The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 88

She didn’t even remember that she’d already asked him that question when she was drunk.

“So, did you hope it was me?” Petty barely registered the cold touch at the back of her head, maybe a dead branch or something, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She shook her head, the world spinning around her.

Hope? Was that what this was?

Her head rested against Franco’s leg. She couldn’t even hold herself up anymore. Her voice came out as a soft, broken laugh, so quiet it was almost swallowed by the night.

“I never… dared to hope for that.”

Her breath was warm against his thigh. Franco’s hand froze in midair, then he moved quickly, catching her head as her body sagged, limp and heavy.

The second he touched her, heat radiated from her skin. She was burning up.

“Petty!” His voice was sharp now, urgent.

He slid his hand to her shoulder and pulled her into his arms, sinking into the snow with her against his chest.

She hardly seemed awake, just slumped against him, all her weight pressed into his body.

He fumbled for her hand, and the moment he found it, he flinched. Her fingers were ice cold.

Her fever was only getting worse.

“Petty!” He cupped the back of her head, tapping her cheek, trying to coax her back.

All she managed was a weak, miserable sound, barely more than a whimper.

Franco gripped her hand tighter, his jaw set. He shoved her hand under his shirt, holding it against his warm skin, but her palm stayed cold, so cold it seemed nothing could chase the chill away.

He yanked off his cashmere sweater, wrapped it tight around her coat, then wound the soft fabric around her neck.

There was a faint metallic tang to the sweater, the scent of blood, but Petty didn’t notice, lost in her fevered haze.

Now just in his shirt, Franco leaned in close, his nose brushing her cheek, breathing warm air onto her face.

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