Chapter 803

　　Tabitha's fingers paused as she recalled how Derek had once barely flinched from a gunshot wound, yet now he acted as fragile as a glass doll, each breath cautious and restrained. 　　"For the next two days, try to keep this wound dry," she said softly, tearing off a piece of medical tape. "Let me help you back to bed." 　　Derek abruptly pushed her hand away and sat up, leaning against the bedside table. 　　The mattress creaked beneath him, and his heartbeat thundered—not from weakness, but from the faint lavender scent clinging to her, identical to the pillow fragrance he remembered. 　　Tabitha caught his taut wrist. 　　"Derek Moriarty," she warned, using his full name—a name that sent a jolt through him, almost slipping out with "I knew it was you," but catching himself with a sigh. 　　"Sorry," he muttered. 　　Steam from the chicken soup blurred the air between them. 　　Tabitha blew on the spoonful of soup before offering it to him. Her silver bracelet slid down to her forearm—the very one