Page 19 of Make You Love Me
Despite my growing concern over his slow recovery, I laugh. “I imagine it’s not pleasant for either of you.”
“Thankfully, it’s just a sponge bath, but I much rather you do it.”
His eyebrows wiggle, and the thought of touching his naked body does something to my insides I can’t decipher. Is it desire, dread, excitement, fear? All the above?
“We’ll see,” is all I can muster out of my muddled brain. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“You’re doing it now.”
His gaze locks on mine, sweet and sensual. It’s how he used to look at me before an engagement ring complicated our arrangement and sent us into another round of arguments and breakups. Before I freaked out and turned into a runaway bride without a wedding ceremony. My heart revs at the possibility of him asking that impossible question again during this charade.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, holding my clammy palm against his chest.
The pace of his sprinting heartbeat matches my own. How will I live with myself if I hurt him or cause more health issues because I can’t get a grip?
“Nothing,” I say with a conviction that even I believe. “I just haven’t adjusted to all this yet.” It’s the truth, just not the truth he understands.
“Me either, but I like to look at it as an extended leave. We get more than a weekend together—a month, possibly more—and I’m looking forward to it.”
“You’re the sweetest, you know that?”
He pauses, pinning me with an incomprehensible stare. “You’ve never told me that before.”
“What?”
Was I really that horrible to him? How could I never have told him how amazing he is? With frustration, I think back. Since we met, I refused to be seen with him in public, disregarded his feelings, and never appreciated the joy he brought into my life. I rarely, if ever, mentioned anything that involved my heart, thinking only of myself. His kind nature and tenderness were overlooked or discouraged on a regular basis.
So, yeah. I really wasthathorrible.
Fear and stubborn pride controlled my life, yet somehow, he loved me still. Shame shudders through my body, but it doesn’t change the past or why that stubbornness was there in the first place. I never deserved him, and he is better off finding someone who does.
“Well, I should have,” I finally say, knowing it doesn’t make up for five years of keeping those words to myself. “You are one of the sweetest, most selfless people I know, and you deserve the world. I regret never telling you that.”
“Okay.” He drops my hand like it burst into flames. “Who are you, and what did you do with my snarky girl?”
My back straightens as I take him in. His playfulness is back, and I’m grateful. “I can bring her back if you prefer.”
“No, not yet. I’m liking this new softie side, too.”
“Don’t get used to her. She only comes out of hiding in dire situations.”
“I didn’t know my situation was that grim.”
“It’s pretty bleak, but I have faith that you can turn it around.”
“Wow. Softnessandfaith in me. I should have gotten injured long before now.”
I pop a hand on his good leg. “Shut your mouth, or Josie will come out here and do it for you.”
“Right. I don’t—” The base of his hand flies up to his temple, and with a grimace, he rubs hard.
“Jordan, what is it?”
His body twitches, then convulses as if in answer. I shoot to my feet, my mind reeling with a thousand competing thoughts. Instinct kicks in, and I check my watch: 4:16 p.m. I try to keep him from slipping out of the chair but can’t do it alone. I call out for Josie. When she arrives, she’s in a state of panic and fear, but we work together to get him back in place.
“What’s happening?” she asks, fear shredding her voice.
“It’s a seizure.”
