Holmes
“Her hands clenched on the plain, white blanket, trying to work out what had happened.Her hand brushed something silky. She looked down and saw a dark head resting on the blanket by her hip.Adam. He was sitting on a small stool, his head on the bed, one hand on her leg. The tiny bit she could see of his face showed he was fast asleep.Her chest tightened and she gently stroked his hair.She’d met some great people at Blue Mountain Base. Courageous survivors, fun girlfriends, sexy, funny guys. She’d made friends and she’d enjoyed healthy, unattached sex with some of the single men. She’d found little glimmers of humor and normality in the dark realities of their new world.But she had no one to wait by her sickbed. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. No one who would truly care if she lived or died.She stroked the brown silk of Adam’s hair again.He stirred and lifted his head. He blinked, his hair falling over his forehead, a crease from the blanket on his cheek. For a second, he l...ooked younger, perhaps what he’d looked like before he’d taken on the responsibility for so many lives.He ran a hand over his face and her general appeared, the lines of strain bracketing his mouth, that little groove between his eyebrows she was coming to know so well.“You’re okay.”MoreLess
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