As soon as the door closed, Brantley looked up from the coloring book Shane had told me to grab after she finished hurling all over my shoes earlier. I was grateful that she’d been of sound mind enough to suggest it, because I’m not sure how I would have handled a sick Shane and my five-year-old son at the same time. One was perpetually grumpy and the other had limitless energy. “Are we goin’ home now?”
“Yeah, bud. We’re heading out. Get all your stuff together and put it in the bag, yeah?”
He went about doing as I’d asked while I turned to Shane, placing my hand on her thigh to keep her from climbing off the examination table. “Just wait here for a second. I’m gonna handle getting you signed out, then I’ll come back and help you to the truck.”
She gave me a hesitant nod. “Okay. If you’ll hand me my purse I’ll grab my wallet. I think I might have enough cash to cover—”
My fingers on her leg squeezed, silencing her. “I’ve got it taken care of.”
“Jensen, you can’t—”
“I’ve got it taken care of,” I repeated firmly. She curled her lips between her teeth, giving in, but I could see the struggle in her eyes. She never could stand feeling like a burden, even if the person helping her didn’t feel that way at all.
“I owe you this,” I said quietly so Brantley wouldn’t overhear. “I owe you this and so much more, sunshine. But things are about to change for you.”
“What do you mean? Does this have something to do with what you said the other night?”
“Yes, but we’ll get into it when you’re feeling better. Just know that it’s a good change, okay?”
That time her nod wasn’t hesitant at all.
I headed out of the room and took care of the bill, then I loaded the only family that had ever truly mattered into my truck and drove us back to Shane’s house.
Shane
“What’s the thumb-motor say?”
My son’s whisper-yell worked to pull me out of a restless sleep, and I slowly turned my head to find him and Jensen standing beside the bed.
“It’s back down to normal, bud. See?” Jensen held out the digital forehead thermometer I’d gotten the last time Brantley was sick, showing him the numbers on the display. “Ninety-eight point seven. That means her fever broke.”
Brantley looked up at his dad with wide, curious eyes. “That’s good, right? It means her brain won’t melt.”
“That’s exactly what it means,” he replied with a chuckle. “No melted brain.”
They both whipped their heads in my direction when I laughed.
Jensen hit me with that cocky smirk I’d fallen in love with when I was sixteen years old, and in my weakened state, I felt myself melting just a little at the sight of it. “Hey, you’re awake.”
“Hey, Mommy!” Brantley jumped up on the bed, shoving his knee right in the middle of my solar plexus as he scrambled to climb over me, but the pain was all but forgotten when he flopped to my other side and snuggled against me. “Your fever is broken. That means your brain won’t melt,” he announced seriously.
“Whew. That’s good.” I looped my arms around his little body and gave him a big hug. My arms still felt a little stiff, and there was still a dull throb behind my eyes, but for the most part I was feeling a lot better. “If I had a melted brain I probably wouldn’t remember how to make that tater tot casserole you like so much.”
His eyes bugged out comically. “That woulda been bad.”
I felt the mattress depress on my other side and looked over at Jensen as he sat on the edge, studying my face as though all the answers to an upcoming test he had to take were written on it. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better, actually. I’m surprised how fast that medicine worked.” I tried looking at my alarm clock on the bedside table, but it was blocked by Jensen’s big body. “What time is it anyway?”
“Nine.” I glanced at my bedroom window. That didn’t make sense. The sun was out. If I slept until nine, it should already be dark outside. “On Monday morning,” he finished.
My head whipped back around in shock as I screeched, “I slept for nearly twenty hours?”
“Obviously you needed it. You didn’t move once. I actually came in here a couple times last night and held a mirror under your nose to check.”
“Wait . . . You-you stayed the night?” For some insane reason, my gaze shot across to the other side of the bed, looking for an indentation in the pillow that rested there.
“Slept on the couch,” Jensen said with humor in his voice. “I didn’t want you to be alone while you were feelin’ so bad. And I wanted to be around in case Brant needed anything during the night.”
My lips parted as I let out a soft exhale. He’d broken my heart in the very worst way, but as I looked up at him now, I couldn’t find any of the anger I’d been harboring inside me so long. The anger that had fueled me. I’d carried it around with me every single day for years, but as I searched for it now, I couldn’t find it.
“You stayed all day and night?”
He read the softness on my face and the wonder in my voice just as easily as he would have back when we were together and he could tell my every emotion with a simple look. “No way I was leaving you in the state you were in yesterday, honey. I told you, I’m here now. I’m gonna do my part.”
We sat there silently for what felt like an eternity, just staring at each other as electricity crackled in the air between us. That shield I used to protect myself, that wall I’d reinforced with steel and barbed wire, took a direct hit. And as amazing as it was to admit, I didn’t really care. Jensen Rose had once dug his way past my defenses without me even noticing, and it seemed he’d done it again.
“Dad ordered pizza for dinner, then we made root beer floats!” Brantley declared, breaking the heady moment we were just in.
My expression changed, my eyes and mouth flattened in a look that he shrugged off like it was nothing.
“So . . . junk on top of more junk?”
“It’s the best I could do. You remember what I used to be like in the kitchen. I can assure you, it hasn’t gotten any better over the years. Would you really have wanted me take the risk of feeding our son something I made?”
I remembered back to our time together and what a godawful cook he’d been and cringed. “Good point. Okay, in that case, I guess I should get up and get a start on breakfast.” I gave my boy a playful pat. “Hop up, bud. You feel like French toast?”
“Actually, I already took care of it.” Jensen laughed when I turned to him with fright carved into my features. “Relax, I didn’t make it. Brant and I went and picked up breakfast tacos from Hacienda. Yours is in the kitchen.” My mouth began to water. Hacienda made the best breakfast tacos in the universe. With my strapped budget, I hadn’t eaten there in forever, but now that he’d mentioned it, I started imagining that I could actually smell the eggs and sausage and crispy bacon wafting through the house. “Also made a pot of coffee. You’re allowed to get up just long enough to eat and shower—if you have the energy—then it’s back to bed for the rest of the day. You might be feeling better, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”
“Jensen, I don’t have the luxury of lying in bed all day. Brant has a Mother’s Day Out class this morning that he’s not gonna want to miss, then I have a pile of laundry waiting to be done, and I have to clean pretty much everything in the house to make sure I get rid of all the flu germs. Then I have to pick Brant up from class. There’s a thousand things I have to do today.”
He didn’t address anything I’d just said. Instead, he looked across me to our son and said, “Hey, bud. Why don’t you go get dressed and brush your teeth while I talk to your momma, yeah?”
“Okay, Dad.” He hopped off the bed and raced out of the room, his little socked feet sliding on the laminate floors, sending him crashing into a wall in the hallway.
I sat there calmly and waited while Jensen grunted, “Jesus Christ,” and shot to his
feet.
A second later Brantley shouted, “I’m okay!” before taking off again.
“Happens all the time,” I told Jensen. “You get used to it. Kid’s got a hard head. A little drywall won’t hurt him, but I do try to make sure he doesn’t wear socks in the house very often.”
For a second he looked at me like I’d lost my mind before sitting beside me once again. He began to tick off a list like it was something we’d done every day for years. “Okay, so here’s the deal for today. I already talked to Caroline and got everything worked out. I’m gonna drop Brant at that Mom’s Chance to Day Drink thing or whatever on my way to work—”
“Mother’s Day Out,” I corrected with a giggle.
He shot me a wink that made my belly flutter. “That too. When he gets out at one, I’ll pick him up and take him to grab some lunch. If it’s cool with you, after that I thought I might take him to the office with me. Your aunt put in a call to your girls, so Poppy and Farah said they’d be coming by around three to sanitize your place and do whatever else it is you need done around here. Caroline will swing by around noon to check on you and bring you some lunch. I’ll grab something for dinner when I bring Brant back home this evening. All you’re responsible for doing today is laying your ass in this bed and resting. That’s it.”
He’d said so much I was finding it hard to wrap my head around all of it, so I latched onto the first thing that stood out. “You talked to Caro?”
“Called her about an hour ago when it became clear by your Sleeping Beauty routine that you’d run yourself so ragged you were officially out of steam. Not trying to ride roughshod over you here, but you need to recharge, baby. Take the day. Take the help. These people love you and want to be here for you. You aren’t a burden. Never have been, never will be.”
I wasn’t the kind of woman who was prone to tears. Sure, I cried when I was incredibly sad and I had the embarrassing habit of blubbering when I was so pissed I wanted to put my fist through something, but usually those were extreme circumstances. However right in that moment I felt a burn behind my eyes as my sinuses started to sting.
I tried to tell myself that it was because I still wasn’t feeling my best and that being sick the past two days had taken a toll, but the truth was, it was all him. He’d gone above and beyond, reaching out to my aunt, a woman who, if you knew her, you knew she was as kind and gentle as they come, but if you didn’t or you crossed her, you’d think she was some kind of crazy gypsy lady who’d put a hex on you without even thinking. And he’d done that for me.
The memories that bombarded me just then were bittersweet. Years ago when we’d been living together, Jensen had a special knack for taking care of me. I wasn’t known to be the best patient when I didn’t feel well, but he had this ability of anticipating what I’d need before I needed it. He took care of me in a way no one else ever had. My aunt was a born caregiver, but she didn’t have anything on the man I’d loved.
I thought that part of my life was long past, so having him here now, knowing exactly what I needed before I knew myself, was overwhelming. This brand of sweet and thoughtful was too much to handle. And it hurt because I knew it wasn’t mine to have, not for the long run. It was a one-time thing, and the knowledge of that freaking killed me.
As if sensing my melancholy, Jensen leaned forward and reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear before bringing his hand down to rest on the side of my neck, his thumb brushing back and forth against my jaw. “Hey. Everything okay?” he asked tenderly. “You got pale all of a sudden. You feeling sick again?”
A tidal wave of feelings I couldn’t control crashed over me. I was going under, gasping for air, but no matter how hard I kicked or flapped my arms, I kept getting sucked back down.
I managed to fake a smile that felt stiff and brittle as I lied, “No, I’m good. I just . . . I think you’re right, staying here is probably best. I’m still a little out of it.”
He regarded me with a closeness that left me unsettled and a little worried he’d seen right through me to the truth I was desperately trying to keep buried deep. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I replied brightly.
I got the feeling he wasn’t buying it, but he let it go anyway. “All right. Well, I’ll finish getting Brant ready, and we’ll head out in a bit. But you have my number.” I did, I’d begrudgingly traded numbers with him shortly after he returned home and started seeing my boy regularly, just in case of emergencies. I’d never actually used the number before. “You call if you need anything, okay?”
“Will do.” I definitely wasn’t calling if I needed anything.
They headed out a short while later, leaving me alone in a quiet house with nothing to do but think about Jensen and all the crazy things he made me feel.
Oh man, I thought, sighing as I shoved myself deeper into my pillows. I’m in big trouble.
Chapter Eighteen
Shane
After my boys left and I found the energy to move into the kitchen, I sat at the little table tucked into the minuscule breakfast nook and scarfed down my breakfast taco and some coffee while berating myself for thinking of Jensen as my boy.
Once my belly had some nourishment and I was properly caffeinated, I took a quick shower to wash off the grossness of the past day and a half, then climbed right back into bed with my hair still wet. I’d tried reading for a little while, but when I’d gotten to a particularly steamy scene in my romance novel and began picturing the couple in the story as Jensen and me, and he started doing some really naughty things to me, I quickly shut my Kindle down and tossed it across the bed. I took a little nap after that, but he managed to invade my dreams as well. When I came awake with a gasp just as things were getting good, I decided sleeping was out of the question.
Between all of that I’d checked my phone relentlessly. I’d gotten a text from Jensen shortly after one. It had been a picture of him and Brantley with their faces smooshed together, both of them cheesing for the camera with the caption “All good here. You better be in bed.” I’d stared at the picture for so long it almost drained my battery, then, before I could think better of it, I saved the photo and made it my wallpaper.
I kept waiting—i.e. hoping—for more messages, but they didn’t come. When I wasn’t staring at my phone, willing it to ping with a new message, I was typing and deleting about a million replies.
Finally sick of myself, I’d plugged the phone into the charger and tossed it onto my nightstand.
I grabbed the remote and turned on the tiny television I had in my room. I flipped carelessly through channels before landing on a show that instantly caught my interest. Now I was deep into my binge of Yellowstone and well and thoroughly obsessed to the point that when Caroline had stopped by earlier with lunch from the diner in town, I’d shushed her while we sat on my bed and ate together. I didn’t even bother stopping her when she “cleaned” my aura, too engrossed in the show to care. When she left a short while later, I distractedly waved her off without once pulling my eyes from the screen.
“Oh Beth, you sassy little badass,” I said to the television.
In the middle of season one I’d made the decision that I wanted to be Beth Dutton when I grew up. Only without some of the cussing because, you know, I had an impressionable kid and all that jazz.
I was so consumed by the drama unfolding between these fictional characters that I didn’t realize Poppy and Farah had shown up until one of them spoke from their place in my doorway.
“What are you watching?”
I let out a startled shriek and launched my remote in their direction. Thankfully my aim was shitty due to still being a little sick, so I missed by several feet.
“Jeez!” Poppy exclaimed, her big blue eyes coming to me as she straightened from her crouch. “I hope that’s not how you treat everyone who comes by to help you.”
“Of course not,” I said with an exaggerated frown. “Only the people who scare the shit out of me. You have no one to
blame but yourselves.”
She held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, we tried knocking. We even called your name when we came in. Not our fault you got sucked in to some—” She looked at the TV and sucked in a gasp. “Is that Yellowstone? God, Rip is so hot!”
“Right?”
Farah let out a light laugh as she bent to retrieve my remote and moved closer, handing it back to me. I quickly paused the show so I wouldn’t miss anything good. “So how are you feeling, honey? Any better?”
I propped my pillows against the headboard and sat back against them, patting the comforter for them to sit. “I’m feeling a lot better. I’d probably still be praying for sweet, sweet death if Jensen hadn’t forced me to go to the doctor.”
My friends shared a look that was part smug, part giddy school girl.
“What?” I asked, my gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of them. “What’re those faces about?”
“Nothing,” Poppy answered with a shit-eating grin. “It just seems like you and Jensen have really been getting along the past few days.”
I shot her a scathing look and crossed my arms over my chest. “There’s nothing going on with me and Jensen besides the fact that we share a kid.” And why the hell did saying those words make me feel like I wanted to throw up again? “And we’ve only been getting along because I’ve been delirious with typhoid fever most of the time.”
Poppy threw her head back on a laugh, sending her silky hair flying. “Wow. Someone’s a drama queen when she’s sick.”
“You’d be dramatic too if you were on the brink of death,” I grumbled. “I’m lucky to be alive.”
“Then I guess it’s a really good thing Jensen was here to help nurse you back from those pearly gates,” Farah teased.
Before I had a chance to shift away from their chosen topic of conversation, my phone pinged and the screen lit up with some social media notification.
Bittersweet (Redemption Book 3) Page 15
