Page 65 of The Jellybean Dilemma

“I should hope not.” His gaze followed the red and purple stripe, his throat bobbing. “This might hurt the most because of the bruising, but I swear it’ll help.”

With a bracing breath, I removed my hand from his. “It’s okay, Greg. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.” And I grit my teeth as his fingers began covering my bruise with the salve.

Finally, the torture was over, and he put the cap on the ointment, wiping his hands on a towel he’d brought. “I have soup or oatmeal plus the food we packed. You should eat so you can take an anti-inflammatory.”

It made sense. “Soup, please.”

“Okay.” He brushed a kiss against my forehead and covered me up. “Back in a few.” He flinched as he straightened, so fast, I barely caught it.

“Wait.”

He paused.

“If you sit here”—I patted my left side with my good hand—“I can get your back, the parts you can’t reach. With the ointment.”

A crease furrowed his brow.

“I’m sure you’re hurting too, Greg. Let me do this. Let me help.” I knew it wasn’t much, but I wanted to do something for him. He always looked after me.

He nodded, stripping off his shirt as he walked around to the other side of the bed. His torso had a diagonal line of bruises from his neck to his ribs, but they were much spottier than mine. And not nearly as dark. He slid back on the bed until he was within reach.

“Where does it hurt?” There weren’t any bruises on his back, but I’d bet his shoulders were stiff from trying to steer the car.

“Both shoulder blades.”

Thankfully I had full mobility of my left arm, and I could reach his broad back. He hissed as the cool cream touched his skin. I took my time rubbing it in, making sure I covered the full area. “Anywhere else?”

“My neck.”

I frowned. “You’re too tall!”

He chuckled, moving to lie on his side, still facing away from me. “Better?”

I spread the cream over his tense neck, grinning when he groaned under my touch. “I should be asking you that.”

Rolling over, he stared at me with an intense gaze. “I am. Thank you.” A wave of emotion passed between us, heady and strong. He blinked then scooted off the bed, his movements more fluid than before. “I’ll be back with that soup.”

I stared at the ceiling until he returned, wondering what would happen next between us. I couldn’t handle much more of this roller coaster, and I hoped things calmed down. He helped me sit up enough to get half a can of soup in me, then I swallowed some Motrin.

“You should take some too.”

“I will. After I finish off your soup.” He pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket after a moment’s hesitation. “My back acts up once in a while after that fall I took. Muscle relaxers got me through, and I always make sure I have some on hand, especially when visiting up here.” He glanced at me. “You ever had Flexeril?”

“Once.”

He nodded. “Good. No bad reaction?”

“No,” I said, wanting to shake my head, but refraining at the last second. “Other than sleeping a lot.”

His lips tipped into a soft, gentle smile. “That’s the best thing for you right now. Want one?”

I couldn’t argue. “Just half.” Normally I wouldn’t share someone’s meds, but this was a unique situation, and we weren’t anywhere near a doctor to get some of my own. I could only guess the status of the car. And from what I knew of cabins in the Upper Peninsula, I doubted there were any neighbors to call on for help.

Before I could analyze the situation much more, I drifted into a deep sleep.

Time passed in a foggy dream. I knew Greg woke me up for medication, I knew I got up to use the bathroom, and I knew I ate. But I had no idea how much time passed between each incident or what day it was. Everything just blurred together.

Finally, I woke up on my own, mostly clear-headed. I lay there, marveling that I could turn my head without wanting to scream when I heard footsteps in the hall.

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