Djinn and Tonic Read Online Free PDF Page A

blanket.
    I find myself wishing that his hands would busy themselves with me.  
    “How are you feeling?” I ask him. “Are you hurt badly? How long will you be here?”
    He shrugs, lifting the gown up to show more of his bruised abdominal muscles. He has cuts on his face and a square of gauze is taped on his forehead. “Eh, I’m fine. Some bruised ribs and a concussion. I’ve been hurt worse playing football, honestly, but I’m a cop so I can’t just leave. I’ll be here for another day or so to make sure my ribs are healing and so they can keep an eye on the concussion.”  
    “I saw that wince when you shrugged,” I say. “So let me ask you again. How are you really, Carson?” I lean forward, and my hands are on the edge of the bed, inches from his own.  
    He glances down at my hands, takes a quick look and then glances away. He’s aware of our proximity, which means he wants me to touch him, I think. I try to hold my hands still, but one of them finds itself brushing against his knuckles, nudging his fingers aside so my hand is beneath his. He wraps his hand around mine, a reflexive motion.  
    I like how this feels.
    Why am I holding his hand? I shouldn’t be doing this, but…I can’t seem to summon the will power necessary to make myself let go.  
    Carson is searching my face, and he answers my question after a moment, “Okay. Well, honestly, it hurts. It’s mainly my ribs. But, honestly, it’s not bad. I’m fine. I’m more confused than anything. I’m not even really sure what happened or how I got here.” He’s rubbing one of my knuckles with his thumb, soft, gentle circles. “I remember being in the bar with you, being a little drunk—”
    “A little drunk?” I laugh, teasing him. “You were wasted .”
    He rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t that drunk. Certainly not blackout drunk, but…” He shakes his head slowly. “I remember sitting at the bar with you, and I kissed you, and then things just went black. I don’t remember falling over, and I don’t think I was so wasted I’d have fallen off a damn chair. But how else could I have blacked out? I had five or six drinks, at the most. That’s not anywhere near enough to make me black out. But after I kissed you, everything is just a blank. I don’t know how I got here, and I really don’t know what happened to my ribs.”
    “I think I kissed you ,” I say, by way of nudging the conversation away from certain unexplainable events.
    Unexplainable to a human, at least.  
    My free hand is fidgeting with the hem of his gown sleeve, tracing the line of his muscles between bicep and tricep. “I remember that pretty clearly, since I was sober. I definitely kissed you.” Talking about the kiss is dangerous, because I want to kiss him again, and I shouldn’t, I can’t, he’s already been hurt enough simply for being seen with me once, but talking about the kiss is the best tactic I can come up with for distracting him from asking questions I can’t answer.  
    And goodness knows Carson has enough unanswered questions in his life.  
    “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m pretty sure I kissed you first. You were sort of leaning in a little bit, but I made the move first.”  
    I shake my head, insisting, “No, you were the one leaning in, but I for sure kissed you first.” I’m so close to kissing him again, and I know I shouldn’t.  
    But I don’t think I can lie to him. Not convincingly, at least. He’d know.  
    “You must have been more drunk than you realized,” he says, laughing. “Because you’re remembering wrong. I may have had a fair bit to drink, but my memory of that much, at least, is clear as a bell.”  
    We’ve both leaned forward in imperceptible increments, until we’re within kissing distance.
    “I wasn’t drunk,” I say, letting my hand drift up from his arm to his shoulder. “I’d had like three sips from my drink, which I had just poured after my shift was over. I wasn’t even buzzed. We