Page 56 of The Burdens We Share
“I always like to look my best,” I shrug.
He just laughs at me and I ask, “When can I leave?”
“I’ll talk to the doctor.” He gets up and walks to the outside of the room, peeking out into the hallway in search of a nurse. He calls one over to the room and looks at me over his shoulder, a smile on his face that says everything is going to be okay.
Chapter 18
Dallas
Ivory was released fromthe hospital a week ago and I made sure to bring her to my house instead of hers. I felt it would be a better idea to have her in a new space rather than the space that she was in when she developed her eating disorder. I’d also be lying if I didn’t say a small part of me wanted her in my house. I’ve had fantasies in my head of her here for almost a year and now I get to see it up close. It does strange things to me.
She didn’t put up an argument about staying at my house because she entrusted me completely with her recovery. In the week that’s passed, I’ve monitored her food intake, making sure she ate balanced meals. I started her off slow with small portions that wouldn’t freak her out, and now I’m pleased to share that I have her eating about halfway where she should be. She’s making good progress and I’m especially proud of her because I watch her struggle when I put a plate in front of her and I watch her fight the voice in her head.
A new tactic I have is weekly weigh-ins. Ivory’s starting weight before her problem started was one-twelve. When she came home from the hospital she was at one-hundred and four. The goal is to get her back to where she needs to be and I’m implementing the strategy to track our progress. I sayourbecause that’s what this is. This is our burden to bear together, whether she likes it or realizes it or not.
I set her up in one of the guest bedrooms because while we may have shared a bed once, we aren’t quite there yet. I fullyplan on going all the way with her, filling every part of my life with her, but I need to focus on her getting better first.
I knock on the bedroom door and she opens it a moment later, dressed in a cropped, tight light pink top that shows off her ample cleavage and a pair of jeans. I smile at the sight of her dressed so much like her old self. The dark circles under her eyes are even starting to go away. She’s made up and her hair is styled to perfection in soft curls. “Hi,” she greets, affection for me in her eyes. Things between us have shifted. We have a newfound openness between us, an unbreakable bond. I let her see the darkest parts of me and I’ve seen the darkest parts of her.
I reach for a curl and play with the pink strands beneath my fingers, “Hello, Little Devil.”
She leans into me and looks up at me with excited eyes as if she’s fully expecting me to rip her clothes off and have my way with her. I would love to do that but now isn’t the time. “What’s going on?” She asks, advancing the conversation.
I meet her eyes and drop the curl, stuffing my hands into my pockets before I do something rash like grab her and kiss her. “I have to go to the office today since Selene gave you off and we don’t need to be on set. I’m behind on some things.”
A wicked gleam meets her eyes and she reaches up and straightens my already perfect tie, “Does that mean I get to come with you?”
“That’s exactly what that means,” I confirm.
She places her palms flat on my chest, “Then lead the way, cowboy,” she commands as she playfully pushes off me and starts for the stairs. I watch her walk past me with awe. Did she just give me a nickname? I can’t say I don’t like it. I think I’d love anything she called me. I just love the fact that she called mesomething. God, what is this woman doing to me?
She looks over her shoulder and her tone shifts intoseriousness as she asserts, “By the way, we have to get you some pink ties. The black is too boring.”
I raise a brow at her, but inevitably shake my head and stifle a laugh as I head toward her at the stairs. I’ve only ever worn black ties because they look professional and I didn’t care for color. The only color I’ve ever liked in my life is pink and the reason for that is looking back at me right now. I imagine myself wearing a pink tie and the thought doesn’t disturb me. Infact, I think it’s a great idea.
Ivory
DALLAS’ OFFICE IS FUCKINGmassive. It’s like two of my bedroom in one. The floors are a dark wood and so is all the furniture. There’s dim lighting in here and the vibe is giving villain. It’s kind of sexy to picture Dallas at that desk ruining people’s lives on a computer all while in a suit and in this office.
I lounge on his black leather couch as he works on his computer, his eyes focused and his expression almost annoyed. I take it that’s his work face. I just watch him, completely enamored by him. In the last week of being in his house, his space, I’ve gotten so much closer to him. We just have a shift in the air between us and it feels like we know each other more intimately yet we haven’t even had sex yet. Most days he works on his computer and I watch him and when we aren’t cooking together or just talking, I’m playing guitar sometimes alone, sometimes with him listening intently, lost in my melodies. We spend the evenings watching reality shows that I force him to watch and classic chick flicks that he only puts up with for me.
As he works right now, I scroll on TikTok until his phone rings. I look up at him and he flips his phone over and raises it to his ear. He rises from his desk and starts walking towards the door, mouthingbe right backto me before he opens the large door and steps outside. I imagine he’s standing directly in frontof the door because knowing him, he wouldn’t even leave me unattended from any further than that.
I get bored on TikTok and decide to snoop around his things. I get up and stride over to his desk, plopping down in his fancy chair. I touch the few things on his desk and open some drawers in hopes of finding something interesting, but of course, I find nothing. As I’m rifling through the drawers, I find one that’s locked. I try to open it, but it doesn’t budge. Bummer. I’m sure whatever’s in there is actually interesting, especially if he locked it up. He has nothing personal in this office, I wonder if whatever is in the drawer is personal.
The possibilities of what could be inside flow through my mind in a whirlwind and suddenly, the door opens and Dallas is tucking his phone into his pocket. He takes in the sight of me at his desk and gives me an amused smile, “Snooping through my things, Little Devil?”
I smirk, “You know it, cowboy.”
“Find anything interesting?” He asks.
I shake my head in disappointment, “Unfortunately not. Though I did find a locked drawer I’m particularly curious about.”
He walks towards me slowly, a predator stalking its prey, and he stops beside me. I have to look up to glimpse at that perfect face with an amused expression and a hint of danger. Oh, the way it just does things to me. “A word of advice, usually when things are locked it’s for a reason.”
My eyes widen, “Now I really want to know.”
He chuckles darkly, “One day. Not today though.”
