He started to bring her hand to his cheek, stopped. “Her fingers moved.” His voice trembled as he squeezed her hand tighter. “Her fingers moved.” He shoved out of his chair to touch her face. “Cill. Cill. Come on, Cilly, please.”
“Keep talking to her,” Eve ordered when Cill’s lashes fluttered.
“Wake up. Please, Cilly, wake up and look at me. Can’t you just look at me? I need you to wake up. I need you so much, Cill.” He touched his lips to her cheek, then gently, gently brushed them over her lips. “Wake up, Cill.”
“Benny.” The word was raw and weak, her eyes dull and unfocused—but open. “Benny.”
Roarke rose, nodded at Eve. “I’ll have them page the doctor.”
“Hey, Cill.” Benny’s tears dripped onto her face. “Hey.”
“Benny. I had a terrible dream. Can you stay with me?”
“Right here.” He shoved down the bed guard, sat beside her. “Right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Eve backed out of the room, stepped aside as one of the nurses hurried in. She walked to Roarke. “We’ll give them some time. Peabody and I will come back tomorrow and get her statement.” She glanced back. “She’s in for a long, painful haul.”
“She’ll make it. They will.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Friendship to love—maybe it would work for them.
Then there was the other choice. Love to friendship, she thought as they took the elevator down. She supposed she and Roarke had taken that route.
It seemed to be working out just fine.