Chapter 22 #2
“They did,” I say, before taking a bite of nearly burnt bacon. It crumbles in my mouth, eliciting another hum.
His chest lifts with a chuckle. He moves some dishes to the sink before taking the seat next to mine.
“I would have brought this to you, you know?”
“As nice as breakfast in bed sounds, I needed to move. And I need to figure out how to walk in this stupid boot.”
“I’ve been there. It’s strange at first, but once you figure it out, you’ll wonder why it seemed so difficult at the start. At least that’s how it was for me when I ruptured my Achilles.”
“I hope that moment comes sooner rather than later.”
“Well, you won’t be doing much walking the next few days. You need to rest. Doctor's orders.”
“Good thing you go back to work tomorrow then. I won’t have a babysitter keeping me down.”
“I took the week off.”
Choking on my hash browns, I take a sip of my juice to clear my airway. “You what?”
He chuckles under his breath.
“Have you lost comprehension of the English language? I know the hit to your head was hard, but this is a strange side-effect.”
“Shut up. Why did you take the week off?”
“To take care of you.”
“You didn’t need to do that. You can take me home after breakfast. I’m happy to get out of your hair. But not before I eat this bacon.”
“It’s not too burnt?”
“It’s perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”
He rolls his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”
This is his usual comment when I say something he deems obvious or below my intellect.
“Seriously, I don’t want to be a burden. I’m happy to go home, and I promise to rest.”
He swivels his chair until he’s facing me, then turns mine so we’re eye to eye and knee to knee. “You are never a burden.”
There’s no humor in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Nothing but sincerity. He means what he says. Of this, I have no doubt.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“You...” he gently flicks my nose with his forefinger. “... are staying here until you’re cleared by the doctor. Maui and I will be at your beck and call. If you need something, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Eat.”
“Yes, sir.”
We both turn our focus back to our plates and dig in.
When I’m done, I attempt to pull my uninjured leg up to hug to my chest, but it hurts too much. Every muscle in my body hurts. “Can you remind me what the doctor said again? Parts of yesterday are fuzzy.”
He turns in his chair to face me again, taking my hands in his. “He said you’re lucky to be alive.”
I nod.
“You may not have noticed, but you’re covered head to toe in cuts and bruises.
You have a serious concussion and a sizable lump on the back of your head.
We need to monitor your headaches and watch for other signs like dizziness and vomiting.
You cracked a rib and tore the tendons from your ankle bone, but you miraculously don’t need surgery.
Somehow, you didn’t even need a single stitch.
If you stay off your feet and wear your boot like you’re supposed to, you should be good in a few weeks. ”
“But I don’t need to stay here that long, do I?”
Releasing my hands, he takes our plates to the sink, keeping his back to me. “You’ll stay as long as you need to stay, Daisy.” His voice is terse.
“That came out wrong.”
He turns on the faucet and starts rinsing dishes.
I carry my glass to the sink as an excuse to be near him. I rub my hand across his back. “You have work and the team. You don’t need a charity case on top of everything else. A burden is the last thing you need.”
His head hangs between his shoulders, his grip on the plate so intense his knuckles turn white. The water runs over the dish, but he makes no move to put it in the dishwasher. If I’m not mistaken, he’s gathering himself to find a calm I’m clearly not bringing him.
When he finally speaks, he doesn’t face me, so I stare at his profile. His straight nose, square jaw, and corded neck. He’s so pretty.
“You are not a burden, and I will take as much time off to help you heal as it takes. I will not repeat myself again. So, hear my words and take them in... You. Are. Not. A. Burden.”
Oh, this man.
I lean into his side, wrapping one arm around his waist. With my free hand, I turn off the water, guiding his hand with the plate into the sink.
He finally releases the dish and wraps me up in his embrace. I bury my sore face in his chest. “Thank you.”
“I’m always here for you.”
“I know.”
“Please don’t push me away. Not right now.”
“I won’t. If you want to be my beck and call boy, your wish is my command.”
“Good.”
We stay wrapped up in each other for several minutes. Swaying to a song our bodies sing whenever they’re this close.
“As much as I hate to let go of you, I need to take a shower. I feel gross.”
“Bath.”
“What?”
“You can’t stand on your own in the shower. You can take your boot off only for your bath. I’ll help.”
“I have to wash my hair, and that is such a pain in the tub.”
“I got you, Clover.”
“You’re going to wash my hair?”
He wags his brows, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No–”
Before I finish my sentence, he scoops me up into his arms. Maui runs in circles around us as he leaves the dishes behind and carries me upstairs to his bathroom.
Owen sets me on the counter, then steps away to start the bathwater in the big clawfoot tub I helped him pick out during his bathroom renovation.
He pours a hefty amount of Epsom salts under the running water, followed by body wash.
Smiling, he says, “I don’t have any bubble bath. This will have to do.”
“Works for me.”
As the tub fills, he saunters toward me, not stopping until he wedges himself between my legs. “Sweetheart, this is gonna hurt. I’m sure all those cuts are gonna sting like hell, but you've got this. The Epsom salts should help your sore muscles, though.”
He’s so close. My instinct is to eliminate the space between us and kiss him. Instead, I nod.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes.” The words come out, but he doesn’t move, both of us content to drown in the eyes of the other.
I can see the devotion in his gaze and my heart aches for him.
He’s the last person I would ever want to hurt, yet I know that’s what I’m doing to him every time we’re together.
Hurting him, because I refuse to return his feelings.
Ending our quiet moment, he gently rests his forehead against mine. “Come on, baby. Let me help you.” Owen reaches for the hem of my hoodie but stops himself. “If this is too much or you’re uncomfortable, please tell me.”
Needing to reassure him, I cup his cheek. “Thank you. I will.”
Clearing his throat and taking a step back, he helps me slip off the counter, then lifts my arms and gently pulls my sweatshirt over my head.
He doesn’t drop it haphazardly to the floor.
Instead, he folds it neatly, setting it on the counter looking anywhere other than my naked torso.
Next, he pulls down my loose shorts. I brace my hands on his shoulders to keep my balance while he maneuvers them over my boot.
He’s on his knees looking up at me as though at my mercy when he speaks again. “You doin’ okay?”
His fingers shake against my hips where he’s resting his hands.
“Owen, I’m fine. Are you okay?”
This isn’t the first time I’ve taken my clothes off in front of him, but it’s different.
More intimate, in a way. I wish I could tell him there isn’t anyone else I would want to help me right now, because that truth is significant.
My heart and soul know what it means, but I can’t bring myself to tell him.
He hooks his fingers in the sides of my panties, but instead of pulling them down, he leans his forehead against my stomach. “It’s hard to see you bruised like this.”
I know I’m injured but feeling his breath skate across my skin, so close to the part of me that is always yearning for more when he’s this near distracts me from taking in what he said.
“I swear to God, Daisy. If I ever...”
Abruptly, he pulls back and removes the last piece of fabric from my body, leaving me bare before him. If he ever what?
“Don’t move.” He steps away to check the water temperature before gathering my body soap, shampoo, and conditioner from the counter.
As I turn to watch him my reflection in the full-length mirror shows me what has him so shaken. There are bumps and bruises covering nearly every inch of my body.
Holy shit. I really did a number on myself.
I adjust my stance to look at my back and find it’s worse than I could have imagined. My hands wrap around my middle, fear taking hold for some unknown reason. I tremble as knots twist in my stomach while continuing to come to terms with what is staring back at me in the mirror.
Fixated on the damage done to my body, I startle when he wraps his arms around me. My body sags in relief, knowing I’m safe with Owen. Although I’m clueless about where this irrational fear is coming from.
“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He kisses the top of my head, locking eyes with me in the mirror. “Come on. The water’s ready.”
Wiping away the tears racing down my cheek, I follow his lead.
Before I get in the tub, he takes a knee and removes my boot.
The air feels good against my skin, but I’m surprised how difficult it is to get in the tub without putting pressure on my foot.
Even worse is submerging my body into the Epsom salts and hot water.
My scratches sting, and I hiss as my bum finally hits the bottom of the porcelain.
The clawfoot tub is luxurious, but it’s also six feet long, which means I’m too short to touch the other end.
I know this from experience. The night of Winter Fest, we shared a bottle of wine while soaking in this tub.
I’m too sore to brace myself against the sides to keep from drowning.
So, Owen strips down and slips in behind me, his body preventing mine from sliding comlpetley under the water.