He braced himself against the bed
rail and leaned his face closer to hers. She smelled medicinal,
sterile. Her delicate bone structure, her pert nose, were masked
by thin, nearly transparent skin. He felt responsible. Guilty. He
must take care of her.
And Kate...? No. He couldn't let himself think about that right
now. He had to let Ivy know everything would be all right, that
he would take care of her.
He whispered her name and she stirred, eyelids fluttering. A thin
smile touched her lips, then she blinked a few times and her eyes
filled with tears. She let out a long breath through pressed
lips, closed her eyes, and made an anguished face. "I told myself
I wouldn't get like this when I saw you." She looked away.
"Hey," he said, touching her cheek. She pulled her hand from
beneath the blankets and wrapped her thin fingers around his. His
body stiffened at her chilly, tenuous touch. At once he felt pity
and fear. He was afraid for her life. She looked as if she were a
breath away from dying. She had all but destroyed herself. And
the baby? What had she done to the baby? He wanted to hold her,
tell her she was forgiven, yet he was the one who should be
asking for forgiveness. It was all so twisted.
"Don't," she said, pulling her hand away. "Just don't. I don't
know what I'm more disgusted about. Me, or you? I wanted you, and
you took me and then you threw me away.
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