Page 117 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“Take your shower. I’ll change the bed.”

“You’re wet too.”

“I’ll shower after you.”

I pulled the nightgown over my head. The fabric landed on the bathroom floor with a heavy slap.

Elijah’s attention passed over my naked body, but desire wasn’t the first thing I saw in his face. It was tenderness.

He kissed my forehead and left me beneath the cool water.

The shower quieted my skin, but exhaustion remained behind my eyes.

I wrapped myself in a towel and opened the bathroom door.

The wet sheets were gone. Fresh blue cotton covered the mattress. Elijah had changed the pillowcases and replaced the damp blanket with a lighter quilt from the linen closet. My nightgown and his clothes were in the washing machine down the hall.

He stood beside the bed in clean boxer briefs and lowered the thermostat on the wall. A glass of ice water waited on my nightstand.

“You found everything.”

“I know where you keep the sheets.”

The simple statement reminded me how often he slept in my home. His toothbrush stood beside mine. Scrubs occupied part of the second drawer in my dresser. A charger remained plugged into the wall on his side of the bed.

At Christmas, I realized he was no longer a visitor.

Tonight, he moved through my house as though caring for me belonged among the other things he knew how to do here.

I crossed the room and picked up the water. Cold slid down my throat and settled inside my chest.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

Elijah went into the bathroom. The shower ran for only a few minutes before he returned, his skin still damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

I watched him dress in another pair of boxer briefs.

“You keep more clothes here than I realized.”

“I planned ahead.”

“For my night sweats?”

“For mornings when I leave your house and go directly to the hospital.”

My gaze moved toward the clock.

“It’s almost three. What time do you have to leave?”

“I don’t.”

“You’re off tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Completely?”