“I have no fucking idea how I didn’t hear that shit in your bedroom. I wish you could have called my name or something. I’m so sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” His muscles tensed, and I blankly stared at him.
I was struck by the realization that Till had no idea what had really happened in my bedroom. He thought he’d slept through it, and the guilt on his face was staggering. There was no way in hell I was telling him that I’d screamed for him repeatedly or that I’d prayed his name over God’s as I’d roused back to consciousness. He didn’t need to know that. Ever.
“You got there. That’s all that mattered.” I plastered on a fake smile that hurt my lips.
Only two nights earlier, Till had said, “Bless you,” when I’d sneezed. There was no possible way he could have slept through my cries for help. Something was going on, and I couldn’t decide which was more worrisome—the fact that his hearing had suddenly gotten a lot worse or that he didn’t even truly realize it yet.
To test the theory, I tucked my head low and kissed the muscular curve of his chest. I thought of one single statement that I knew would send Till scrambling. In a voice loud enough that he should have easily been able to make out, even without looking at me, I said, “I don’t think we should be together.” I lifted my head to catch his eyes with a questioning look. “Is that okay with you?”
His hazel eyes searched my face for the question as my own begged for a reaction to my false statement. All the while, I prayed that I was wrong.
“Yeah. That’s fine,” he soothed with a smile that splintered my heart.
My chin began to quiver. I didn’t care if Till Page went blind, deaf, mute, and dumb—but I knew he cared. I rolled over so he wouldn’t see me cry the tears he wouldn’t understand. With as many black eyes as I had broken ribs, I sobbed for the man whose strong arms held me safely tucked against his chest.
“Shhhh. I’ve got you. I swear on my life, Eliza. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again,” he whispered into my hair.
The day had been exhausting, and within minutes, the talking was done and sleep overtook us both. Till held me painfully tight, but I never once moved away. I needed to feel him as much has he needed to hold me.
“Till! Oh my God! Get up! It’s seven. You’re late for work.”
“Mmm,” is all he said as he flipped over onto his stomach.
“Get. Up!” I hit his back. “You didn’t set the alarm.”
“I’m not going to work today.”
“Are you fucking nuts? Get up! You don’t get paid if you don’t go to work.” I sat up and my entire body screamed. I felt nauseated, from the pain as my ribs revolted. “Oh, God.”
“What the hell are you doing? Get back in bed.” Till was suddenly on his feet and shifting my legs back under the covers.
“I was gonna make you some coffee. You have to go to work.” I groaned, holding my stomach.
The pain ebbed as I reclined onto my back. As long as I didn’t move, nothing hurt. I was about to take up permanent residence in Till’s bed. I could think of worse places to live though.
“Just be still. I’ll make you some breakfast. You’re good with ramen, right?” He smiled a teasing grin.
“You don’t have time to make me breakfast, and especially not ramen. You have to go to work!”
“I told you I’m not going to work today. So just relax and let me take care of you.” He put his hands on his hips, but his eyes were dancing with excitement.
“You can’t miss work. And why are you looking at me like that?”
“’Cause I have a secret,” he said proudly.
“Is it that you won the lottery? Because I will repeat: you don’t get paid if you don’t go to work.”
“I’m quitting my jobs.”
“Okay, I’m having you committed. Maybe it’s too many punches to the head or something, but you have definitely lost your mind.”
He barked out a laugh. “Nope. I got a new job.” His smile was so wide that I worried his lips wouldn’t be able to handle the stress.
“Um, what kind of new job?” I asked suspiciously.
“It pays double what I was making before. The boss is a good guy, although he can be a real asshole sometimes. It’s not far from here, so I’ll be able to save on gas money. Oh, and you’re off duty for taking the boys to the gym in mornings.”
“It pays double?”
“Eight hundred a week.” He continued with the weird smile and evasive answers.
“Stop screwing with me. What the hell kind of job is this?”
He seemed to be enjoying my frustration, but he finally spilled it. “Slate’s gonna bankroll me so I can go pro.”
“What?” I breathed in shock.
Somehow, Till’s smile grew impossibly wider.
“Shut up. Are you serious?”
“Yep.” The pride on his face as he answered with that one syllable was something I’d never seen him wear, but God, it fit him.