least two hours now, sleep evades me.
Sitting up, I reach for the remote and turn the TV on. I can’t get my mind off of Ebba.
I’m sure a lot of people would tell me I’m pathetic for not moving on from her. But Ebba isn’t like anyone else.
There’s not much on TV, but I do find some superhero movie playing so I put it on for background noise.
Normally I’m better at reining in my feelings for Ebba. She, rightfully so, hates me. I knew this trip and the proximity to her wasn’t going to help things for me.
I let out a sigh and cross my arms behind my head.
I’ve never stopped missing her. The warmth of her body curled into mine. Her laughter when I tell a really bad joke. I wish desperately I could do things over—that we hadn’t kept things a secret, that I had seen her frantic calls and texts intime to get to her at the hospital, so she wasn’t alone. I’ve never forgiven myself for not being there. She shouldn’t have had to go through the loss of our child by herself. It’s not like I ignored her on purpose, but I’m not sure that makes it any better. I often wonder what things would be like if we hadn’t lost the baby. They’d be five, almost six years old now.
It's hard thinking about those what ifs.
A bang and immediate curse in the room next door has me sitting straight up. I’m out of the bed and moving to the door adjoining our rooms before I can stop myself.
I unlock the door on my side and knock on hers. “Ebba? Are you okay?”
“Shit,” she curses again. “Did I wake you?”
“I was already up. You gonna open up the door?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t sense my pure desperation.
I smile at her annoyed sigh, but a moment later the door opens. “I stubbed my toe,” she replies. “Guess I shouldn’t have had to get up and pee.” She bites her lip and looks down.
Her toenails are painted a sparkly teal color and her big toe on her left foot is bleeding a little bit.
Before I know what I’m doing, I scoop her into my arms. She lets out a little squeal and flails. “Put me down you giant oaf.”
I put her down—but not until I reach the bathroom counter in my room.
“You’re bleeding,” I tell her.
She exhales, her breath feathering against my neck where I’ve lowered my head to take her foot in my hand. Goosebumps pebble my skin, and I wonder if she notices that something as simple as her breath has me in a chokehold.
“Really?” Sarcasm coats the word like sticky syrup. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Shaking my head, I reach for my travel bag and dig around until I find antibacterial ointment and Band-Aids. Laying thatstuff on the counter, I grab a cloth and wait for the water to warm before I dampen it.
“Tell me if it hurts.” I carefully clean the blood off her toe. She’s silent as I work and I tap her ankle. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had worse than a stubbed toe.”
I graze my finger over the long scar that starts at her knee and goes down. “You have.” When the blood is all cleaned up, I smear the ointment around and then stick the Band-Aid on. Tapping her calf to let her know I’m done, she slides away from the sink, and I wash my hands.