Page 68 of The Jellybean Dilemma

I was thankful for that. Getting into the tub was one thing, but getting out? I wasn’t sure if I could manage on my own. Between the journey to the bathtub and the orgasms, I had no energy left. Not to mention trying to pull myself up with my still tender shoulder. It took some doing, and he ended up wet too, but finally I was out of the tub, on my own two feet.

“Ready for soup yet? And a nap? Muscle relaxer?”

I pondered my options while I dried off. “How about clothes and a change of scenery? Got any movies in this place?” I frowned. “Do we even have electricity? Like, are we on the power grid?”

He laughed. “No, it’s a generator. Definitely out in the sticks here. But yes, we have a TV, Blu-ray and movies. So, you get dressed, I’ll take your soup downstairs, and you holler when you want to come down. Your suitcase is in your room.” Greg turned to leave, then said over his shoulder, “Don’t you even think about coming downstairs without me.”

My lips tipped up, happiness spilling over at the thought of someone caring enough to scold me for being too independent.

Chapter Twenty

I let Greg carry me downstairs. I wasn’t ready for sleep, but I was ready to be a slug again. He set me down in front of his movie collection.

After perusing the two shelves, I wrinkled my nose. There wasn’t a rom-com in sight. He appeared just then with soup, along with a bowl of popcorn that smelled amazing. I hated to admit how tired I was getting of soup.

“Thought you might like a change of pace.”

I grinned. “You read my mind.”

Once the food was on the coffee table, he came back to the shelf of movies. “Find anything?”

“Nothing good.”

He clasped a hand to his chest like I’d wounded him. “How can you say that? Lord of the Rings is on this shelf.”

Crossing my arms, I sniffed. “Never seen it.”

His jaw dropped. “What? Never?” When I shook my head, he threw up his hands. “Well, I know what we’re watching. Good thing we’re snowed in with nowhere to go, Jellybean, ’cause you’ve got some making up to do.”

He helped me settle into the couch. It took a minute to find a comfortable position, and he found some extra pillows I could prop myself up with. After he’d put the movie in, he picked my legs up, sliding under them so my calves rested comfortably on his thighs. Then he handed me the bowl of popcorn which I put on my lap between us, and we started the epic tale of The Lord of the Rings.

Three hours later, the end credits rolled. Partway through, we had shifted positions, ending with Greg’s head on my lap and my feet on the coffee table in front of me. His steady breathing told me he’d fallen asleep at some point.

I sat there, content to think about the movie and marvel over Greg sleeping on me. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined being holed up in a rural cabin with him, so completely comfortable with each other that this was our evening. I studied the shape of his face, the long eyelashes that curved against his high cheekbones. His lips parted slightly, and he seemed so peaceful.

He’d taken such good care of me these past couple of days, but he’d been in the wreck, too. And I knew there was a lot to do here to keep the heat going, the generator filled, on top of taking care of me. A pang of guilt hit me, that I’d needed so much on my end for recovery. I wished I could’ve helped more.

The least I could do was let him sleep. Easing over, I managed to reach the remote where it lay in front of his stomach, then I shut off the TV. In the absence of the noise, I heard the wind howling again along with snow battering against the windows. He’d been right about the blizzard, too. I sighed, but there was nothing I could do, so I leaned my head back to rest, just for a few minutes.

The next thing I knew, Greg was tucking me in upstairs. My eyes flew open, meeting his in a flash of panic.

“Easy, Jellybean, I just thought you’d be more comfortable in your bed.” His voice was low and soothing as his hand stroked my hair. I relaxed again with his touch. “Want any medicine?”

I tried to assess my soreness through my groggy haze. “Yes, please.”

He had some ready, along with a granola bar. Then I drifted back to sleep. Sunshine, actual honest-to-goodness sunshine, streamed in my window the next morning. I hadn’t realized how rare that was until now. This was probably the second day since we’d been on this trip that I’d seen her golden rays on full display, not muffled behind a thick layer of clouds and snow. It felt glorious.

The sunniness carried over to my mood, because I felt amazing, too. The stiffness and pain were almost gone. I only had a few twinges when I stretched, dressed and made my way downstairs, smiling as I went. I’d been so out of it, I hadn’t really noticed the details of the cabin, its white pine log walls, the wood trimmed panes of glass, the sleek hardwood floor beneath my feet. Cozy, but sleek, and perfect for Greg.

The stairs were wide slabs of wood, each swirled with age rings and knots but sanded to a smooth finish. They were beautiful. At the bottom was a landing, then three more stairs perpendicular to the others. The artwork hanging on the wall of the landing caught my attention.

It was mine. I stopped in my tracks, startled to find it here. I must not have seen it yesterday, either too busy looking at Greg, or I’d missed it because of the angle he’d carried me. It was a large, ugly thing I’d done not long after graduating high school. Yolanda had been crushing on a local artist who taught a four-week class.

I’d worked really hard on it, though. Just staring at it brought back the smell of the thick oil paint, the rubber cement I’d used to glue on the strips of news headlines and the bottle caps. I’d made a limo out of various bits of mixed media, a limo because Greg was my constant, the one I’d always been able to count on.

My painting had been featured in a local art show, with an honorable mention for its use of mixed media. I had been so proud, sitting on my stool and waiting for my family to arrive. Every time a person had walked in, my hopes bubbled up, then obliterated when I didn’t know them. I watched jealously at Yolanda’s steady stream of people coming in to support her.

While I had no one.

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