"Laina, I am fine!" Tate sighs as I fluff his pillow for the umpteenth time today. I couldn't help but hover over my mate the way he did with me when I first woke from my emergency surgery.
"No, you're not, so stop complaining and let me pamper you," I argue back, hearing Tate mutter something about me being a worrywart. How the tides have turned. It's been three days since Tate first woke up from his coma. I spent most days either curled up in bed with Tate and Julia watching T.V. The only times I leave this room are to use the washroom and take Julia outside to get some fresh air.
When Tate is asleep, I find myself at the desk Loren and Mike brought in, going over pack paperwork with the two men and Eeva's help. Rex would come in every now and then to check on Tate's condition,
