She hesitates, then hands them over, and I manage to unlock the door while still holding her. A few more steps, and I’m through the adjoining suite and into her bedroom, setting her gently on the bed, like she’s precious cargo.
Kneeling in front of her, I grip one boot in my hand and start to unzip it when she reaches out, stopping me. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you.”
“But?”
“Tatum . . .” I glance up at her in silent permission, and when she removes her hand and nods, I take it as a win.
One by one, I ease the boots off her feet, and she lets out a low groan. When I peel away the socks, the sight makes me suck ina breath. “Dammit, Tate.” Blisters bloom angry and raw by her toes. “You’ve got at least half a dozen of these. Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you come back here sooner?”
She bites her lip, her gaze darting anywhere but at me. “I wanted to, but . . .” She trails off with a little shrug, and it’s not hard to hear what she isn’t saying.
Fucking Ethan.
My jaw clenches so tight it pops. “Some of these have opened. They need ointment and bandages,” I say, rising to my feet.
I head to her bathroom, knowing exactly where she keeps her first-aid kit—top drawer, left side.
Some things never change.
I grab it along with a washcloth that I dampen with warm water, glad to see when I return that she’s still sitting exactly where I left her, looking small and vulnerable in my oversized hoodie.
“This might hurt a little,” I warn as I kneel in front of her again, gently cleaning the broken blisters.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers after a moment.
“For what?
“For pushing you away and choosing him. For being really,reallystupid.”
“Hey.” I glance up and cup her cheek with my hand, hating the look of defeat in her eyes. “You’re not stupid.” I shake my head, my tone firm as I return my attention to her feet where I apply antibiotic ointment.
“That’s debatable,” she mutters under her breath. Then after a minute, she adds, “I broke up with him.”
My hands freeze, unsure of whether I heard her right, and it’s a full minute before I meet her eyes, searching for the truth in her words.
When I find it, my heart kicks.
I swallow, afraid to hope. “You did?”
She nods with a whispered, “Yes.”
“Are you . . . are you okay?” I ask, searching her expression and wondering if the relief I hear in her voice is real, or if she’s just putting on a brave face.
Tatum scoffs and shakes her head. “I don’t deserve you. Just weeks ago, I cut you from my life, and when I finally broke up with the man who’s partly to blame, the first thing out of your mouth is to ask whether or notI’mokay?”
I frown. “What else would I say?”
“I don’t know . . .I told you so?”
Rising to my feet, I throw the bandage wrappers in the trash, then return to her side where I sink down, taking her hand in mine. “There’s nothing satisfying in telling someone you loveI told you so. At least, not when they’re hurting.”
She drops her chin to her chest, looking so sad and small, my body aches. I want to hold her, tell her how much I care and finally make her mine, but this isn’t about me. This is about her. She just broke up with her boyfriend, which means she needs to heal, and I can wait?my feelings can wait.
“You’re just too perfect,” shemumbles.
Perfect for you.
