Page 43 of Break Point
“The only bad idea is that you’re taking too long to feed me,” I retort. “I’m losing precious minutes of sleep.”
He groans because he knows I’m right and moves on to produce a Chocolate Chunk from the box. But instead of setting it on the plate, he takes a massive bite out of it.
“Don’t you dare!” I snap, leaning in to stretch out my hand, trying to seize it from his grasp, but he takes a step back and gives my cookieanotherbite.
I’m fuming at the audacity, but the slight tug at the right corner of his lips lets me know he’s enjoying my exasperation. And I must admit that I’m trying my best not to laugh.
Henry’s right, though. Eating more sugar than I should might give me an unwelcome energy boost and keep me awake longer.
“Okay, I’ll settle for one … and a half.” I reach out again and try to steal the remains of the cookie from his hand, but he lifts it over his head, and there’s no way for me to reach it.
In a burst of impulsive stupidity, I climb on the island’s counter to tower over Henry and confiscate the freaking cookie once and for all, but he tosses what’s left of it into his mouth.
I’m left standing on the counter like an idiot and groaning like a five-year-old would right before throwing a temper tantrum. Henry lets out a roar of laughter.
I’m laughing against my will, but he’s being too loud. As much as I enjoy the familiar interaction, he needs to keep it down because Liam and Robbie are sleeping.
“Shhhh!” I whisper, still chuckling. I turn to get off the counter, but the moment I step forward, my right foot skids on a water ring left behind by my glass of milk. My heart lurches as gravity takes over.
“Bells!” Henry’s voice is sharp with panic as he rushes toward me, but it’s too late. My left knee slams against the edge of the counter with a dull thud, sending a sharp pain shooting through my leg. My arms flail, desperate for something to grab onto. The world tilts, and I brace myself for impact, anticipating the crash against the cold, hard surface.
As the inevitability of my fall settles in, strong, warm hands grip myribcage, halting my descent mere inches from hitting the floor. My breath catches as Henry steadies me, his touch firm and grounding.
“Got you,” he says, feeling his chest heaving against my back as he settles me on my feet.
We’re both breathing like we’ve run half a marathon, and Henry’s fresh, soapy scent lingers in my nose.
“Fuck …” Henry lets out a sharp hiss, massaging his shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” I blurt. “I’m so sorry.”
Henry takes a sharp breath in through his nose and drops his hand from his shoulder like he didn’t almost cry out in pain.
“It’s nothing,” he rasps out. “Go sit in the living room so I can check your knee.”
“Henry—”
“Bells …” he cuts me off, his eyes staring into mine in a supplicating way. “Just do as you’re told. I’ll go grab an ice pack. And stay put.”
He turns around and heads for the fridge before I can keep complaining. He’s using his coach voice to nudge me into obedience, and it’s working. But I’m fine. My knee feels sore as I walk to the living room, but it’s nothing to worry about. I can tell. I might not be prone to injuries, but I’m no stranger to them, either.
I plop back onto the couch as Henry rushes in with an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel. He sits on the coffee table and hands it to me, his movements quick yet careful. I press the cold pack against my knee, wincing at the sting of the contact.
Henry leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and his chin on his clasped hands, his knuckles pressing lightly against his jaw. His legs bounce nervously, his feet tapping against the floor like he’s bracing himself for bad news in a hospital waiting room.
“You’re so dramatic,” I tease to lighten the mood.
He remains silent for a moment before he finally speaks.
“That fall could have ruined your entire tennis career. Who knows what else could’ve happened if I hadn’t caught you on time. You could’ve gotten seriously injured, and it would’ve been on me,” he says, his tone grave and laced with evident apprehensiveness. “All for a damn cookie.”
“Well, I’m sad to inform you I got up there on my own stupid accord, so stop beating yourself up about this being your fault.”
“I was teasing you, and I shouldn’t have—” He presses his lips and looks away, cutting himself off mid-sentence. His shoulder twitches, and he swallows down a whimper.
“Henry?”
“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s nothing.” His tone sharpens, so I let it go. He must’ve overexerted himself, carrying my weight at that awkward angle. He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Bells.”
