Page 29 of Follow Me
Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how much more fight he had in him. If he lost her after all this, what was the point of life? If she wouldn’t let him help her, take care of her, how was he supposed to protect her?
When he arrived, he opened the door, another pang hitting him to not have her kneeling in the entry and waiting for him.
Although there hadn’t been any of that lately, either. He wouldn’t have her doing it while she was so dangerously thin, and in the aftermath of losing the baby he didn’t ask it of her because of all the reasons physical and emotional.
“I’m here,” he called out.
That’s when he realized something smelled…wonderful.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
He joined her there, pausing in the doorway to watch. She was bent over, peeking in the oven at whatever she had cooking. She was wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweat pants. “Hi,” he said.
She cast a smile over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail low on her head, and he could almost see the past and not her current thin, frail state. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“It smells delicious.”
“It’s almost ready.” She closed the oven door and stood, then he realized she had vegetables in a covered casserole dish, and a large salad. “It’s pumpkin lasagne.”
He’d started walking toward her and pulled up at that. “Pumpkin?”
She laughed, and the sweet sound tugged on his heart. “I know, right? But it’s savory, not sweet. It takes the place of tomato, so it’s not as acidic.”
“Oh.”
She closed the distance and smiled up at him. He had to admit, she looked happier than she had in a long time. “Thank you, Kel. For trusting me.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard, squeezing him.
He gently rested his arms against her back and closed his eyes while he inhaled her scent. “I love you, sweetheart. I told you, whatever we need to do, I’ll do it.”
“I know how hard this is on you.”
You havenoidea.
But he didn’t say that.
She’d already set the table, so he couldn’t even do that for her. And when she dished out her portion, while it wasn’t as much as he wished it was, he kept his mouth shut because it was a damn sight more than she’d eaten in the past.
When they sat down, she took a picture of her plate. He watched as she did something on her phone, apparently entering it into her tracking log.
Eventually he’d have full access to that, too. For now, Doyle, Niall, and Doug were on top of it, monitoring her.
“Oh, I did the laundry,” she said, and then they were chatting. “I folded your clothes and put them away for you.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He didn’t try to argue with her about it because he didn’t want to hear that hurt tone in her voice again.
He couldn’t help but pay attention while she ate, noted how she took her time, chewing slowly, the food obviously still on her mind, how she took tiny bites.
But she ate everything she’d dished out for herself, so he forced back every question and concern and locked them tightly away, saved for the men.
He wanted to betherewith her tonight, not rehashing everything. He would stay as on top of this as he could and pray the men were paying attention. He wasn’t forbidden from coming over whenever he wanted, which was the only reason he wasn’t fighting her on this now.
If he felt she was in trouble, he could intervene.
But how will I know for sure?
After dinner, she let him help her clean up the kitchen, at least. He watched as she portioned out the leftover lasagne into individual containers, three of which she tucked into the freezer, the rest going into the fridge.
“We can have those tomorrow night,” she said.
