My cheeks instantly flushed with embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, why?”
“You seemed a little zoned out, and you’re kind of pale.”
“Am I?” I asked, my heart starting to race, not from panic, but from realization. Shit. Whenwasthe last time I ate? I pulled out my phone and opened my Dexcom app, already bracing myself. Sure enough, my blood sugar was a lot lower than I’d like to see.
Fuck.
I should’ve known better. My pump had been delivering insulin, and without any food intake, it was doing exactly what it was supposed to, just at my body’s expense. Of course I forgot to suspend it.
Taking a shaky breath, I sat down on the nearest seat while Garrett squatted in front of me. “What is it?”
“Garrett, get away from her,” Connor barked, immediately catching my attention. He stepped between Garrett and me, pushing him aside before bending down to meet my eyes. His expression was unreadable, like always, and I knew he was going to be annoyed that I distracted his worker, but then there was a flash of concern in his eyes that I hadn’t seen since the night of the bar. “What’s wrong?”
I felt dizzy, a side effect of my blood sugar dropping. I blinked a couple of times, trying to steady myself. “My blood sugar,” I told him, my voice a little shakier than I intended.
“What?” His voice was laced with confusion.
“I’m diabetic,” I explained.
“You are?” His eyes widened, his hand inadvertently brushing against my thigh as he instinctively moved closer. The touch was light but sent an unexpected jolt through me. Healmost looked flustered, his eyes darting to mine as if he were reassessing everything about me. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I had no idea.”
I nodded, my pulse still racing, not entirely from the drop in my blood sugar, but from the sudden proximity of Connor. We’ve never been this close before, and the heat of his body was making me feel things I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “I have a couple of things in my bag. Can you grab it for me?” I asked.
Without another word, he was up and moving toward my bag. He dumped everything out with no hesitation. A few protein bars, a stash of candy, and a small salad that was meant for my lunch spilled out in a heap. He grabbed everything and shoved it toward me. “Here,” he said, not even seeming to notice how his hand lingered slightly too long on my wrist when he handed me the protein bar.
I reached for it with unsteady hands, but before I could open it, Connor snatched it from me, tore it open, and held it up to my mouth. His eyes searched mine for any sign of protest, almost as if he was looking for me to challenge him. “Small bites,” he instructed.
I nodded, taking a couple of small bites, my heart racing in my chest, not from the sugar this time, but from this man feeding me. As I chewed, he opened a water bottle and helped me take a sip, his hand steadying mine when it trembled. If my head wasn’t so clouded by dizziness, I might have thought about how good this felt. How goodhefelt, taking care of me in a way that made everything inside me tingle.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice still a little shaky but already sounding better.
“No problem,” he muttered, but his tone was distant, detached. Despite the fact that he was physically closer than ever, it seemed as though he was already thinking of his next move and how to get away from me.
I took the water bottle from his hand, my fingers brushing against his. My mind screamed at me to not think about the rejection that would come with him. “I’m fine. You can go back to work now.”
“Like hell I will,” he shot back instantly, his voice firm. He crossed his arms, standing over me with an expression that was now more stubborn than concerned. “I’m not leaving you alone after that.”
I frowned. “Why not? I’m fine. I told you I have everything under control. You don’t need to babysit me.”
“Because you could have passed out!” His voice rose a little. “You should have told me.”
“I don’t go around telling people I’m diabetic,” I snapped, a little sharper than I meant. “I keep it in check. It’s fine. Really.”
“Is it, though?” His gaze was piercing, and I could see just a hint of worry creeping into his eyes again. “Because last I checked, you were about to hit the floor.”
I bit my lip, trying not to look at him too hard, but his words were making me feel exposed in a way I hated. “I forgot to eat,” I shrugged. “Got sidetracked, but it doesn’t happen often.”
“You can’t forget to eat,” he insisted, his voice quieter now. “You’re not just some-” He stopped himself, clearly frustrated.
“Mr. Easton, I’m fine,” I huffed, feeling irritated at the whole situation now. “You don’t have to pretend like you care. We’re just coworkers.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Almost like he didn’t know what to say. “Guess so, huh?”
“You haven’t even given me the time of day in all the weeks we’ve been working together. Now all of a sudden you want to take care of me?” It was bitchy of me, and maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but fuck. He drives me crazy. One minute he’s punching someone in the face for me, and the next he pretends like he doesn’t know who I am.
