"Good. You feel like moving back to the bed yet?"
All the way in there? "In a bit. Go back—go back to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you."
"I was already up. I slept too long today after PT. I'll stay and keep you company for a while."
I hear him refresh the first washcloth and blindly reach out a hand to swap them again. Our fingers brush in the doing, and despite the fact I've just hurled until the cows came home, I feel the touch all the way up my arm. Like a burst of heat lightning.
Really? Now?
My body is playing cruel, cruel tricks on me. This is not funny.
I groan again at my thoughts, and Kace must think I'm about to get sick again because he leans forward to pat my back before gathering my hair in his fist. His touch is soothing. The gesture sweet, and it cements the awful mess I've made of my life.
Under different circumstances, I might actually see where things could go with Kace. He's a good guy, and he's a great dad. He's also a handsome man who turns heads, including my own. And he's caring. Obviously.
The problem is, it's too late. Even though I didn't know my baby's father is married, I did the unthinkable. I am the other woman. I'm ashamed and not exactly the kind of woman a good guy like Kace would choose.
In the weeks since we started living together, we've had time to talk. And those car games of twenty questions filled in a lot of holes regarding Dani's mom. How she'd become addicted to pain killers and cheated with her doctor to maintain her supply. And that was only the start.
I hope Kace knows he deserves so much better than that. Addiction is a sickness. I know this, and I'm not throwing stones. I guess I just don't understand it, and I thank God I don't. But how could any woman choose pills over a man like Kace? Over precious little Dani? It goes to show just how dangerous medications can be.
And there's the fact that I am pregnant, and he's injured—and no amount of wishing is going to fix the issues we face individually. Our situations? Bad timing on steroids.
Because no matter how often I catch Kace looking at me like I'm…good? Helpful?
I don't feel that way. I feel exposed. Like a fraud. Because good girls don't get involved with married men, much less get knocked up and abandoned by them.
Yeah, maybe it's the hurling, but I'm kicking myself while I'm down because facts are facts. Like it or not. And fact: I hate that I allowed a man to pull one over on me and make me the other woman.
After a few more minutes, I force my head up and use the seat to stand. My head whirls like a merry-go-round, and I quickly shove the lid down to plop atop it, only then realizing Kace is still there, sitting on the tub, watching my every move.
He'd…stayed.
Tears prickle my eyes at his kindness and concern. Why couldn't I have met him earlier? Before?
"Head rush?"
I force the tears away with a blink and revel in the comfort he gives from a foot away, however unknowingly. "Yeah."
"Just sit tight. Take it slow."
He shifts until his good arm is around me, offering comfort and supporting me. I let my head fall to the crook of his neck only to gasp. "Your burns."
I try to pull back, but he doesn't let me.
"I'm fine," he says, fingers rubbing my scalp and neck. "Stay still."
He smells good. Like man and soap with just the hint of the ointment used on his poor healing skin. "We are a mess, aren't we?"
My lips quirk up when his chuckle vibrates through me. It's such a rumbly, masculine sound, and it soothes my battered body.
"That we are. But you know what?"
"What?" The word emerges tight and husky sounding. I think I feel his lips brush my hair, but surely that's a figment of my imagination?
"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather share this mess with. I'm glad it's you."
My laugh is a half groan because it's such a cheesy thing to say. But I share the sentiment.
