Page 75 of You and Me, For Real
“It won’t happen again, but I appreciate you taking care of me.” The words feel foreign on my tongue.
I’ve been on my own for the last five years—and even before that, my mom certainly never played nursemaid. I’m afraid that this will only make me feel more attached to Griffin. Which is a mistake. Aside from the fact that he doesn’t want me, he has a girlfriend. A very perfect and nice girlfriend.
Griffin comes around my side of the bed. “How’s your ankle today?”
“It’s good. I think it’ll be fine. I’ll get an ACE bandage wrap and be good as new. No more carrying necessary.” I make the mistake of looking at him.
His lopsided smile, along with his messy bedhead, makes my heart flop.
“I don’t mind. You’re as light as a feather.”
“Yeah. Right. Keep telling yourself that.” Laughter. Banter. Friendship. Keep things light. Casual.
“You wound me by underestimating my strength.” As if to emphasize it, he brushes his fingers through his tousled hair, his bicep flexing.
My eyes linger a bit too long, and his laugh makes my eyes fly to his.
His playful smile tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. He glances toward my ankle. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Sure.”
His fingertips caress my ankle with such tenderness that it sends tingles down my spine. I may have been hesitant to work with him, but in this moment? I’m incredibly grateful for all he’s done for me: giving me a training job with insane pay, taking in the dogs, and now, caring for me. And here I am, Suzy Home-Wrecker crashing in, begging him to sleep in my bed.
I absolutely cannot let these warm, fuzzy feelings grow.
“The swelling looks pretty good. Can you rotate it?”
I slowly rotate my ankle. It’s tender but not unbearable.
He gently caresses around the swollen joint. “Good. Want to try putting some weight on it?”
His touch causes words to stick in my throat. I nod instead.
He shifts from his crouched position and stands. His bright blue eyes remain steady on me. His rumpled state makes him impossibly more attractive. He holds out his hands.
I scoot closer to the edge of the bed, my head level with his stomach.
“Go slow, okay? Take it easy. Use me for support if you need it.”
“Okay.” I avoid his all-too-kind eyes, afraid he’ll see straight to my heart, and focus on the carpeted floor.
He clasps my hands, pulling me to my feet. I stand and put all my weight on my left foot before testing my right.
He dips his chin, forcing eye contact, trying to read my pain response. “You good?”
I bob my head, place my right toe on the floor, and release one of his hands. Blood fills my ankle, and pain radiates. I hiss through clenched teeth. I let go of his other hand, still placing most of my weight on my left foot, standing with my right on my tiptoe. I hobble a couple of steps before I wobble sideways into the bed.
Griffin rushes to my side and grips my forearm, coming around to face me, and latches on to my other forearm. He bends his knees and peers into my eyes. “Hey, keep it slow. No hurry. Take your time.”
I straighten my posture and attempt a couple more steps. Despite my resistance, tears sting my eyes. It’s not just the pain. It’s him. He’stoonice. This can’t be real. I have the sudden urge to push him away.
I don’t trust him. I don’t trust myselfwithhim.
His voice is soft and gentle, like he’s calming a spooked dog. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. There’s no rush. Let’s sit down.”
He eases me into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and squats in front of me.
I cover my face with my hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
