"You saved me, didn't you?" August asked him weakly, soft morning light illuminating her pale hair like a halo.
She was tucked underneath that healing quilt Greta had draped over her the previous night once they finally got her fever to come down. Graeme believed it was the ice bath and medication his sister gave her that finally did the trick, but Greta insisted that it was simply him—his healing touch, his mysterious connection with her. He scoffed at the time and rolled his eyes. How was that possible? It wasn't.
But now she was awake. And she was… beautiful. He had to remember to breathe and not stare.
