Page 51 of Make Me Trust Again
Closing my eyes for a moment, I push back the memories and swallow the knot in my throat as I link my finger through his.
“I promise.”
The words feel heavy on my shoulders, but Kyle seems to be reassured. He calls out to Shadow, and the two of them disappear into the kitchen.
Pushing upright, I go to the bathroom. Rose looks up immediately, pulling the towel closer around her. From the corner of my eye, I can see the wet underwear on the floor. My throat bobs as I swallow, trying to get the image of Rose slipping out of that tiny lace out of my head as I close the distance between us and unfold the shirt, slipping it over her head.
“Arms.”
Rose slips her arms into the oversized shirt—thankfuck—my fingers wrapping around a new pair of lace. Seriously, does this woman not have any other kind of underwear? Color fills her cheeks, and I know this time it doesn’t have anything to do with the fever.
Crouching down, I bite back a groan as I help her step into her underwear, my gaze holding hers as I slide them into place under the shirt. My fingertips graze the soft skin as I pull my hands back, and she lets out a shaky breath, her fingers clutching tighter around the towel she’s still holding.
“Chase…”
My lips press into a tight line as I push to my feet. “Let’s put you to bed.”
Taking the towel from her, I toss it into the hamper before opening the door for her.
“I’m really feeling better, I should get Kyle?—”
I narrow my eyes at her. Seriously, how stubborn can one woman be?
Gritting my teeth, I go to her and lift her into my arms.
“Chase, what?—”
“You’re getting your ass into bed.”
“I can walk,” she protests, trying to push me back, but I’m not budging. “Let me down. This is ridiculous.”
“Damn sure is,” I mutter softly as I push the door to her room wide open and slip inside.
Crossing the room, I put her down on the bed. She took off that clip, and now her hair is spreading over the white pillowcase like a curtain of silky strands. Before I can think better of it or stop myself, I brush one runaway strand out of her face. “I’ll get Kyle. You try to get some rest.”
“But…” she tries to protest weakly; however, her eyelids are already closing. Hopefully, the medicine is starting to kick in.
“But nothing. You’re no good to your son if you’re sick, Rose. You need to take care of yourself.”
“Tell that to your sister. She was sick the other day, and whatever she had, she transferred it to me. Because that’s just my luck,” Rose mutters, clearly unhappy. She nuzzles her head into the pillow and blinks, her eyelids heavy. “You shouldn’t be here. You might get sick.”
“I have tough skin.”
“Hmm… I have tough skin, too,” she murmurs softly, and this time, when her eyelids close, I think she’s fallen asleep, but then she says, “I’m the one taking care of people, not the other way around.”
I can see that. Ihaveseen that. That day when her tire burst. The way she takes care of her son. The way she advocates for him. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders all on her own.
“Not tonight.”
I can understand that. I was like that. Always taking care of the people in my life ever since my dad died. My siblings. My mother. My unit.
And look how that turned out.
I push back the little voice inside my head. It’s been more insistent these days. Harder to ignore.
Rose is different. She deserves better—somebody to take care of her for a change.
And what makes you think you’re the right guy for that?
