Page 61 of Silver Linings
This bathroom is too small for the two of us, and I need to not think about how I can feel his body heat if I’m going to effectively fix his injuries.
I reach under the cabinet and pull out the medical supplies, setting out what I’ll need on the countertop. Stepping between his legs, I pull his hand back into mine, inspecting the cuts for any gravel or debris. I can feel his eyes on my face, watchingme, not what I’m doing. Relieved when I don’t find anything that needs to be extracted, I work to clean and disinfect the cuts, apply a thin layer of healing salve, and set his hand down before taking a step back.
“There. All good.”
He looks at me briefly before he stands. “Why don’t you hop in the shower, and I’ll make you some tea?”
I don’t know how to respond to this level of care, and I’m fairly certain I’m gaping like a fish, because he just smirks and leans around me to turn on the shower before he leaves me to it. There’s nothing else to do but comply, and, honestly, it was the right call. Nothing could feel better than the warm water beating down on my back, washing away the horrors of the evening.
Once I’m done, I step out and change into my coziest pajamas, towel dry my hair, and head into the kitchen, where Hendrix has just finished making me a chamomile tea and a sandwich.
God, he really doesn’t make this easy, does he?
I take them from him, scanning him head to toe to assure myself he’s alright.
“It just dawned on me that you don’t have any sleep clothes. I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay.”
He looks me squarely in the eyes. “I’m staying. It’s as much for your comfort as it is for me to have peace of mind.”
I gulp down another bite of sandwich. “Oh.”
The deep timbre of his chuckle makes my body flare with warmth.
I finish my food, feeling unsteady as my thoughts drift back to how a good night was tainted by one person’s actions. Then, I notice my broken necklace on the entry table by the door, and I lose it.
All composure has left as I start to cry quietly.
Hendrix wastes no time wrapping his arms around me, letting me bury my head in his chest as he holds me to him, stroking my spine in a soothing rhythm. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I swallow thickly as I look up at him, tears hanging off my lashes.
“My dad gave it to me before he died. He was going to steal it from me, and I panicked, and nothing else mattered.” A fat tear falls hot on my cheek as he reaches a hand up and brushes it away.
“You still have it. He’s with you.” I nod and drop my head back to his chest. “Let’s get you into bed.” He leads me into my bedroom, and it feels weirdly normal, natural, even. That’s almost as terrifying as the rest of the evening.
Setting my drink on the side table, he peels back my covers and motions for me to get inside. When he moves to leave, I panic, shooting my arm out to stop his retreat.
“Where are you going?”
“I was going to give you space, sleep on the couch.” He’s so goddamn chivalrous, and while the thought of his hulking frame squished onto my tiny pink couch makes me want to smile, I don’t want him to go.
“Please,” I plead, desperate and needy, “stay in here with me.”
Whatever he sees in my eyes is enough to convince him, because he just nods and makes his way to the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes and getting under the covers with me.
I turn off the bedside light so he won’t see the embarrassment tinting my cheeks beet red.
My bed is small, and Hendrix is a tall man, so this arrangement puts us in startlingly close proximity. I shift onto my side, facing him, to afford us more room. He stays on his back but turns his head to look over at me.
“You came back for me.” It’s something so innocuous to most, even he couldn’t possibly realize what something like that would do to me. The girl no one came back for.
“I’ll always come for you,” he states, so gentle and confident.
In the darkness of my bedroom, with only the moon peeking through the curtains to bear witness, I break my own rules as I lean over to his side of the bed and press my lips against his.
The kiss is warm and tender, and it slowly fixes a part of my broken soul I previously thought irreparable. He doesn’t take more than I give, and when I disconnect a few moments later, I don’t fully retreat back to my side of the bed before falling asleep.
seventeen
