Rory’s POV
Oh God! I’m dying, I must be! No one can feel this bad and not be dying, it’s not possible.
I grapple blindly for my cell, my hand slamming pathetically against the bedside table, touching a packet of what feels like tablets, a glass before finally falling on the rectangular shape of my phone.
Wrapping my fingers around it, I tug it down to where I can see it, forcing my eyes open, and squinting at the screen, trying to make out what the blurry mess in the top corner that should be the time, means.
‘It’s eight am’ a gravelly voice murmurs from the doorway, and I shoot up in bed, eyes open fully as the world spins around me for a second before slowing to a stop and I make out the broad frame of Marcus Langway leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and, dear Lord, he’s sh
