Page 33 of Melting His Grumpy Heart
“I’m really not tired?—”
“Sofa or bed?” Jake repeated, not a question but a command.
Ru conceded defeat. “Sofa.”
The living room looked different in daylight, still homely but lacking the magical quality of last night’s lamplight. Ru lowered himself to the sofa under Jake’s watchful eye, suppressing a smile at the unnecessary hovering.
“Blanket?” Jake asked, already reaching for the throw folded over the armchair. “I’ll get the hot chocolate. Stay there and don’t move.”
As Jake disappeared into the kitchen, Ru lent back against the cushions, gingerly touching his nose and wincing. Now he was settled in the warm, every bone in his body began to ache.
A few minutes later, Jake returned with the hot chocolate and two painkillers, which he set down on the coffee table. “The weather’s turning again,” he said, nodding at the window. “It was just a lull in the storm, not the end of it.”
“At least we got time to build the snowman.”
Jake smiled, his features lightening. “We did. And the snowball fight, even if you don’t play fair.”
“Don’t know what you mean,” Ru said, feigning innocence.
Jake settled into the other sofa. Everything about him was alert as if ready to spring into action at the first sign of distress. His eyes kept returning to Ru’s face, checking and assessing.
“I’m not going to collapse, you know. You can relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Ru smiled, wincing slightly as it pulled at his sore nose. “Of course you are. The very picture of relaxation.”
“Just drink your hot chocolate.”
The sweet, warm liquid was rich and soothing, and Ru sighed as he settled into the easy quiet. A hard gust of wind hit the house. Ru glanced towards the window. The storm was coming back with a vengeance.
“Will the power go again?”
“Unlikely.” Jake took a sip of his drink, eyes still on Ru over the rim of his mug.
“Well, that’s good. I suppose.”
Jake’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You don’t sound pleased.”
Ru hesitated. “Well, I rather liked the lamplight,” he admitted. “It was atmospheric.”
Something shifted in Jake’s expression, a brief softening that made Ru’s breath catch.
“It was,” he agreed quietly.
A fresh gust rattled the windows, drawing both their attention.
Jake set his mug aside. “I should bring in more firewood before it hits.”
“I can lend a hand?—”
“You can,by staying exactly where you are,” he said, glaring down at him. “I won’t be long.”
Ru settled deeper into the sofa. His limbs were starting to feel loose. Maybe the painkillers contained a mild sedative. His nose still throbbed, but the pain felt distant compared to the warmth spreading through his chest.
There was something undeniably appealing about being so thoroughly looked after. He wasn’t used to it, but he liked it. Nobody had cared for him like Jake had. Well, his parents had, when he’d been unwell as a kid, but that didn’t count. Cooper certainly hadn’t. He’d never cared, not really. The comparison rose unbidden, and Ru pushed it away. Jake wasn’t Cooper. The differences between them were as vast as the snow covered landscape outside. No, he didn’t want to think about Cooper ever again.
Outside the living room window, the snowman stood watch as the first new snowflakes began to fall, its crooked smile and jaunty hat a reminder of the morning’s brief, perfect playfulness. Inside, Ru touched his tender nose and smiled despite the ache, already looking forward to Jake’s return, as his eyes closed and sleep claimed him.
