How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 784

Of course Elodie could tell Jarrod was doing this on purpose.

He’d just disrupted her meeting, too—clearly out of spite.

With no other choice, she rose to her feet and strode over to the bed, ignoring Jarrod’s antics entirely. Leaning over, she pulled back the collar of his shirt to check his wound.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. At this stage, he didn’t need his dressing changed so often anymore—just some scar cream from here on out.

“Aren’t you the one who wanted a shower?” Her expression didn’t even flicker; she showed no trace of embarrassment.

Jarrod narrowed his eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You really think I want a shower right now?”

“Weren’t you the one who asked?”

He ran his tongue along his teeth, still lounging back against the pillow as if he owned the place. “You really think I’m that much of a brute? I’d make you, fresh out of the hospital, help me shower? I just wanted to remind you to take it easy. You’re barely recovered, Elodie. Don’t run yourself ragged with work.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, Elodie couldn’t help but accept that he meant it, at least in part.

She glanced at the clock, then tipped her chin at Jarrod. “Well, if you’re done, maybe you should get some rest back in your own room.”

Jarrod put his book aside and lay back, making himself comfortable. “I know you mean well, but there’s no need. I’ll just rough it here with you.”

…Honestly, the nerve.

Elodie looked at him—clearly, he wasn’t going anywhere. She knew full well that wherever she settled tonight, he’d just follow.

She’d never realized how stubborn he could be.

Truth be told, she was already exhausted. But now, with him here, there was a strange, awkward tension in the air.

She was still lost in thought when, suddenly, Jarrod grabbed her wrist with a quick, deft movement.

She tumbled right onto the bed.

She tried to twist away, desperate not to land on his injured side, but she wasn’t fast enough. She ended up putting some weight on his shoulder.

“Jarrod! Are you even a little aware that you’re the patient here?” she snapped, pushing herself up with both hands.

Jarrod winced—she’d caught his injured back, and his lips thinned in pain, a quiet hiss escaping him. But he recovered quickly, wrapping an arm around Elodie’s waist and pulling her firmly against his chest. He looked down, meeting her glare with a lazy, infuriating calm.

“Feisty tonight, aren’t you, Ms. Thorne?”

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