“This isn’t about me or Leo. You need to take better care of yourself foryou.It’s dangerous, Flo. And… fucking scary.”
“I’m sorry.” I sit up slowly, backing myself against the headboard. I’m no longer overwhelmingly dizzy. Surveying the surrounding area, I say, “Wow, you really made a mess of my kitchen.”
Evan lets out a humoured puff of air. “Because I thought you were going to die.” He looks at me, completely serious. “Do I need to send you a reminder to eat every day so you don’t pass out alone without my knowledge? And I’m not kidding. I’ll do it, Flo.”
“No, no, you don’t need to do that.” There’s no hesitation in my voice. “I don’t usually get so wrapped up in things. I’ve always been good at remembering to eat, but… my niece’s birthday is coming up, and I always make her clothes as a gift. I’m running behind, and it’s worrying me, so I just wasn’t really thinking. I’ll make sure I eat enough from now on.”
Evan turns his head towards the vibrant kids' clothes on the table. “Can I see them?”
“What?”
“The clothes. Can you show me them?”
“Sure.” Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I pad over to the table slowly, ensuring I don't push past my limit. Evan’s gaze is stuck to me like glue, leaning forwardas if he’s ready to leap in case I fall. I snatch up my creations in my hands and lay them over the bed.
His gaze sweeps over them, focusing on each piece individually, fingers dusting over the soft fabric.
A white skirt that’s almost finished.
A pale yellow top with a rainbow design and pink frilly sleeves.
A pair of blue linen shorts, a reversible white and pink belt wrapped around the waist, and a beaded chain hanging from it.
“How long have you been working on these?”
I shrug, but the action feels like I’m lifting a fifty-pound dumbbell. “A couple of weeks. Since I’ve been here.”
“Flo, you’re really talented.”
My eyes flick upwards in a roll. “Yeah, okay.”
“No, I’m serious. I don’t know anyone who could make anything remotely like these. My mom’s tried her hand at knitting and sewing, and as much as I love the woman, frankly, she’s useless at it.”
My lips tug in a smile. “Well, if she ever comes to visit, I’ll give her a lesson.”
Evan blinks, as if my light-hearted comment just landed a little heavier than intended, and his expression shifts. “She’d like that.” He then begins cleaning the kitchen, clearing his throat. “You need something solid to eat. What do you want?”
I take note of the eye bags sitting heavy under his eyes. “You look tired, Evan. I can do it.”
“What do you want, Florence? An answer, please.”
Seems like I’m not getting away with this one.
“Some eggs and toast will do, thank you.” My cheeks flame. I’ve always been an independent person, and accepting support isn’t something I’m used to doing. I enjoy being the giver. The one who acts as the crutch, not the one who needs it. But hey, if accepting Evan’s help means I’ll get a free plate of toast and eggs, then why not? I mean, I'm not exactly in a state to be fussy right now.
Evan gets to work, cracking some eggs into a sizzling pan and testing the toaster. I debate grabbing the broom to sweep up the old toast crumbs he’s just flung onto the floor by smacking the metal, but I have a feeling I’ll get a glare and an order to sit back down, so for tonight, I’ll let Evan do what he likes—taking care of people.
“And… yes, I am tired.” His back muscles tense with each movement he makes, and I stare. Now that I no longer have blurry vision, I can focus on how his tanned and smooth skin stretches over each muscle, solid and built from years out on the playing field.
“The fifty cups of coffee you drink don’t help?” I shuffle to sit on the edge of the bed.
“To some degree. I’m sure one day all the caffeine will catch up to me and I’ll have a freak heart attack on the field.” He releases a dry chuckle, but I shoot him a look.
“Don’t talk that into existence, Evan. Leo needs you.”
He’s quiet for a moment before muttering, “I know. I just can’t seem to function without it. I don’t get much sleep.”
“Because of the news reports?”
