Page 23 of Follow Me
The breath whooshed out of him. “I’m…I’mnotmad, sweetheart. I’mworried.” He bit off the urge to ask her to let him come home tonight, to hold her, to watch over her.
Niall had warned him not to hover, not to manipulate.
Had warned him theywouldbe asking her if he tried to pull a Dom-card move on her to get her to let him come home, and that they would deal with him accordingly if he did anything to try to derail their process with her.
“Doug took me to the grocery store before he brought me home. I’m sorry I haven’t been home to cook for you.”
That reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and there wasn’t any food in the kitchen there. He’d have to walk across the street to the sub shop, because he didn’t feel like going to the grocery store.
“I don’t care about that,” he said. “Your health is more important to me. I’m a big boy. I can feed myself.”
An uncomfortable pause followed that he felt too terrified to try to interpret.
“I had my first appointment today…” She told him about talking to the men, but not a lot of details, which he’d already been warned about by Niall.
She told him about the group text thread, and the tracking app, again things that Niall had already told him.
He had his own group thread with the three men now, but he suspected his would be a lot quieter than hers.
When she got to the dinner portion of her tale, his eyes opened. “You cooked yourself dinner tonight? Not just a shake?”
Before, he’d always felt like he’d needed to keep cooking, keep ahead of her to make sure there was always something there for her to easily eat if he wasn’t home, because it was too easy for her to default to a shake instead of real food. He’d always followed her food plans to the letter, knowing it sometimes irritated her, him hounding her to eat. Hell, he’d even set alarms on his phone to make sure he either fixed her food for her, or if he wasn’t home that he called her and made sure she ate.
“It’s the meal plan…” She actually retrieved the papers and started reading it to him, which was…fine. He closed his eyes and listened to her talk, glad to hear she wasn’t crying.
Glad he wasn’t crying as he listened to her.
But he didn’t dare hope.
Hope hurt too damn much.
They talked for the better part of an hour, which was actually longer than they’d talked in a while.
Including she clarified that they weren’t “separated.” That he wasn’t banned from the house.
That she was supposed to have contact with him every day, and she wanted to do that.
But she needed space—and he still wasn’t sure he understood that, especially after all the time they’d spent apart lately while she’d been in-patient.
“I’ll be talking to Doyle on the phone tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll text you when we finish, if you want to call me.”
And there it was.
She was finally closer than ever physically, but it still felt like a galaxy separated them. “Sure, sweetheart. I don’t have any shoots tomorrow.”
“I’ve got the laundry going,” she said. “If you’ll come over for dinner tomorrow night, bring your laundry with you so I can wash it.”
More guilt on his plate. “Honey, it’s okay. I can wash my laundry.” Hell, he’d done it before her, he’d been doing it for over a year now.
She sighed. “Oh. Okay.”
Guilt knifed his soul at her soft, disappointed tone. “Let’s work back to that slowly, okay? I’d prefer you focus on whatever Doug, Niall, and Doyle tell you to. I’ll stop by the store on my way over tomorrow. What time do you want me there?”
“You don’t need to go to the store. I went tonight. I have what I’ll need. I want to cook for you.”
“I—” His mouth snapped shut and he took a deep breath. “Okay, sweetheart. What time?”
“Six? If that’s okay?” She sounded hurt and he didn’t know what he’d said wrong.
