No, I should have died yesterday.
How did I fall off the trail when I was as far from the edge as I could get? Twisted ankle or not it doesn’t make sense. And where the hell did Wesley go?
My mind is reeling with questions I can’t answer. For now, I push them to the side because well... bacon.
The smell of it has me throwing back my blanket and slowly easing out of bed. The boot on my right foot throws me off-balance, or maybe that’s my lack of food intake in the past twenty-four hours, or likely the headache, or all of it combined. Either way, the delicious smell of bacon pushes me forward.
Once I’m in the bathroom, I can breathe a little easier. All my things are here. Neatly placed near one of the double sinks are all my skin and hair care products, my makeup bag, body lotion, and my toothbrush and toothpaste. He’s given me an entire side of his double vanity, as though he had been saving the space for me. I told him what I needed, but he went above and beyond. His bedroom looks like I’ve moved in. Like he moved me in. All my favorite things are here in this house.
Including Owen.
My emotions tap dance through my system at the thought of him, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep my head. Because of course, I feel the way he does, but losing him in the end isn’t worth giving in.
My train of thought vanishes when I finally look at my reflection in the mirror.
Whoa.
My love life vanishes from my mind as I examine every scratch and blossoming bruise on my face. I brush my teeth and gently drag a brush through my hair, trying to feel human again. I’m still in the clothes I changed into at the hospital, but of course Owen left me fresh clothes on the bathroom counter. However, undressing would force me to do a full inventory of my damaged body. I’m too tired and hungry for that. The scrapescovering my legs are enough to tell me the rest won’t be pretty either. Luckily, I’m comfortable, so I stay in my sweatshirt and workout shorts.
I wobble across the room since I haven’t quite mastered my walking boot. Owen wheeled me out of the hospital, then carried me into the house and to his bed, where I promptly fell asleep, so this is my first time hobbling around on my own since getting the lovely accessory. When I open the door, Maui is waiting for me on the other side. She hops up, floundering around me with excitement, but her daddy’s training is paying off, because she doesn’t jump on me.
“Good morning, sweet girl.” I bend down to pet her and know immediately it was a bad idea. My entire body aches from the action and bending over makes me woozy. I lean on the doorframe for a beat to settle my stomach and let the dizziness wane.
“I can’t believe you waited for me when your daddy is in the kitchen cooking. That’s true dedication. I love you too, sweetie.”
I take a few deep breaths to steady myself, and when I get to the top of the steps, I pause. With my wonky head and new boot, I don’t feel steady enough to take the stairs on my own. So, I plop down on my butt and scoot step by step, with Maui by my side, all the way to the bottom. She thinks it’s a game, but it’s the sad reality of the state I’m in.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I’m grateful the baby gate is open leaving me one less thing to conquer. I wobble as I stand, and it pisses me off. I refuse to let this boot and my aching body get the best of me. I square my shoulders and try to find some sort of rhythm in my stride, letting my nose guide me to the heavenly scent of breakfast. Just as my steps finally find some sort of cadence the kitchen comes into view. A kitchen I helped Owen design five years ago.
It’s big and beautiful. All blues and grays, as is his aesthetic throughout the house. Stunning countertops complement a massive island of gray marble with a light blue and gray backsplash on the walls. The finishes are expensive. The red knobs on his stainless-steel stovetop are eye-catching. But the most captivating thing about the luxurious room is the man with his back to me.
His white T-shirt strains against his muscular back and biceps. He’s wearing black sweat shorts that show off strong, tan legs. The mess of his hair is a good indicator that there’s also a sexy scruff on his face that I can’t see but, funnily enough, it’s the sight of him barefoot with a hand towel over his shoulder as he cooks that has me all hot and bothered.
Fortunately, I’m strong-willed and my levelheadedness refuses to succumb to my feelings for the beautiful man placing bacon on a paper towel-covered plate, because God, do I want to give him all of me. I also want that bacon.
Maui bounds into her daddy, effectively ending my gawking.
He looks over his shoulder, spots me, and greets me with a breathtaking smile. “Morning, sunshine.”
“Morning.” I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers like an idiot.
“Take a seat. Breakfast is almost done.”
I struggle onto one of the kitchen stools and make myself comfortable. He already has two plates and cutlery out and waiting.
“You’ve been busy.”
Ignoring my statement, he asks, “How’s your head?”
“It hurts, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
He picks up a pill bottle next to the sink and grabs a glass. He delivers both to me and fills the glass with orange juice. “The doc said ibuprofen is fine to take. I know it’s not that strong, but it’s something.”
“Thanks.”
He winks and resumes his task at the stove.
His stupid wink has my heartrate beating like a hummingbird's wings. Owen is a caretaker by nature. He cares for his friends, his family, his community... but I’m not used to it mixed up with this domestic side of him.
