“Rafe dragged the blankets from his body and tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea roiled his gut. Where was he? His head pounded, his shoulder hurt like hell, and his mouth felt like he had picked a field of cotton with his teeth. He cracked open one eye, the light stabbing like a saber. Why was he in bed? What had happened? Was he sick? Slowly, he turned his aching head. Maggie slept in the chair with her head face down on the mattress. He reached out and ran his fingers over her cheek. Good L...ord, was she sick? Why wasn’t she in bed with him? “Maggie?” he rasped. She bolted upright. “What is it?” Bleary eyed, she blinked and swiped the hair from her pale face. She looked like hell. Maybe they were both sick. She immediately reached for his forehead. “You’re not feverish,” she mumbled sleepily. “A re you cold? You feel cold.” The covers were pulled to his chin before he could answer. He tried to shake his head. “Thirsty.” God, it hurt to talk. “Oh, Rafe.” Her eyes filled with tears.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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