A COOL WASHCLOTH TO my face woke me up. I jerked back in surprise and then again when I realized the one tending to me was Trenton and not Sage.
I glanced around wildly.
“She’s sleeping,” he said quietly.
He seemed calm, almost too calm, and reserved.
Was he bipolar? How could he be so composed right now? I sure felt like a mess myself. But the cool washcloth did feel nice against me, so I kept my questions to myself, not wanting to risk setting him off again.
He pulled the washcloth away. “The swelling’s gone down. You...I...” Trenton sat on the edge of the bed, head down.
“Thank you.”
He snorted. “Thank you,” he repeated glumly. “I don’t even know what the f**k I’m doing.”
I gaped at him. Did he really think I was going to be his shrink? Or that I would forgive him for the s**t h
