Beth.

It wasn't a drug-induced hallucination, no matter what he had thought when he first saw her standing there. Adam wasn't sure if he was happy to see her, or angry at Mikey for meddling. He should have known she'd try to do something, especially after her stupid fucking comment yesterday. Damn her—

Except he couldn't work up any anger, not really. Maybe it was just a side-effect of the pain medicine, part of the soft cloud of mellowness that wrapped around him, insulating him.

Or maybe it was because the sight of Beth standing there, looking so uncertain yet so worried, stirred something deep inside him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Something so different from the dull pain that had been hovering at the edges of awareness ever since he woke up yesterday.

Even before then.

He should say something, he knew that. But no words came to mind, nothing adequate. So he just lay there, watching her, his gaze drinking in the sight of her. She shifted, her gaze pulling away from his and darting around the room. She took a step forward, stopped, pulled her lower lip between her teeth then let out a shaky breath.

"I—I just wanted to drop these off."

His gaze dropped to the stuffed bear in her hand, with its fuzzy arms and feet poking out from the shiny black coat and pants. Adam's mouth twitched in a quick smile when he realized the little bear was a firefighter bear and that the outfit it was wearing was supposed to be turnout gear.

Beth moved forward, her steps quick, the sound of her heels clicking across the tile floor as she approached the bed. She placed the bear and the attached balloon on the rolling table at the foot of the bed and stepped back, one hand curled tightly around the strap of the purse hanging from her shoulder. She glanced at him, quickly looked away, and stepped back.

"I should probably go. You probably—"

"Stay." The word sounded desperate, almost like he was begging. Adam cleared his throat and tried to smile. "It's not exactly a quick trip back home, is it?"

"Oh. Um, no. It isn't."

Adam moved his left arm, pointed to the chair Mikey had occupied minutes earlier—the only chair in the room. "You can sit if you want. Might be more comfortable."

"You look tired. I don't want to bother you—"

"I'm fine."

She didn't look like she believed him. In fact, she looked like she was scrambling for an excuse—any excuse—to leave. If Adam was smart, he'd let her. Just thank her for the small gift and for stopping by then pretend to drift off. It would be easy enough—the drifting off part. The least little bit of activity or excitement was enough to exhaust him.

But he didn't want her to leave. He refused to examine why, didn't really care why. He just knew he wanted her to stay, at least for a little bit.

She hesitated long enough that Adam was sure she'd turn around and leave anyway. He didn't question the disappointment that washed over him—he'd figure it out later, when his brain wasn't quite so fuzzy with medicine and pain.

But instead of leaving, Beth slowly walked around the side of the bed and lowered herself into the chair. She placed her purse on her lap and held onto it with both hands, her grip so tight that her knuckles turned white. He saw her gaze skim along the hospital bed, quickly pass by the collection bag hanging from the side, move up to his bared stomach and chest. Her eyes finally met his. Wide, filled with emotion he couldn't read.

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy. A little awkward. Slightly uncomfortable. Adam wracked his brain, searching for something to say, anything to dispel the growing silence.

Beth cleared her throat, glanced over at him, looked away again. "Does it hurt? Never mind. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, of course it hurts."

"A little, yeah." He gave her a quick smile, worried that it looked more like a grimace. He nodded toward the table where she had placed the bear. "Would you mind handing me that cup?"

She jumped from the chair so quickly, Adam was surprised it didn't tip backward. Then she was standing next to him, holding the cup in one hand, steadying the bent straw with the other. He almost told her he could hold the cup himself, that he wasn't totally helpless—but he didn't. He simply tilted his head forward and closed his lips around the straw to take a small sip of water. Beth pulled the cup away when he was finished and placed it back on the table then stood there, looking everywhere except at him.

No, that wasn't quite true. Her gaze skimmed his body, resting on each bandage, each tube, each bruise. Moisture welled in her eyes. She blinked and turned away, taking in a shaky breath.

His gut twisted, filling with knots as his heart slammed into his chest. What the hell was that about? She wasn't crying for him—she'd probably do the same for anyone else she knew. He shouldn't read anything into it.

That didn't stop the warmth spreading throughout him.

"You, uh, you look good."

Her head spun around, her brows lowered over those beautiful green-and-gold eyes. She glanced down at her outfit—black pants, black sweater—then looked back at him and shook her head. "I came right from work. I mean I—I don't usually wear all black. I wouldn't normally wear all black to a hospital. I didn't—"

"You still look good." He raised his hand, let it drop back to the mattress before he could do something stupid, like reach for her. "Especially compared to me, right?"

Her eyes rounded in surprise and her mouth parted on a choked gasp. Had he surprised her? He wasn't sure why—it was nothing more than the truth.

"I didn't mean—"

"Beth, I was joking. Or trying to. It's okay, I have a pretty good idea how I look."

She nodded, her hands gripping the railing that kept him from getting out of bed. Stupid—it wasn't like he was going anywhere anyway, not anytime soon.

He noticed her staring at his chest. No, not his chest—at the sling holding his arm in place, at the tube poking out from his side.

"Chest tube."

Beth's eyes darted to his and a faint blush covered her cheeks. "I didn't mean to stare. I'm sorry—"

"Don't be." Adam lifted his hand again, let it fold over hers. She jumped, looked down. Adam didn't move, barely breathed as he waited. Would she move away? Leave? Say anything?

Seconds stretched into a minute, each one counted out by the beating of his heart. Beth's hand relaxed under his, her fingers slowly uncurling from the railing—

Then gently threading with his.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief then started coughing. Pain exploded in his chest, sent stars shooting in front of his eyes. He felt Beth tense, sensed her panic as she called his name. He tightened his hold on her hand, tried to shake his head and tell her he was fine. Several more coughs, not as deep, then he could finally breathe. He twisted his head, pulled in several shorts breaths of oxygen flowing from the mask resting next to him. "Fuck that hurt."

"Are you okay? Should I get someone? Do you need—"

Adam silenced her panicked words by gently squeezing her hand. "No, I'm fine. They say coughing helps. The ribs hurt like a bitch, though."

"What—what happened?" The question was soft, hesitant, almost like she was afraid to ask. He saw the concern in her eyes, and the worry, so he tried to give her a reassuring smile.

"We decided to take a shortcut to the second floor."

"A shortcut?"

"Yeah. The floor gave way under us."

"OhmyGod." Beth clamped her free hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with horror. Adam immediately regretted telling her. He should have lied, should have made up some story.

"It's not that bad."

"But you could have died!"

"It's going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me." And shit, she wasn't smiling, didn't understand that he was joking. She tried to pull away but Adam tightened his hold on her hand, keeping her in place. "Beth, I was only joking. It's not as bad as it looks. Honest."

"How can you joke about something like that? Look at you! You could have been hurt even worse. You could have died. I don't—"

"Would you have missed me?" And fuck, where the hell had that stupid question come from? Why the hell had he even asked her that? It was the medication, it had to be.

And now that he asked, he was afraid of the answer. He didn't want her to say no, didn't want to hear her tell him that she wouldn't have missed him at all. But was that how she would answer? She was here, after all. She wouldn't be here if she didn't care. Right?

He waited for the space of several heartbeats, long enough to let her answer if she really wanted to. There was only silence. Adam swallowed back the unwelcome disappointment and gave her a quick smile. "I was only joking—"

"Yes." Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat, her gaze focused on their clasped hands. "Yes, I would have missed you."

His heart slammed into his chest once more. He knew he needed to say something, knew he needed to respond somehow, but his mind was completely, thoroughly blank. And shit, he could feel her arm tensing, could feel her entire body tensing, knew he had only seconds before she pulled away. So he did the only thing he could think of—he tugged, hoping to pull her closer, hoping to get her to lean down for a kiss. She moved toward him, uncertainty in her gaze as he pulled her closer.

"I don't think—"

"Shh."

He tugged again and she leaned even closer, her mouth finally pressing against his. And God, she tasted so sweet, a balm to every ache and pain throbbing along his battered body.

He swept his tongue across her lips, sighed when her mouth opened for him. He ran his hand along her arm, cradled the back of her head and held her even closer. Tasting her, drinking her in.

She pulled away with a soft gasp, her wide eyes steady on his. He ran his hand through her hair, curled the pale ends around his fingers. Soft, so soft and silky.

He released her hair, ran the tip of one finger along her jaw and across her trembling lower lip before letting his hand drop back to the mattress.

"Thank you."

Confusion flashed across her face. Sculpted brows lowered over her eyes as she tilted her head, studying him. "For what?"

"For the kiss. For coming here. For caring."

"Adam, I—"

A nurse sauntered in with a metal tray, interrupting whatever Beth had been about to say. "How's the pain, Mr. Price?"

Adam kept his gaze on Beth as he answered. "Better."

The nurse stepped around Beth, barely sparing her a glance as she reached for the IV line and injected something into it. Fuck, he should have stopped her, should have told her he wasn't ready for it. He didn't want to slide back into the fuzzy grayness, not just yet, not while Beth was still here.

The nurse was talking about X-rays, saying something about removing the chest tube tomorrow. Adam didn't pay attention, he was totally focused on Beth. He reached for her hand again, curled his fingers around it, fought against the strong pull of the medicine.

"I should leave now—"

"Stay. Please." His lids drifted shut. He groaned, fought to open them, blinked and tried to focus on Beth. "For a little bit."

"Okay. I—I'll stay. Just for a while."

A ghost of a smile played around his lips. He squeezed her hand, trying to tell her thanks, trying to tell her how much that meant to him.

How much she meant to him.

Mumbled words fell from his lips, hurried and incoherent as the grayness finally washed over him, pulling him under.