Fated Lies (Lies 3)

My sleep is restless between the cool floor, my aching shoulder, and Liesel sleeping so far away. I shouldn’t be so needy. I shouldn’t need Liesel snuggled up against me in order to sleep. I shouldn’t need her at all.

And yet, in the short time we’ve been together, I’ve found myself needing her more and more. I’m going to have to detox from her if we ever get out of here.

I roll over and groan, forgetting that my left arm is just as injured as my right. I flip back onto my back and sigh. There is no way I’m going to get any sleep. I should start coming up with a plan to get out of here, but honestly, I can’t think with the pain surging through my body. There is nothing to distract me now.

“Hmmm,” I hear Liesel hum, and I glance over through the dark to where she’s asleep on the floor.

I smile. I may not get to hold her in my arms, but at least I can listen to her while she sleeps.

The humming changes into a soft snore. I’m thankful that she can sleep. It will be easier to face tomorrow if she’s rested.

“Are you awake?” she asks suddenly.

“Yes, but I’m fine. You should go back to sleep, Liesel.”

Silence. I assume she’s closed her eyes and is drifting back to sleep. She probably won’t even remember waking up in the morning.

“Does this hurt?” she asks, as she touches my left arm.

I nod.

Even in the dark of night, I can see her brow furrow, and her lips turn downward.

“Don’t look so sad on my account. I’m fine, huntress.”

“If you were fine, you’d be asleep. How bad is the pain?”

“Not bad enough that you need to worry.” I look at her chest. “How is your pain?”

“You can’t change the subject that easily. We are talking about you, not me.”

“I’d be better if you slept on my chest; that way, I can listen to your soft snore easier while I fall asleep.”

“I don’t snore,” Liesel pouts.

I grin. “You do, too. Now come here.” I hold out my left arm for her to snuggle against my chest. It will hurt my arm, but I don’t give a damn about that. All I want is to feel her warm body against mine.

She moves to lay on my chest and then hesitates. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Although, that’s a lie. She’s already hurt me in every way that she can. It will hurt to have her lying on my arm all night, but not as much as not having her lie on my arm.

Slowly, she lowers herself down until her head is resting on my chest. My left arm hugs around her, and I force myself not to grimace when some of her weight pushes back on my arm.

“I think I’m beginning to figure out your tells,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell when you are hiding your pain. You don’t show the usual reactions. You try to overcompensate so no one knows you’re hurting. You smile instead of grimace. You talk instead of suffering in silence. You ask me to snuggle with you instead of asking me to hold you. You soften instead of stiffening as a way to cushion the pain. You don’t have to hide your pain from me. I understand it more than anyone. I know how strong you are.”

“You think I hide my pain because I’ll look weak if I don’t?”

She thinks for a moment, then nods.

“I hide my pain because I don’t want to worry you. I don’t want to be taken care of. It’s the same reason you don’t want me to know about your pain. If I’m nice to you, it erases some of our history, some of the evil things we’ve done to each other.” I pause. “Taking care of each other now while we are under duress and have no one else to rely on doesn’t change anything between us. After we get out of here, we’ll go back to being enemies. Deal?”

She smiles softly. “Deal. Now, let me help distract you from the pain.”

I pull her close to me, assuming she means by snuggling or, if I’m really lucky, by kissing me.