Page 43 of Jessica's Hero
A rare flare of nerves hits my belly. But I’m not backing down. Not unless Jess wants me to. “You’re my girlfriend, Jess. Or at least, I hope you are. And I want youto stay with me. I want to make sure you’re okay. But if you’d rather go to a hotel, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
New voices enter the house, crisp and authoritative. Ben and Willow, from the sound of it.
Jess glances at the bedroom door. Then she looks back at me. “I’d like to… But are you sure you don’t mind?”
Mind having Jess with me? Mind taking care of her? Mind knowing she’ll be safe?
There’s absolutely no question.
“I don’t mind,” I tell her firmly. Cupping her cheek in my hand, I stroke my thumb across her satiny skin. “I want you there, Jess. If you want to be.”
Several seconds pass without an answer. Seconds that feel like hours as I imagine her telling me no, that she’s not ready. That she’d rather stay at a hotel—which I’ll accept, but won’t be pleased about—than stay with me.
But then.
She gives me a watery smile. “Yes. I’d really like to stay with you.”
Oh.
Is it wrong to feel happy when everything is such a mess?
“Good,” I reply. I press a soft kiss to her lips. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”
Jess sags against me and rests her head on my shoulder. “Okay, Kane.”
I know she doesn’t believe me yet. But I’ll prove it.
And I’mnotletting her get hurt again.
CHAPTER 9
JESS
“I said I’d bring breakfast to you, Jess.”
Startling at the sudden sound of Kane’s voice, the coffee mug jumps in my hand, sloshing steaming coffee over it. I grimace at the sting of pain, but quickly try to school my expression as I turn away from the counter to face him.
Apparently, I didn’t do a very good job, because Kane’s face immediately creases with concern. “Jess!” He rushes across the kitchen. “Shit. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m okay.” I set the mug down and take a few tentative steps towards the sink; my injured feet protesting with each movement. “It’s no big?—”
But my thoughts fracture into a chaos of sensation as Kane scoops me into his arms, cradling me against his very broad and firm chest. “Your feet are hurt,” he tells me sternly. “You shouldn’t be walking around on them yet.”
Lifting me higher, he carries me the rest of the way to the sink and deposits me on the counter. Then he turns on the cold water and holds my still-stinging hand under it. As the water chases away the pain, he bends his head to inspect my reddened skin, peering at it with the intensity of a surgeon.
With his head bowed close to mine, I can see the glints of bronze and copper threaded through his hair, accentuated by the morning sun streaming through the window. The light catches the strong angles of Kane’s features, casting his face with a golden glow.
After ten seconds or so, he removes my hand from the water and lightly brushes his thumb across the back of it. “I think it’ll be okay,” he finally proclaims after another inspection. “But it couldn’t hurt to put some ice on it. Just to be safe.”
I’m torn between insisting I’m okay—which I am, the pain is mostly gone—or allowing Kane to keep taking care of me. I love this feeling of being cared for; something I’ve desperately missed ever since my mom got sick and our roles were reversed. But I’m also afraid of getting too used to it.
Yes, Kane has been wonderful since he brought me back to his house last night. Carrying me everywhere, getting me all set in the guest room with everything I could possibly need, and checking on me at regular intervals all through the night, adorably peeking his head into the room while he thought I was sleeping and once, even coming over to the bed and gently tucking the covers around me.
But it’s only temporary. That’s what I need to keepreminding myself of. Kane invited me here because it was a quick solution, rather than trying to find a hotel room well after midnight. In someplace like New York City, it would be easy, but in our little town? Not so much.
So I’m thankful he invited me here. And I believed him when he said he wanted me to stay. But soon enough—once Kane’s friend, Grant, gets my windows fixed—I’ll be back home, alone and dealing with things on my own again.
It would be smarter not to get used to this. I know it. Because despite what Kane said about being his girlfriend, which I’m still not convinced he meant, dating is a far cry from living together. Especially when we haven’t been together that long.
