His Concern

[Denali’s POV]

I stand in the doorway of Rosco’s room, unable to move. My eyes stay locked on the man who lays in bed motionless, with bandages covering his body and an IV attached to his skin that replenishes the blood that he has lost.

Laying there like that, he looks so fragile, and it damn near kills me.

No. I think inwardly, collecting myself. You can’t break down, not here, not now.

Sucking in a few calming breaths, I begin to move, making my way into the room and then taking a seat beside my man. Once I’m comfortable, I reach out and grab his hand.

For a moment, I don’t speak, as I just stare into his face, taking in his much too pale complexion and the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes.

“Hey,” I whisper, bringing his hand to my lips and kissing it. “Don’t worry about things here.” I continue. “I’ve got them under control, so please just worry about getting better.”

Growing quiet, I wait as if Rosco would respond to my words, though I know that he won’t.

How was it