Page 120 of The Apple Tree

With his good shoulder leaned against the doorframe, the corner of his mouth twitched. “Where did you go earlier?”

“To work.” I stepped closer.

“Is that it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just kiss me,” I whispered.

He gazed down at me with what I’d come to recognize as love in his eyes. “I need a shower.”

“You mean a sponge bath since you can’t get your incision wet.”

“Yes. I need help bathing. And it’s a little degrading.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not when I’m looking at you.”

I slowly shook my head. “That’s code for you’re hiding your pain from me. Let’s go.” We shut off the lights on the main level, and I locked the doors. Then we headed upstairs.

I ran water in the bathtub and helped him out of his clothes. The water hit just above his waist when he eased into the tub. I grabbed his soap bar and started washing what I could without getting his injured arm wet.

“Ignore my erection,” he said.

I grinned, kissing his ear. “I can’t ignore it, but I won’t acknowledge it if it makes you feel better.”

We stared at each other while I washed him. It wasn’t sexual, despite said erection. But it was intimate. Sometimes, he let his eyes drift shut like my touch took away some of his pain, especially when I guided his head back and washed his hair, massaging his scalp.

Our flirty glances continued as I helped him out of the tub and dried him off.

“I could get used to this,” he said as I pulled his boxer shorts up his legs.

“Says the guy who kicked his family out because he wanted to do everything himself.” I hung up his towel and then squirted toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

He took the toothbrush from me. “Did it ever occur to you that I kicked them out so you could bathe me?”

I rolled my eyes.

After he finished brushing his teeth, he eased into bed. I stole one of his T-shirts and returned to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I opened the door, and he eyed me in his shirt as I made my way to the other side of the bed, reaching for the lamp to turn it off.

“Wait,” he said, eyeing me. “Let me look at you in my shirt.”

I glanced down. It was just a gray T-shirt with a Nike swoosh.

“I’m scared,” he said.

My gaze shot up to his.

Tiny lines formed along his forehead. “My life felt perfect.” His gaze affixed to the shirt, but it looked like he was seeing something that wasn’t in the room or the present. “Maybe not perfect by other people’s standards, but it felt perfect to me. I was in love. We were having a baby. House. Jobs. 401(k). It all seemed logical. The dream was there. We just had to take it. But she didn’t want it.” His brow tensed more, eyes narrowed. “How do you carry a life inside of you for nine months, push it out of your body, hold him in your arms, and then just walk away?”

Kyle looked at me. “How did I fall in love with someone who would do that?”

I swallowed, but there was no right response. I feltonlyeighteen under the weight of his question.

“When Josh was born, my heart exploded. It was like everything I had done up until that point was frivolous and inconsequential. When they let me hold him, I didn’t want to let him go. He’s just …” Kyle’s eyes reddened. “He’s the best part of every day. Everything in my life is better because of him.Iam better because of him.”

I used his shirt sleeve to wipe my eyes and snotty nose.

“So I’m scared, Eve. I’m scared because I don’t trust my heart. And that little boy trusts everyone.”

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