Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Forty-Seven

“What are you doing?” she asked Thrane.

He had left the room about any hour ago, with a quipped good bye, and then had come back. Now he was sitting at his normal place, his back against the cold, white stone of the wall. Mussed head bent, Thrane looked to be completely captivated by the tenth edition of Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary.

That same head came up, showing eyes tired and red-rimmed from having stayed up all night with her as Titus had slept. He had joked with her as he'd lowered the temperature of the room for the fifth time yesterday. It had been an attempt to cool her body that was still burning because of the magnesium compound, but it hadn't worked. She had been cranky as hell, but he had stayed with her and Titus all the same.

Anna looked at him, wondering why Titus couldn't stand the man who helped in his own way. Black hair ruffled and brows furrowed almost all the time, Thrane didn't possess that welcoming, hey-come-talk-to-me appeal, but that was only to the people he didn't trust. Despite the fact that he could be an ornery, despising man at times, he was just a kid in some ways. Just a kid who was reaching out to her because only a handful of people – sometimes not even members of his family – ever gave him a chance.

What was usually a scowl that had been on his face early yesterday morning, when he, his father, and mother had all arrived in the room, was a smile was upon his face, showing a dimple in his left cheek pressed deep into the skin. His teeth shone bright – crooked but inviting. And so much like his brother, yet still so different.

“Well,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “I just thought you wouldn't wanna hear the same old stuff people always say.”

She smiled, despite the burn of magnesium sulfate running through her veins. The compound had been in her for a little less than forty hours now, having side effects that didn't in fact make her crummy – like Dr. Cliveston had told her. But rather making her feel as if she were on her death bed.

She wasn't allowed to eat anything anymore, for the magnesium sulfate practically shut down her digestive system. She had to pee with the help of a catheter. She could sometimes barely move, for the drug made her feel drowsy and dizzy, as if she were burning up alive. It had gotten worse last night, when a nurse had come in, for what had been at least the tenth time, to draw another blood sample and test out her reflexes.

Leaning into Titus's shoulder, she heard the rough beating of his heart that was the complete opposite of the fast pace he had been at all yesterday. The poor man had only left her side whenever he had to get up to use the bathroom or brush his teeth. The only thing he had actually done was change his clothes and rinse his face with water.

He was still snoring right next to her. After having not slept at all that first night, Titus looked to be catching up on the missed hours. He had fallen asleep at roughly five in the afternoon yesterday and had somehow managed to stay in that blessed place called sleep – the very same restoring place she hadn't been to since the scent of french fries had awoken her – until now. Now was six o'clock in the morning. On the day in which Ella Kaylin Cantrell would be born into the world.

“And what have you got so far?” she quietly asked, wanting Titus to get as much rest as possible.

“There's a lot of good ones.” Thrane turned the page. “You wanna hear some?”

“Sure.”

He smiled. “These two are my favorite: 'assault' and 'attack'. Are those not like the most encouraging words? I'd be there all like-”

“Those are nouns, you idiot,” Titus grumbled from beside her, his voice gritty with sleep.

“They'd still sound cool,” the younger Cantrell muttered.