I shook my head. “No, well…probably yes. But I haven’t eaten, and I don’t really want to take one right now.”
He frowned, then winced. That had to suck. Those bruises would get worse before they got better.
“Ice.” He opened his mouth, but I shook my head and pointed at him. “Ice. You’re hurting, and those are swelling.”
“Stay here?” The question melted me. “I want… I like talking to you like this.”
“I promise. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
The heartbreaking smile on his face had me curling my toes under the blanket. With care, he pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. It was a blink and you miss it kiss, and then he sat up with a hell of a lot more ease than I had. “I’m holding you to that.”
He glanced back at me before he disappeared up the hall. A little thrill went through me. The shift between us had become tangible. It was different from before, deeper somehow. I couldn’t really put my finger on it. He wasn’t gone long, but he’d made a stop in the bathroom on his way to the kitchen. He came back with his own glass of water, a couple of sodas, and a package of Pop-Tarts.
I was surprised. I didn’t think I had any left.
“I hid these,” he told me as he settled back on the bed, and I squirmed to sit up next to him. “Tucked them up with the tea. Figured the guys would never look there.”
I snickered. Because, he wasn’t wrong. He popped open the sodas and offered me one. I took a sip and set it on the nightstand next to my water before facing him again. He got the foil open and passed one of the strawberry frosted ones to me, and I took a bite, grinning at him as he took his own. When I nodded to the ice pack, he didn’t quite roll his eyes, but he did lift it up to his face, and I nodded.
“Better.”
“Okay, now that we’re done fussing over my face, can we talk?”
“I thought we were talking,” I teased before taking another bite.
He snorted. “Angel…”
“I’m right here.”
“Yes, you are.”
I sighed. All things aside—beatings, nightmares, Mitch, the cops, therapy—I was feeling pretty good right now. “You said you’d do anything for me.” I enunciated each word carefully. We’d been talking before everything went to hell, he agreed to the rules, to a night of dancing and even to karaoke—though admittedly, Ian singing was no hardship for either of us.
“I did. I know I have a lot of ground to make up with you, but I meant it when I said I’m in. I want to go out with you, buy you flowers, spend time with you, whether it’s in the studio doing vocal work or on the bike when you’re healed up. I want you.”
Heat swept through me.
“When I told you I’d do anything for you, you were about to say something when that asshole showed up.”
I had.
He stared at me intently. “Tell me what you were going to say?”
“It seems kind of awkward now.” I stuffed another bite of Pop-Tart in my mouth to buy myself some time. During his confession, I’d wanted to believe him so badly. But I was scared. I hated that feeling of uncertainty and fear that it would all just blow up again. It really fucking hurt the first time, and it had been so damn hard to try and stay friends.
I really didn’t want to lose him.
“Nothing you say to me is going to be that awkward, I promise.”
I snorted. Then, you know what, fuck it. “I believe you, but the thing is…you said everything you’ve written lately has been inspired by me.”
He nodded, watching me closely. Unlike me, he wasn’t eating his food, he wasn’t doing anything—just studying me. “It has been.”
“You gave me that song.”
“I did.”
I swallowed, ‘cause this was the awkward part and it really sucked that I had to tell him this. “I’ve been too chicken to listen to it.”
“Okay.”
That was it. Just okay? I focused on him again. “You’re not mad?”
“C’mon, Angel. I recorded that for you as a gift…and maybe a bit like a personal plea. Would I have preferred you listen to it? Sure, but…you’re listening to me now.”
He shifted and put his Pop-Tart away and got another drink, and I took a bite as I