Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,91
said, his voice gruff. He walked forward slowly, his gaze fastened to mine the entire time. “But I’ll take it. Gotta start somewhere, right?”
I patted the space next to me. “Sit.”
His brows went up, but he complied, easing down slowly. He planted a hand behind himself, leaned closer. “Comfortable?”
I shrugged and immediately regretted it. “As comfortable as I’ll be.”
“My assistant is out getting your medication. I gave him your license so he could pick it up. It’s a controlled substance.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay.”
“You just . . .” I let out a sigh. Some habits died hard. I knew that look on his face, knew something had spooked him to make him clam up this way. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Twelve years ago I would have thrown myself at him, tackled him, made him tell me. Now . . . I didn’t know what we were to each other, and I didn’t know how to proceed.
“Do you mind if Sir Duke comes here?”
“Of course not. Poor thing. He’s been alone all day.”
“He’ll be okay.” He paused, and took in a deep breath. “Listen, I’m staying here with you.”
I reared back. “Wait, what?”
“You don’t have any food here. You need someone to help you get around. I was there for discharge. I know how to change your dressings, know what to look for in case you get an infection. And I can’t go home knowing you’re here alone. So. You’re stuck with me.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Completely serious. Sir Duke and I will stay out of your hair. You won’t even know we’re here.”
“But you—”
“I have a very capable team and an assistant that will bring us anything we need. And,” he fixed me with a look so absolute, so unflinching, I blinked. “I’m not leaving.”
I stared, at a loss for words.
“Food’s on the way,” he continued, as if the air around us hadn’t quivered from him throwing down that gauntlet. “So are your meds. I’ll bring them in as soon as they get here. That shot wearing off yet? You in pain?”
“No,” I lied. “I’m just going to get some shut-eye.”
I needed a break. A reprieve.
“Alright. You want me to help you get comfortable before I step out?” His gaze flicked over me, and all the pillows I’d tucked haphazardly around my back and under my foot.
“I’m alright. You go ahead. Get as . . . comfortable as you can, I guess.”
He nodded, slowly. “I won’t be far. Just call me if you need me.”
He left, pulling the door almost closed.
I stared at the door, brain buzzing.
What the hell had just happened?
Sleep proved elusive, even with the blinds closed and the room dark. My television garbled nonsense, keeping itself company.
My foot screamed the tale of dark roast lava on caramel skin.
“Can’t sleep?”
I flinched, startled to see Nick suddenly standing in the doorway. He’d changed to a wrinkled T-shirt and gray sweats and his feet were bare. A plastic bag bearing the local pharmacy’s logo dangled from one hand and he held a bottled water in the other.
“I don’t think so.”
He sat on the corner of the bed, frowning. “You’re in pain. Why didn’t you call for me?”
“I’m alright.”
He went still. “Zora. I need you to be honest with me. It’s important. Are you in pain?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “And I can’t sleep. I can’t get comfortable.”
He quickly administered the pills, dropping them in my hand as if I was a child, standing and watching as I downed it with water.
The tension around his eyes made me suspect he was weighing his next words, so I wasn’t surprised when he said, “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I croaked.
He pushed off the bed and picked up the remote on my bedside table. “May I?”
I nodded and he switched off the television.
“Move over.”
He was already helping even as he made the order, supporting my back as he removed the pillows behind me. “Hold this to your front and ease over.”
I inched to the middle of the bed and rolled over on my stomach to settle atop the proffered pillow. The mattress shifted as Nick’s weight settled on the bed, his body following closely behind me. The weight of his hand settled gently on my back, its length spanning the valley of my shoulder blades to the tender apex of my spine. I moaned as his fingertips traced the contours of my shoulders, returning to tentatively knead the painfully tightened muscles.
“Am I hurting you?” I strained to hear his murmur.