She shot straight up in the chair she’d fallen asleep in, the one she kept near her bed as more of a clean-clothes holder than a place to sit. Her journal fell out of her lap and hit the floor.

It was still dark.

Reaching out with surprising strength, Cam grabbed her hand. “Why are you sleeping in the chair?”

“I wanted to stay close in case you needed me.” It’d clearly been a bad migraine, really bad, and she hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. She’d done some research and had been making a list in her journal of things she could do to ease his pain. Standing up, she brushed her free hand over his forehead, relieved to find him mildly warm now, not cold and clammy as he’d been. “Is the pain gone?”

“Mostly.” He paused. “Not used to being babied.”

She snorted. “I’m not babying you.”

“You did. All night. And don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. But something’s wrong. You’re treating me with kid gloves.”

She hesitated, because he was right. She’d treated him with kid gloves ever since the service yesterday.

With a speed and force she hadn’t thought possible, he tugged her onto the bed, rolled, and had her beneath him, framing her face with his forearms, his fingers in her hair. “Why?” he repeated.

“Not kid gloves,” she said. “Not exactly.”

“Then what?” He frowned. “Is it because of what happened between us?”

She blinked. “Are you referring to the thing we keep . . . accidentally doing on your boat?”

His eyes darkened and heated. “I’ll never drive that thing again without fantasizing about what’s happened there. I might turn it into a shrine.”

Lava coursed through her limbs and she had to shake it off. “That’s not why I . . . treated you different.”

“Then why?”

How to explain? She fiddled with the blanket until he put his hand over hers. “Talk to me, Piper.”

“I’ve been complaining about my siblings since we met,” she said. “And then yesterday, I heard your heart-wrenching story about the accident with Rowan.” It’d wrecked her.

He shook his head. “I fucked up with Rowan. I didn’t, and don’t, deserve your sympathy.”

“You’re wrong. And all I want to do is help ease your pain. Are you telling me you wouldn’t feel the same if our situations were reversed?”

He stared at her, his eyes much clearer than they’d been even a minute ago. At his continued silence, she gave him a small “told you” smile.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’d do anything to take away your pain.”

At his incredibly serious and intense tone, she sucked in a breath while he stared at her some more.

“I need you,” he said softly.

She rocked a little against the undeniable proof. “Need? Or want?”

“Both. Am I alone on this edge with you?”