Page 11 of Rescuing Josiah
Startled, she looked over the back of the couch to see Josiah walking out of the kitchen carrying a steaming mug in his hands. When they finally got home from the hospital, she’d gone up to take a shower and change, then settled on the couch in the living room, while he’d disappeared, she assumed to go back to the gym and work out his excess energy.
Honestly, she hadn't expected to see him again until dinner time, and given how she was feeling, she probably would have ordered something rather than cooked. But it wasn't even four thirty yet, still at least an hour away from when she’d drag herself to the kitchen or give in and order takeout.
“Coffee?” she asked as she took the mug.
“Tea. Lavender. Supposed to relax you or something.” He shrugged and looked away, like he was embarrassed.
Not that he needed to be.
Being thoughtful was nothing to be embarrassed about, it was just normal, common courtesy behavior. Still, for six years, Josiah had been working at pushing people away, keeping distance between them, so it was no wonder he was feelinguncomfortable now, he wasn't used to doing this kind of thing anymore.
“Thank you. I love lavender tea, it’s actually my favorite.” Holding the mug up to her nose, she breathed in deeply, letting the soft scent soothe her. Trying out different flavors of tea was always fun, and the first sip she’d taken of lavender many years ago had her hooked.
He grunted but then held out his hand. “Painkillers.”
For a moment, Chelsea thought about assuring Josiah that she wasn't in too much pain, it was more just like general discomfort taking over all of her body, but he was making an effort, trying to take care of her, and she found she couldn’t say no.
“Thank you,” she said again as she took the pills, popped them into her mouth, and swallowed them down with a sip of her tea. “Mmm,” she moaned in delight as the sweet lavender flavor touched her tongue. “This is perfect. I didn't even realize I needed it until you made it for me.”
Another grunt, but she would have sworn that Josiah’s cheeks pinked slightly. “Let me take a look at your stomach,” he said, already dropping to his knees. He didn't wait for her to lift the hem of her oversized T-shirt to give him access to the small wound and device that was now attached to her, although not as it would be if she were really having dialysis.
“Doesn’t hurt, just a little annoying,” she assured him, because his brow had furrowed and she wasn't even sure he was aware that one of his large hands rested against her stomach, his thumb brushing small circles around the tube.
This right here was why she’d fallen so hard for this man. He was angry at the whole world, she got that, but it was because of what had happened to him, because of all he’d lost. Josiah was a good man who didn't know how to deal with his trauma andwas so terrified of suffering any more loss that he had erected a thousand-foot razor wire-topped fence around his heart.
But he was suffering alone, and he didn't have to.
She was here, and she’d help if he could just let her.
“I am feeling a little … blah, though. So I thought I might just order us some dinner rather than cook. I guess that means you're off the hook for eating with me tonight.” She could use the company, but the deal was that if she cooked, he ate with her. If she wasn't, she couldn’t expect him to hang around, that wouldn't be fair.
His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “You hate ordering food.”
Surprised he knew that about her, she gave a small nod. “Guess I’ve been too spoiled over the years. My mom loved cooking, so we hardly ever ate out, and Teresa loves cooking, too, so since we live together, she usually cooks for all of us.”
Josiah cleared his throat, and she didn't need to know him well to know he was uncomfortable again. “I already got a pot roast cooking.”
There was nothing he could have said that would have surprised her more.
Nothing.
Not even if he told her he was a Martian who’d come to take over the Earth.
“A pot roast?”
“We had all the ingredients,” he said, dropping his gaze again to stare at her stomach. “I put in carrots, potatoes, onion, and parsnip. I thought you might not feel like cooking, and I didn't want you to have to order takeout if we could avoid it.”
“That’s so sweet, thank you,” Chelsea gushed.
Josiah just grunted and shrugged, moving her T-shirt back down to cover the tube. Before he could stand and move away, she grabbed hold of his hand, keeping him close. Not ready for there to be much distance between them. Even though he wouldhave preferred to do this alone, she was part of it, and he was all she had for a support system. She was all he had, too.
“I mean it. I know you don’t like any of this. I know you don’t … like me?—”
“Stop saying that,” he growled.
“Saying what?”
“That I don’t like you. I never said I didn't like you.”
