Page 57 of Anything for You
And even in the midst of all of the drama, I was very close to giving him my heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Dorian
Ihadn’t seen Dove in two days.
I tried not to pout about it, but I definitely was. Mostly, it was her work schedule, although she’d come home earlier than usual last night but I’d been the one out late. I’d taken a low-key job for Saint—one I’d eyed on the schedule as something I could do without too much anxiety surrounding it.
Kenny, Luc, and Jude knew I was struggling with assignments still, but as far as I knew, everyone else thought I’d overcome all my issues and worked part-time because that was the way I wanted it. And in some ways, it was.
I didn’t want to be uninvolved. I didn’t want to lose my family at Saint. And there was a real fear that if I let this… itch to step back even further take over, I’d do just that.
A small voice suggested I interrogate that premise. At some point, I’d have to bring it up with Dr. Corrigan andwe’d likely look at it from every angle. It’d be painful. It’d probably help.
But sometimes, therapy was like that—painful and helpful. And sometimes, knowing this made it hard to want to do, even knowing the helpful part would ultimately and possibly dramatically improve one’s life.
Was I in danger of focusing all my attention and energy on the farm and this new thing with Dove and ignoring those niggling little problems I should be addressing? Yes.
I didn’t want to think about that right now, though. I wanted to think about how I hadn’t really texted Dove much. I had her number, but we’d not breached the chatting wall, likely because when she was at work, she didn’t stay tuned into her phone, and if she wasn’t at work, usually she was here. Otherwise, she visited her nan and saw her friends, and she’d mentioned she hated to be glued to her phone in those instances.
I appreciated this, so why would I contribute to the need to be tuned in by texting?And yet…I wanted to see her. She worked so hard, and she’d been so worn out by Sunday’s events. I’d left her dinner Monday night, but since I’d worked late yesterday, I hadn’t gotten to. So tonight, I’d track her down.
She rolled into her usual parking spot at nearly eight-thirty. I didn’t want to seem like a puppy waiting at the door for her, though it wouldn’t have been an inaccurate description, so I decided to take a lap around the kitchen and then exit the house.
By the time I did so, she was still sitting in the car.
Worry spiked, and I jogged over to her driver’s side door, sliding the pastry box onto the roof and yanking the door open.
“Dove, what?—”
She looked nearly gray in the dim light, her color so off.
“I don’t feel good.”
“No, you mustn’t. Can I help you inside?”
She looked at her hands where they rested limply on her navy scrub-clad legs. “I was going to go inside. Get some fluids and take some meds. But I can’t seem to make me do it.”
There was something so adorably simple and innocent about that statement, so plain and sweet, and yet the charm it held soured when I acknowledged how unlike her it was. She was quick to act and get things done. She didn’t linger in her car, and she didn’t talk as though she had no control over her body.
“Can I help you inside, Dove?” I asked again, hoping she’d give her consent this time, but deciding that even if she didn’t, I’d try to coax her out of the car and see if I could get a handle on what was wrong.
“You? You can help me with anything you want. You can get it, Dorian.”
Her eyes widened and blinked so innocently, I almost wished it were brighter so I could enjoy the expression.
I coughed, trying not to laugh at a time like now.Good to know I can get it.She hadn’t hidden her attraction to me by any means, but for a heartbeat, I stayed immobilized by the delight before my logic broke through and restarted my movements.
“Alright. Let’s get you unbuckled, and I’ll help you in. We’ll figure this out.”
Her soft “’kay” came in a whisper, but she still didn’t move. So, I started narrating my movements.
“I’m unbuckling you now.” With a click, the belt released, and I guided it over her inert arm and past her faceback to its resting, retracted position. “Now I’m going to take your arm and help you up, okay?”
She nodded, not resisting, but barely helping. With more effort than I’d expected, I maneuvered her out of the car, all while she periodically whispered her apologies.
As I guided her up the stairs holding most of her weight slumped against me with one hand around her back, I took her keys and unlocked her door. “No need to apologize, honey. You’re sick.”
