Page 43 of Make You Love Me
“Jordan.” I place a hand on his stomach, and his muscles tense. “Never apologize.”
He takes me in for a moment. “You seem different.”
My hand slides into my lap before he feels my nerves. “I do?”
He nods slowly, his eyes still studying, his frown more pronounced.
“It’s probably because you gave me four orgasms last night. A record for us.” I push to my knees to place a gentle kiss to his lips, but he doesn’t respond. Sitting back, I reach for the bagel and try not to focus on his icy gaze. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“You can have this after we get you up.” I set the plate on the mattress for incentive and hope it lifts his mood. Without thinking, I remove the blankets, revealing his nakedness I somehow forgot about. My eyes travel over him. At least part of him is happy to see me, I joke to myself.
I feel him watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do next. My mouth waters for another taste of him until his shiver in response to the cool room recalls my caregiver responsibility—the helpless feeling of seeing him disconnected and trembling is still too fresh to get the juices flowing. I toss the blankets back over him.
“You’ve had a difficult morning.”
“Feels like it.”
“We’ll take it easy today, and if all goes well, we can resume our travel itinerary tomorrow.”
He doesn’t protest. Instead, he sits up, using his good arm for leverage, and leans against the pillowed wall without my help. I watch him closely, searching for signs of an impending seizure, new pain, or reason for the sharp decline in his mood. His eyes close as he breathes deep and shuts me out.
Passing over the bagel, I rise to collect his clothes, the medication, and a glass of water. The plate is empty by the time I return.
“Well, you did say you were hungry,” I joke, expecting him to join in the banter, but he stays stoic, distant.
I drop to my knees in front of him and work the sweatshirt, boxers, and shorts into place. Unlike yesterday, there are no longing eyes meeting mine. No advances to touch me. No smiles, teases, or words of affirmation. Only heavy tension and disturbing emptiness until I reach for the prescriptions.
“I’m done with those.”
“Why?” I ask, still holding the three small bottles. “They’re prescribed for a reason.”
“Mainly pain, and I don’t like how they make me feel.”
“You wanted them yesterday.” Many things were different yesterday.
“It’s my body.”
“Fine.” I set them aside and shudder from the unyielding agitation in his tone. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“My phone. Please,” he adds, recognizing his answer sounded more ungrateful than he intended. My usual colorful response tickles my throat but doesn’t form. He’s been through a lot, and his head injury is undoubtedly affecting him more than either of us realizes.
I snatch his phone from the kitchen counter and hand it to him. “I’m going to freshen up. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He raises his gaze to me, but it quickly falls back to the phone.
“I’ll help you to the bathroom when I get back. Don’t forget your PT appointment is later this morning.”
He nods but gives me nothing further to tell me he isn’t upset or falling apart inside. In a matter of hours, he’s gone from sweet, adoring boyfriend to tolerating my presence. The love Isaw in his eyes the last few days has disappeared completely and since nothing happened to trigger it—quite the opposite, in fact—that could mean only one thing.
He knows.
???
Jordan
Me:Would you have time to talk after my appointment today?
