“No.”
As if he smelled something more behind my answer, he narrows his eyes at me. “Why?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I just don’t like medicine very much.”
“Why?”
This time, he leans forward, almost breaching my personal bubble, the way he likes to do so as frequently as possible. It’s slightly more intimidating though, especially paired with an intense look like right now.
I don’t give him more than a shrug. He’s not the kind of person I want to share my past with and the reality that my dad pumped me full of antidepressants after my mom died. At first, I thought he did it to help me, but I quickly realized it was for his own benefit because they made me loopy. Information Matteo could possibly use against me somehow later on?
A stifling minute of silence passes, and he releases a frustrated breath. Relief floods me when he backs off, and I watch him as he puts the chair back in its place and picks up the tray.
“Did Luna get everything you need, or is something missing?”
My gaze flickers to the bag on the bed. “Mmmm, I think I’m good, but I’ll check again to make sure. I got distracted by the book.”
“Just let me know what you need, and I’ll get it.”
“Okay.”
He spins around and walks toward the door.
“Matteo?”
He turns a fraction, enough for me to see his profile.
“Thank you for lunch.”
He nods and closes the door behind him.
Nothing’s easy with him.
I stare longingly at the book, but eventually, I get out of the chair, cursing the whole time.
Every single movement hurts, and it feels like the whole ordeal takes me about five minutes. At this point, just breathing is difficult, but a much-needed bathroom break is in order. Thankfully, I manage it by myself.
Standing seems to aggravate the wound the least, so on my way back to bed, I open the dresser drawers, as well as the closet door, ready to grab whatever Luna packed and put it away as fast as possible so I can go to sleep.
I swear, I’ve never been this tired before. And it keeps hitting me so suddenly too.
Once all the T-shirts and sweatpants are put away, I take the toiletry bags and put them on the bathroom counter. I can unpack those later, when I actually need them.
There are a few pairs of jeans and a couple of sweaters that will be perfect for the approaching fall temperatures. The underwear goes straight into a drawer.
The books at the bottom bring a huge grin to my face. It’s the rest of the paranormal series I started and totally fell in love with. How nice of Luna to pack all of this for me. She’s officially turned into my lifesaver, and I need to find a way to say thanks to her. Maybe I can ask Matteo if I can call her.
I pick up the small stack of books and put them on top of the dresser. I double-check the bag to make sure I didn’t forget anything, then throw it in the bottom of the closet.
The bed calls my name, and I half-crawl, half-slide into it until I lie flat on my back, panting a little. Normally, I hate sleeping on my back, but it seems to be the least painful position to be in at the moment.
It’s early evening the next time I wake up, and my wound is throbbing like a bitch. Looks like it might be time for another round of pain meds.
My gaze lands on the dresser that’s to one side and has my stack of books on it. Wait a second, there’s something black between the books. Is that a box? I must have been more tired than I realized to have missed it earlier.
Slowly—and I mean a-snail-could-give-me-a run-for-my-money slowly—I make my way out of bed and shuffle to the dresser. After taking the first two books off the pile, I stare at what is, indeed, a black box. It has a Post-it note stuck to the top that says,Open me.
I snort. Not conspicuous at all.