Round 23 #3
She gives my chest a condescending pat. “Oh geez, Doctor Douchebag. I got knocked up nine months ago, hoping, begging, praying it would be you staring at my vagina during the month of love.”
“You’re being obnoxious.”
“As are you.” She slaps my hand and twists away, stopping me from stealing her list, then she crosses to the fridge and yanks it open. “The women line up to see you, Doctor Darling. Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Girl. Nine pounds of double chins, chunky thighs, and arms. Mom and baby are fine, and her husband played chaperone the whole time we were together.” I cross to the counter and sit where she sat this morning.
Her sketchbook remains open, pencils lying on top.
But there are no shavings on the stone. No eraser marks.
Not even an empty water glass… or Coke can.
“Caroline, the mom, and her husband, Pete, went to high school with me and my friends, just so you know. She’s immune to my devilishly good looks and addictive charm. Exposure therapy got her there.”
“Kind of like what you’re doing with me.” She snags a plate of chicken breast from the middle shelf, then a stick of butter and a bottle of cream. “I watched a cooking show today, too.”
“You did a lot of things today.” I watch as she sets things down and heads to the pantry for pasta. “And still found time to build a deck.”
“I’ve added excess electricity costs to my list, too, since you wouldn’t typically have a television running all day.”
“Rose—”
“And I didn’t build a deck. You built it.
I just added wood to the top and hammered some nails in.
” She snags a chopping board from the cupboard and a clove of garlic from the pantry.
“I saw this recipe today; it’s like a chicken bake thing.
It looked amazing, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, so I went through your freezer searching for chicken breast, and your fridge had everything else.
” She picks up the knife, almost fucking frenzied in her bright-eyed expression. “I’m starving.”
“And yet, you waited for me to get home.” Pushing up from the stool and leaving behind several drawings of that dude’s eyes—Smiling eyes.
Narrowed eyes. Tired eyes. Happy eyes—I roll my sleeves up and come around to the sink to wash my hands.
“You probably know how to cook safely, even if you don’t remember it from before, you saw that show today.
And you’re hungry after hours of physical labor.
And still…” I glance across and find her impossibly close.
Her shoulder almost tucked under my arm, and her head tilted back, her eyes locked on to mine.
I can’t help the way my gaze drops to her plump lips.
How my brows pinch and my throat turns dry.
“And still?” she prompts. Fuck her for licking her lips. For smiling around her tongue. Don’t even think about it, Oliver. “Still what?”
“You respected my request to wait.” I draw a heavy breath and swing my gaze back to my task, scrubbing soap between my palms. My fingers. All the way up and over my wrists. “You drew more today.” I tilt my chin toward her book. “Did you remember more?”
“Nah.” She circles away to grab a pot for the pasta, then, handing me a towel, she hip-bumps me aside and uses the still-running water to fill the pot.
“I don’t even know if I’m drawing from memory, or just…
” She slaps the faucet off and spins, setting the pot on the stove.
“If I’m making it up, ya know? Maybe I’m just drawing for the fun of it, and not because it’s a memory. ”
“Either way, I see no problem with drawing if it brings you happiness.” With my hands clean and dry, I turn to her the way I turn to a nurse in the OR, hands up, readying for my gown. “What do you want me to do?”
She snorts and pushes the garlic and chopping board along the counter. “Chop that, Doc. Nice and small. Permission to turn the stove on? That would mean creating fire.”
I chuckle under my breath and pick up the knife. “Permission granted. Also, I was thinking you should come to the gym with me tomorrow after work.”
She skids to a stop and jerks her head around, her eyes locking on to mine. She blinks. Blinks. Blinks. “What?”
“You know my buddies own a fight gym, right? It’s world-class and spits out world champions like it’s easy.
They run kiddie classes in the afternoons and adult classes in the evenings.
Pro fighters do their thing during the day, working on their fitness or whatever, but they dedicate three o’clock onwards to teaching others. ”
“Which explains why you came home with a bruised jaw yesterday, I suppose.”
I hate that I’ve knocked the smile clean off her face.
That I’ve stolen the light from her eyes.
But this is how I prepare us. This is how I make sure that if danger comes looking for her, she’s ready and able to defend herself.
Because if I’m to step in front of her, and she’s determined to step in front of me, I need to know we’re both ready for whatever is coming.
Or die trying.
“They specialize in women’s self-defense training over there, so I wanna get you in, teach you a few moves.
” I chew on the inside of my cheek and ignore the garlic I’m supposed to chop.
“You’re afraid, Rose. And your brain is kicking your ass when you’re supposed to be asleep.
It would make me feel a hell of a lot better if you knew how to defend yourself.
Just in case. And maybe it’ll make your brain feel better too, which might make the nightmares go away. ”
“And you…” Her brows furrow heavily over her eyes. “You wouldn’t consider letting me watch a fight movie on the television, right? Watching things has proven quite helpful to me today.”
“Watch as many movies as you like, but this is one of those things you need to learn by doing. But I could put you in with women only, if that would make you feel more comfortable. I could talk to Tommy and Chris and have them shut the whole damn place down to everyone except chicks if that’s what you need. ”
“W-would you stay? For the classes. Or would you leave?”
“I can stay and watch if you want. Or I could leave, if watching you makes you feel weird.”
“I would want you to stay. Please.” But then she gasps, blushing bright red. “Or not.”
“What?” I set the knife down and press my hip against the counter. “What did you just think inside your head?”
“That maybe you need some time alone. Handing me off to someone else for the evening, but you don’t want to say so because you think it’ll hurt my feelings.”
I hook my hand in her hoodie pocket and drag her closer. “If I wanted alone time, I’d tell you. I’m trying to help you. Not get rid of you.”
“M-maybe you have a date or something. Dara… she, um…” She gulps and looks to the phone on the wall; the one I never use. “She left a message today.”
“What?”
“I didn’t mean to listen to it, but when no one picked up, it went to voicemail.
She mentioned being sad that your last date didn’t work out, but that she really wants to talk to you.
She said she was on night shift tonight, but that she’d look for you at the hospital and hopefully catch you before you left. ”
“She did. She caught me.”
“Oh.” She drops her gaze, her hair falling forward to shield her from me. “Well, I’m glad she did. She sounds nice.”
Sighing, I place my fingers under her chin and tilt her head back until I can see her eyes.
“I’m not handing you over to my friends so I can have an evening with someone else.
I want to help you find your strength, because someday, eventually, you’ll grow tired of this setup.
Whether your memories come back or not, your past may find you.
I need to know you’re gonna be okay when that happens.
If you don’t want me at the gym because you feel weird about me watching, then I’ll make myself scarce.
I trust my friends to take care of you. If you do want me there, then that’s where I’ll be.
If you smack a Watkins twin in the face, I’ll high-five you on the way out. ”
“But…” She breathes out a shuddering breath. “Self-defense implies working with a partner, right? Like, lots of interaction with someone else?”
“Right. But I could get you a girl partner, easy peasy. It wouldn’t be a problem—”
“C-could you join the class? So I don’t have to…” She trails off. “So I don’t—”
Need to let anyone else touch me.
I gift her a smile, releasing her from the prison she’s walked herself into, then I bring my hand up and rub my jaw. “I’ll stay. I’ll even let you get one good shot in before I guard up. But only one. ‘Cos I’m sick of being punched in the face all the damn time.”
She trembles, her eyes shimmering with unshed emotion. “Y-you don’t mind, right? Because if you need a night off or whatever—”
“I don’t mind.” But I whip the list from her pocket and turn back to keep working on the garlic. “This is going in the trash, by the way.”
“Oliver!”
“I invited you here so you’d have a place to rest. Not to do manual labor and pay me for it.”
“I’m gonna keep making lists,” she grumbles. “On the next one, I’ll add paper, since you’re set on wasting so much of it.”