The last couple of weeks have flown by in a whirlwind of appointments and traffic and getting Madi, Dani and Kace where they needed to be on time. It's also been a crash course on getting to know one another.
The daily battle to cover his cast so he can bathe and recoup after he comes home soaked to the skin from PT. Dinners and movie nights with Dani and, occasionally, Madi. "Ditto," I whisper finally, because it's true.
When my head stops whirling and the little black dots fade from the corners of my vision, I force myself away from the heat and scent and comfort of him. Kace straightens but remains seated on the edge of the tub.
I get to my feet and move to the sink to brush my teeth. I think the worst is over. At least for now.
"Aww, Linds."
"What?" I look down, trying to see whatever it is that caused the comment.
"You're losing weight, sweetheart."
I turn and find Kace standing, leaning on his crutches, his brows pinched over his nose as his gaze rakes over every inch of me in my sleep shorts and tank.
"Oh. No, I'm fine. I just need the morning sickness to go away."
"Feel like eating some toast?"
I roll that over in my mind and decide maybe it's not a bad idea. "Yeah."
Once I'm minty fresh, I head toward the kitchen on still shaky legs, aware of Kace swinging along behind me on the crutches. His mood has greatly improved since being able to use them, and I know he's glad to be free of the wheelchair. The change from thigh cast to lower leg cast also allows him to sit up front when we travel, and he's said several times that he never wants to sit in the backseat again.
PT still seems to be doing him in each time he goes, but I can tell physically he's getting stronger and regaining more range of motion on his burned side. The sling is gone, obviously, since he's using the crutches, and he's now able to lift his arm over his head without too much pain. He says the burned skin pulls and feels tight, but it's come a long way since his hospital stay.
Kace grabs the bagged bread and pops four slices into the toaster while I grab butter and ponder the jam options. The farmer's market on Saturday mornings at the lake had a large display when I drove Kace and Dani last week, and I couldn't resist getting a sampling of them.
"What's it going to be this time?" Kace asks in that seductively deep tone of his.
"Black raspberry," I say, holding up the jar.
"Sounds good. I'll take that, too."
I ignore the others and grab utensils. The toaster pops, and Kace turns to toss the toast my way one at a time. I laugh and hurry to catch them, smiling at his antics and enjoying this moment more than I should.
I start on the toast while he gets himself turned and moves to the table. We settle in, and I find myself sneaking glances at my handsome companion.
The redness on his face and neck from the heat scald is gone now. His skin peeled a bit like a bad sunburn, but it didn't leave lasting damage like the burns on his back and shoulder.
I admit, some days I wonder what I've gotten myself into when Dani and Madi are in moods and Kace is grumpy from pain, but other times, I think about how nice it is to spend time with him like this. To not be alone during the sickness, even though it's embarrassing.
It's…more than companionship. It's friendship and maybe a little flirtation. Respect. He's such a great dad and uncle and single parent. A good friend. There's a lot to admire in Kace's big, muscular body, and…truthfully, I do. Maybe more than I should, but I do.
Too bad we couldn't have met before the world broke both of us. Timing is everything. It matters. Because the longer I know Kace, the harder it is to believe in temporary…
Chapter
Eighteen
Kace
Two weeks later, I'm in PT sweating like a high-school football player on the field in August and still pondering the wisdom of my words to Lindsey that night about being glad she was the one I shared my mess with.
The words were appropriate and true because she's become a friend in the time I've known her. But I wonder if our friendship is based on needing each other in a practical sense rather than real friendship. Or…is that real friendship? That of helping each other out when we're able?
Either way, she's already got a life problem she didn't choose and is struggling to find solid footing. I admire her for choosing to move forward with her pregnancy when so many women wouldn't, but I have to remember I'm simply a steppingstone for Lindsey to get to where she wants to be before the baby is born.
This is a job to her. And while our familiarity and friendship grows deeper every day as we get to know each other better and become more friendly, it's still nothing personal. Nothing deeper.
