There must be some unwritten rule stating that hospitals have to be cold and uncomfortable. I wake up freezing and I’m the one covered up with a blanket. Sierra is curled up in a chair, goose bumps broken out on her arms. Her head is resting on her shoulder as she sleeps.

Carefully, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I’m hooked up to so many damn lines it takes a minute just to stand without pulling something lose. I take the blanket and a few steps to Sierra when someone knocks on the door.

Sierra jerks up, blinking as she looks around the little room, trying to remember what’s going on.

“Chase?” she asks. “What are you doing?”

“Good question,” the nurse echoes, standing in the doorway.

I give Sierra a smirk and hold up the blanket. “I was going to smother you in your sleep.”

She smiles right back. “I thought we already established blankets don’t make good murder weapons. I’m actually disappointed. We’re in a room full of objects you could use to kill me and you go for the blanket.”

“That’s my girl.” Aware the nurse is staring at us like we’re crazy—and probably wondering if she should call security—I go to Sierra. “I thought you were cold.”

“I am, but you shouldn’t be up, right? It’s only been like six hours since your surgery.” She turns to the nurse.

“Right. Well, not alone. Getting up and walking is good for you, but with assistance.”

I roll my eyes and sit back in bed. I’m still tired, and in more pain than I expected. Sierra leaves to use the bathroom while the nurse assesses me. She brings me pain medicine and two extra blankets. I move over as far as I can in bed, making room for Sierra when she returns.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Sierra asks, covering us up. “These beds aren’t made for two.”

“It feels good having you next to me.”

“Good, because I’m going to be here with you for the next few days.”

“Go home. You’ll be bored sitting here. I’m already bored.”

Sierra shakes her head. “I’m not leaving.”

“I could be here for a week.”

“I’m staying right here for the next twenty-four hours at least.” She tips her head my way, and I see tears in her eyes. “I need to make sure you’re okay,” she whispers. And then it dawns on me just how hard this must have been on her…and how hard it still is. Going to the hospital to see my nephews created too much anxiety, and here I am in the ICU, with IV antibiotics, trying to fight off a serious infection. When I really think about it, it even freaks me out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise and take her hand, moving the IV tubing out of the way.

“You better not.” She lets her head fall against my shoulder, and I feel a weird sense of peace, despite the discomfort I’m in.

“Sierra?”

“Yeah?”

“When I woke up after surgery…I told you I thought I loved you. That was a lie.”

She sits up, eyes widening. “A lie? So you…you don’t?”

“No. I don’t think it. I know it. I do love you.”

* * *

“Morning,” the nurse says, opening the door the moment after she knocks. Sierra opens her eyes, blinking a few times, and sits up. She’s not a light sleeper, and it takes her a full minute to wake up. I find it amusing yet adorable. Seeing her get up with ease lets me know she never fell deep asleep last night.

“Morning,” I respond.

“How are you feeling today?” she asks and shuts the door behind her. She pulls the curtain around the bed, preparing for a full assessment. I grumble and start to sit up. Sierra gets out of the bed and smoothes the blankets over me. She stretches her arms and rolls her neck. I know she was uncomfortable all night, worrying about squishing me or pulling out the IV. Selfishly, I liked having her next to me all night.

“Good. Can I go home now?”

The nurse laughs. “Not quite. You’re going to be here with us for at least another day.”

Sierra goes to use the bathroom while the nurse checks me over. I’m in the middle of getting more blood drawn when Sierra comes back.

“Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria? I’m gonna head down for breakfast.”

“Sure. Whatever you get is fine. And a black coffee.”

The phlebotomist shakes her head. “They probably won’t let you have that.”

“I won’t get the coffee,” Sierra says and shifts toward the door. She hesitates, looking back at me, eyes full of unspoken worry.

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” I assure her, offering a small smile.

“You better be,” she replies quietly and walks out the door, not returning for nearly half an hour.

“Sorry,” she says as soon as she’s back in the room. Empty handed, I might add. “Turns out I’m not allowed to bring food in here and whatever you eat has to be approved by the doctor. You’re on a ‘special diet,’” she tells me, making quotes with her fingers.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“I don’t fuck with food. They had good biscuits and gravy downstairs too.”

“I’ve never liked that. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t bring me any.”

Sierra laughs and sits at the foot of my bed. “I ate yours anyway. Do you want me to get the nurse and find out about breakfast for you? Are you hungry?” She gets up and inspects the monitors. “I have no idea what any of this means.”

“Neither do I.” I sigh. “But I do know I want this shit off so I can go home.”

Sierra half smiles, giving me a weird look.

“What?”

“You’ve never called it home before.”

She’s right, I haven’t. I never intended to, and saying it right then was a slip. But it’s true. “It never felt like it before.” I take her hand. “I’m realizing I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“I was looking for a place to call home, but now I know home is a feeling. When we’re together, I am home.”

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes glossing over.

“I love you, too.”

She leans over the bed and kisses me, and I want nothing more than to pull the curtain and fuck her hard. Never mind that my body is weak, I’m fighting off a nasty infection, and I was cut open a few hours ago.

Sierra’s phone rings and the Game of Thrones theme song fills the room. She frowns when she picks it up, silencing the call.

“It’s Lisa,” she explains.

“Are you going to answer?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should,” I encourage. “I know it upsets you to fight with her.”

Sierra nods and answers the phone. “Hey,” she says and pauses, listening to whatever Lisa has to say. “Yeah, last night. And I think so. I hope so.” She pauses again. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but I can’t worry about that now.” Another pause, this one longer than the others. “Uh, well I don’t think they’ll let you in the room or anything since you’re not family. They’re strict in the ICU. I was worried they wouldn’t let me in since I’m just his girlfriend. But if you do come up, I could use clothes, my phone charger, and a toothbrush.”

Just his girlfriend. I play her words over in my head. She didn’t mean it as an insult, no, not at all. So why does it feel like one? I watch Sierra talk on the phone, pushing her messy hair out of her face. She has on the same clothes she did yesterday, barely slept at all, and hasn’t once complained.

The words are insulting because she’s everything to me, and the stupid label implies a lesser bond. According to the hospital, anyway.

“Lisa is going to come up here,” Sierra tells me and sets her phone on the bedside table. “I think she feels bad for being a dick yesterday. Two days ago? What day is it? I don’t even know.”

“Lay down next to me,” I tell her. “You need to sleep.”

“You need to more and I know you’re not comfortable with me in bed next to you.”

I smile and shake my head. “You’re impossible, Sierra Belmont.”