“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he assures tenderly. “I justwant you to focus on yourself for once. Go back to sleep, and work on coming back to me as the bright, positive, beautiful girl I can’t stop thinking about.”
A knock sounds on my door around 6 p.m. After sleeping for four hours straight, I felt more energized, despite my sore throat and the receding migraine. The dull pain that had taken over me when Mom called vanished as I got the rest my body had been begging for. So, I cleaned my little cabin to keep myself busy.
Diego storms inside as soon as I open the door, holding a dish covered with aluminum foil.
“Mom made some enchiladas last night and I brought you the leftovers,” he says in greeting.
Closing the door, I watch as he deposits the plate on the kitchen counter before turning to me, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Did you clean around here?”
“Yes.” I shrug.
“Alara,” he mutters on a sigh. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
I roll my eyes and take his coat from him and hang it in the closet. “I have a migraine and an itchy throat. I’m not on my deathbed.”
He shakes his head. “But you must be hurting.”
I chuckle and wrap my arms around his waist as he pulls me in. I instantly feel better, as if the sound of his heartbeat is a melody that can soothe everything. “You’re such a man.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His lips brush over my forehead. “You’re kind of burning up.”
“I am? I’m a bit cold, though.”
“Explains why it feels like a fucking sauna in here.” The next breath, he carries me bridal style to the couch, ignoring my yelps of protest. Dropping me on the cushion before putting two blankets over me, he tucks me in until there’s nothing leftuncovered except for my face. He brushes my hair away from my forehead and leans in to gently kiss it. “Don’t move.”
“I was going to shower,” I retort, listening as he moves around the kitchen and turns on the oven.
“Okay.”
I know it’s a natural instinct for him to take care of others, because that’s who he is – a caretaker, a caregiver – but I’ve made a promise to myself to take care ofhim.Though I have to admit it feels nice to receive this particular kind of attention.
I don’t realize he has disappeared until he comes back and scoops me up again, and walks to the bathroom.
I try to read his expression to see if there are any hints of discomfort. “Put me down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
He frowns. “If that was you calling yourself heavy, you should know I lift double your weight at the gym. Well, when I could still go, that is.”
“So, what do you want me to say? Congratulations? It’ll only inflate your ego.”
A mirthless laugh escapes him. “Sick or not, you’re still a brat.”
I tighten my grip around him and hide my foolish smile when he sets me down on the bathroom counter. The bath is running, the scent of lavender permeating the small room. A set of satin pajamas is neatly folded on top of the cabinet, along with a thick pair of fuzzy socks and some underwear.
“What are you doing, Diego?”
“Taking care of what’s mine.”
He says it with such reverence, such certainty, that it makes my heart stall. He can’t say shit like that – it makes me want to bereallyhis.
He strokes my cheek with his knuckles as I gaze up at him with a lazy smile. I part my legs open and welcome him inbetween, and when he steps forward, he cradles my jaw and checks my face, then my body, like he’s looking for any injury.
He swallows, the worry in his eyes evident. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
I lean into his touch. “It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”
A small sigh flies through his nose. “I know. My hardworking girl. Can I take off your clothes?”
