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“Morgan!” He frantically searched for blood, for signs she’d been hurt. “What happened? Did you fall? Are you—” She glanced up at him through dark lashes, and her agonized look punched an aching hole into the very center of his chest. “It h-hurts less if I b-break something,” she said, teeth chattering. The relief that washed over him was so strong he had to close his eyes for a moment to manage it. “You did this on purpose.” He opened his eyes to find her nodding into her knees, her dark hair fanned over her shoulders and back, dripping wet. “S-stupid d-door.” Steam curled up in feathered wisps from her shoulders, and as he reached in to turn off the faucet he was shocked to realize the water pouring over her was ice-cold. The steam came from her skin. She was burning up. “You need
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