Page 62 of Princess

For some reason, that triggers my sense of humor. I gasp out a broken laugh.

“Was that funny?” he asks with a smile in his voice.

“Yes. For some reason, it was.” I’m finally able to pick my head up and gaze down into his face.

“Come closer,” he says thickly. “I want to give you a kiss.”

I readjust so our mouths are aligned, and he lifts his head to kiss me. It’s gentle. Tender. It seems to put my heart back together.

I’m pretty sure he’d keep going, but I’m not about to risk any sexy times. I’m not going to be responsible for holding back the healing of his leg even a little. So I pull away and snuggle more comfortably at his side. He keeps one arm around me but holds me more loosely.

And it’s not long before I actually fall asleep.

I don’t know how long I doze, but I don’t wake up until I hear Mack’s voice in the room.

“Hey,” he’s saying as I’m trying to get my eyes open. “Just checking to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” That’s Grant. I feel his soft voice rumble slightly through his body. “But she’s sleeping. Don’t wake her up.”

“I’m awake,” I announce rather groggily. I still can’t seem to open my eyes.

Mack laughs. “You look very awake to me. Sorry to interrupt.”

I’ve finally managed to pry open my eyes. I don’t bother trying to sit up. “I’m glad you stopped by. You’re not taking off right away, are you?”

“No. The New Haven folks will be leaving in an hour or so, but I think I’ll stick around for a day or two if y’all don’t mind. I’ve got nothing pressing, and that swimming pool and theater are too tempting.”

“Please stay as long as you want,” I tell him. “You can live here if you’d like.”

“I travel around most of the time, but I’ll definitely stop by when I can.” He’s already heading back toward the door of the room. “I’ll leave you alone now since you’ve clearly got something going on.”

I start to object, but Grant says, “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mack turns to scan us together in the bed for a few seconds before he leaves. I hear him saying, maybe to us and maybe to himself, “Next time, I gotta work on getting shot. That must be the way to get the girl.”

11

A week later,I carry a bowl of stew down to Grant’s room because he’s still not supposed to be walking.

Overall, it’s been a good week. We’ve been putting the camp back together after the Wolf Pack attack and fixing up our garden there since it saw a lot of damage. Fortunately, we’ve been keeping all our chickens down in the bunker until we could build a proper coop for them outside, so they weren’t all killed or injured during the assault. The area feels safe again, and the mood in our camp is better than ever.

I should be happy. More secure. And I would be if I weren’t so distracted by my relationship with Grant.

The doctor said that in another week Grant can start limping around, but for now he’s confined to his apartment. To my surprise, he hasn’t complained. He hasn’t tried to ignore the doctor’s instructions. He hasn’t grumbled about the forced inactivity.

And he hasn’t made a single move on me.

On the afternoon he got shot, I felt close to him. Closer than I ever have before. I convinced myself he felt the same way and that it would continue. But he’s been acting different for days now. He’s quiet. Always polite. Almost gentle with me.

It’s confusing. And unsettling. I have no idea what it means, but it doesn’t feel like it’s reallyhim.

I keep telling myself to be patient. He’s a reserved man by nature, and he’s spent years burdened with responsibility for getting us through an endless crisis. To do that, he closed himself off to feelings and vulnerability. Expecting him to change overnight—even if he wants to—would be unreasonable. Immature.

But still…

I’m not expecting a proposal or an earnest declaration of his heart, but he could at least touch me occasionally. Like he used to.

It’s not been helping my mood.

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