61
The door slides open and I think it’s the nurse, but Nate walks inside with a vanilla milkshake in hand.
He places it between my fingers. “You should go home and rest, but I assume you won’t move from his side now.”
I dig my nails into the cup. Why does he have to be so good at reading me but not know how painful his actions are?
He shouldn’t be this attuned to me if it means nothing.
He shouldn’t know things about me and bring me those things because they’re what keeps me at peace.
“The nurse said he opened his eyes and talked to you?” he asks.
I just take a slurp of my milkshake. Yes, the asshole bought it, but it’s not its fault and it should be consumed.
“Gwyneth.” There’s a warning in his tone because he’s a god, and gods don’t like being ignored.
They don’t like being defied.
Well, too bad for him because I’m in the mood for anarchy.
“Look at me.”
I don’t.
“Gwyneth, I said look at me.”
When I refuse again, he steps in front of me and grabs my chin with two fingers. They’re strong

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