Now that I know she’s okay, that it’s just a sprain and will likely heal nicely and pretty quickly, my mind is at ease.
As I hold her hands in mine, I realize something suddenly: I didn’t like her getting hurt, obviously, but I did like being the one she trusted to carry her through the storm. I liked being the one she reached for.
And I really like this: her hands in mine, her eyes on me, the flush on her cheeks as she gazes at me. It’s a trusting look, like she knows I’ll take care of her.
I want to be worthy of that trust.
“When we get home,” I tell her, “we’ll get your feet up on the sofa. Lucky will want to put her head on your lap. I’ll coveryou with that fuzzy blanket you bought. You’ll be toasty as hell.”
She smiles. “Aren’t you glad I started buying you furniture and accessories and filling the house with soft cozy things?”
“Very,” I answer.
“Bet you didn’t think we’d get to ‘in sickness’ part of the vows so fast.”
“I guess we’re doing a speed run through it,” I say. “You got a little too close to the ‘death do us part’ for comfort today. Let’s take our time with all the others, yeah?”
She just looks at me like she’s waiting for me to realize what I just said—all the other wedding vows we’d be taking our time with.
To have and to hold. To love and to cherish.
Things I can’t give her.
But even if I can’t have her, at least I’m holding her right now.
“What do you want for dinner?” I ask. “I’ll cook.”
She blinks. “You cook?”
“I make a decent chili,” I say. “And cornbread. Mom’s recipe.”
Her expression softens. “That sounds really good actually.”
“Then that’s what we’re having.” I’m still rubbing her hands. She’s warming up. I add, “And you’re not moving from that couch until I say so.”
“Very bossy,” she says, still smiling softly.
“You’re fun to boss around,” I murmur, my thumb skimming across her knuckles.
The look in her eyes turns even warmer. “Is that so?”
“Mm. I like knowing what you need. I like being the one who can give it to you.”
There’s a slight hitch in her breath. “And what do I need, Slade?”
“To stop being in charge for a little while. To let someoneelse take care of you.” I bring her fingertips to my mouth to blow hot on them, my lips brushing her knuckles.
“Never tried that before,” she says, gaze dipping to my lips. “Might be a little out of my comfort zone.”
“Good. That’s where the interesting stuff happens.”
Those honey-brown eyes hold mine. Her hands are still in mine and I can feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, faster than it was a minute ago.
My gaze lingers on her pink lips.
Would it really be so bad to kiss her? It would just be for comfort. Just a way to say I’m here, I care about you, I’ll take care of you.
I lean in, willing to test that notion, when there’s a knock at the door.
