Page 99 of Fake Out Hearts

“I’m fine, Theo, really,” Becca insists as I try to coax her into my bed back home the next day. “Come on, I’ve been sleeping for the last like eighteen hours, I don’t need more rest.”

“I didn’t say you had to sleep. But you do need to rest. I don’t want you falling again.”

Becca grumbles but lies down, pulling the covers over her head. I’m probably overdoing it with her because she does seem like she’s back to normal, but I would never forgive myself if she fainted again and got hurt. As long as she stays put in bed for now, that’s enough for me.

I close the bedroom door behind me on my way out, and Milo follows me back downstairs to the kitchen. The grocery delivery came this morning before I brought Becca home, so the surprise hasn’t been ruined.

I’m a terrible cook and open about it, but I think even I can handle chicken noodle soup, so I pull out all the ingredients, chop up the chicken and vegetables into chunks, and combine them with noodles and broth in a large pot on the stove to let it boil.

It’ll be a while before it’s ready, assuming I don’t burn it, but hopefully Becca will be nice and hungry by then. I’ll pop the chicken nuggets in the oven just before the soup is done. I don’t know what to do while I wait, so I head to the couch and turn the TV on with the volume muted. I don’t want to bother Becca while she’s trying to sleep.

I spend more time channel surfing than actually watching anything, but it’s enough time for the soup to come to a boil. I leave the TV on a commercial to bring the heat down to a simmer, then pop the chicken nuggets into the oven.

“Something smells good. What are you making?”

I turn around to find Becca standing at the bottom of the stairs, clearly ignoring my doctor’s orders to stay in bed. But I can’t even be upset about it, because the sight of her wearing my clothes as pajamas almost takes my breath away. They’re several sizes too big for her, making her dancer’s frame look even more petite and hiding the curves of her body.

Even with her face a bit wan and her hair mussed from sleep, she still looks absolutely beautiful to me.

I never want those clothes back.

Striding over to her, I pull her into my arms for a kiss. Her arms wrap around my shoulder as she kisses me back, arching against me a little. Then she wiggles out of my grasp to peer around me into the kitchen.

“Seriously, what are you up to?” she asks.

I lift one shoulder. “I talked to your mom last night, and she told me about some of your favorite foods from when you were a kid, so I decided to make some of them for you to help you feel better.”

Her brows furrow. “But you can’t cook.”

I bark out a laugh. She really does know me.

“Yeah, I know,” I admit with a chuckle. “But I’m trying, okay? I want to get better at it. For you. And I want to make sure there’s always stuff in the fridge for you. Things that you like and actually want to eat.”

Becca blushes. “I told you, I don’t really have a problem with the eating disorder anymore. That was a long time ago, I just got so caught up with the fallout from Shawn’s show that I forgot to take care of myself.”

“I believe you, princess. I really do.” I step closer to her, trailing my knuckles along the curve of her cheek. “But that’s whyIwant to take care of you. I hate that this shit with Shawn has you stressed out, and I hate even more that you ended up inthe hospital because of it. You scared the hell out of me. I don’t ever want that to happen again. So I’m going to make sure you always have something to eat and that you’re always taken care of. Okay?”

Becca stares into my eyes for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

“Good.”

I tilt her chin up and kiss her. She smiles at me as we break apart, although I can still see doubt lingering in her eyes.

Wanting to banish it entirely, I press another small kiss to her lips before murmuring, “I’m really glad you told me about your past. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t,” she admits, her voices low. “And I’m grateful you’re being so supportive about it, but this…” She gestures at all the groceries piled on the counter behind me. “It’s too much. You’re doing way too much for me.”

“No, it’s not enough,” I counter, and she stares at me. “It’s not anywhere near enough. I should’ve been there for you, but I wasn’t.”

Becca’s luminous eyes lock on mine. “But you’re here now.”

“I am. And I always will be.” Tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, but she wipes them away and smiles. I turn back to the stove and lift the lid off the pot, blasting myself with steam. “But I think you’re just in time because I’m pretty sure the soup should be ready, or at least getting close. Do you want to taste it?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know. Is it safe?”

“You’re lucky you just got home from the hospital, otherwise I’d never tolerate this slander.”

She laughs but approaches the stove anyway, so I scoop up a wooden spoonful of the soup and bring it to my mouth to blow on it. I think it smells delicious, but I’ll let her be the judge of that.

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