What Doesn't Kill You(43)
“Ouch.”
“Zach?” Annie’s voice filtered down the hall. He tried to sit, to look normal and unaffected when she got there. He couldn’t get his arms to move. “I brought you some dinner, since I figured you—Zach.” She dropped the plate on the night stand and helped him turn over. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” he whispered.
“Oh, honey. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting so much?” She stacked the pillows, slid him back until they propped him up. “I want you to rebuild your strength, not try to finish yourself off. Your mom would never forgive me.”
“I just—I don’t want to feel like this.”
“Vulnerable?” He nodded, staring at the far wall while she took off his shoes. He reached for the sheet, and managed to pull it up. He didn’t think he could stand having her help him change. His sweats were good enough to sleep in, at least for tonight. “Look at me, Zach.” He did, knowing she’d just wait him out. “You were pretty damn close to dying. It’s going to take time, and it’s going to take patience. But if you give me both, I promise you’ll be much closer to the old you by the time your mom comes back from her honeymoon.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart and pinkie swear.” She held out her pinkie. Smiling, Zach linked his to it, feeling better already. Her ring sparked, the blue glow spreading over their fingers, warm and soothing. “Now, this is your final assignment for the day. Eat everything on your plate and go to bed. TV is allowed—just turn it off before you pass out.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
Annie smiled, and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Good night, soldier.” She handed Zach his dinner, and his mouth dropped open. A twelve ounce porterhouse from Billie’s. He recognized the cut, and the scent of the marinade had him drooling.
“Thank you, Annie.”
“You earned it. Just leave the plate on the night stand—and turn the TV off before you crash.” She paused in the doorway, blew him a kiss. He didn’t mind it as much as usual, or the harping about the TV—not after she brought him steak. “Get some rest. That’s an order.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Annie was back to her old self; no more biting comments or awkward temper tantrums. He had missed this Annie, and she looked even happier, Elizabeth riding one shoulder, sound asleep and drooling down Annie’s sleeve.
The only other reminder that she’d been pregnant was the small pooch on her lower stomach. Zach knew better than to mention that. Again.
He dug into the steak, while he still had the energy to cut it. Rubbing Elizabeth’s back, Annie smiled and started to close the door. “See you in the morning, Zach.”
He nodded, too intent on his steak to answer. The first piece hit his tongue, and he groaned, chewing it slowly, savoring. Then he gave in and devoured, his appetite roaring back.
Before he knew it, the steak, and potato, and even the pile of asparagus were all gone. It took all his control not to lick the plate clean. With a satisfied smile, he picked up the remote, clicked the TV on, and leaned back against the mound of pillows.
If he ate this well after every torture session, he might just survive it.
*
“Zach. Wake up, Zach—I don’t know how much time I have. Come on, son, I need you to wake up.”
The voice drove through him, yanked him out of a sound sleep. He bolted up, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings. His first thought was that he left the TV on. Until he looked at the dark screen.
“What the—oh, man.” He clutched his head, pain bouncing around the inside of his skull. “No more steak right before bed.”
“I don’t think it was the steak.”
He froze, recognizing the deep voice. The voice he could not possibly be hearing. Slowly, he raised his head. And stared into Simon’s eyes.
“No—” He scooted across the bed, tumbling to the floor. Pain flashed through his right side. “This is a dream. You are not here. I am not seeing you right now—”
“Sorry for the bad news.” Simon moved around the bed, crouching in front of Zach. “But you are wide awake.”
“What—how did you—damn, my head hurts.”
“Join the club.”
Zach stared at him. “But you’re a—” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “How can you feel—anything?”
“Another question to add to my growing list.” Simon stood, pushing hair off his forehead. “I don’t know how much time I have, so I’m going to get straight to the point. I’m here to help you.”