“Better get that before it burns,” I say, my voice much darker than I mean it to be.
I pull my wrist free of his touch and head for the oven, but I can feel the heat from his gaze on my back as I walk away.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jordan
It’s rare I get the house to myself anymore, not since Princess Alex moved in, but he’s out doing some errands. I told him he needs to take it easy and stop walking around so much, but he shops more than anyone I’ve ever seen. He does what he wants, despite saying he’ll listen to me. He’s like a damn toddler.
I was hoping to work on my truck today, but it’s been raining since last night, and I don’t have a garage.
Maggie is away on some girls’ weekend thing with her sister and mother. They do it every few months, like a cute little family. She has one of those, and it’s just another reason we shouldn’t be together. My family is non-existent, and I haven’t the faintest clue how to have a functional family because of it.
Her sister is happily married, and so are her parents. It’s what she’s looking for, too, but I can’t contribute to her family like that. I’ve met her parents a few times and her sister even less. Which is shitty considering they’re best friends.
I try to find things to do around the house, like I normally would on a weekend that I’m alone and it’s raining, but it seems Alex got to everything already. He cooks, cleans, and fixes things. I should appreciate it, but what the fuck am I supposed to do with myself now?
The front door opens, and I turn, ready to lay into him about doing so much. Not only for him, but for me, too. How the fuck am I supposed to stay sane with nothing to do? But when I see the look on his face, my words get lodged in my throat.
“What’s wrong?” I manage to say.
“Knee,” he grits out, limping toward the couch. I put my arm around his waist and take most of his weight, then get him to the couch. “I… fell.”
“You fucking fell?” I bark. “What the fuck, Alex? This is why I’ve been telling you to take it easy.”
“I know, Jordan!” he yells back. “I don’t need you throwing that in my face right now.”
“Right, okay. Sorry. When’s the last time you took ibuprofen?” I ask.
“When I woke up.” He toes off his shoes before running his hand over his knee.
He doesn’t have his brace on, and that’s another thing I’d normally bitch at him for, but it won’t do any good right now.
I head into the bedroom and grab the bottle of meds by the bed, some water from the kitchen, and bring it to him. After he takes it, he leans back against the couch.
“Here, let me help you,” I say, putting the pillows against the arm and helping him get his legs up on the couch. He hisses the entire time, moving as carefully as he can, but I can tell he’s in a lot of pain. This very well could have set him back. Maybe permanently.
I head to the kitchen to pull out an ice pack, wrap it in a dish cloth, and bring it to him.
“Thanks,” he mutters when he sees me putting it on his knee.
“Where did you fall?” I ask.
“Grocery store.”
“How?”
He huffs out a laugh. “I tripped on my own damn feet.”
Of fucking course he did.
I bite my tongue and don’t say a word.
“Could you grab the groceries from the car? The ice cream will melt.”
“Yeah, sure.” He hands me the keys from his jacket pocket and I head out to grab the tons of bags from his trunk. I bring them all in and start putting them away.
I know he’s in a lot of pain, because normally he’d be over here doing this. He wouldn’t want me putting things away in the wrong spot, even though it’s my damn house.
