Page 116

Deciding the flowers need to be out of the house, I pull out the trash bag and walk them to the bin in the garage, dropping it inside.

Then I get Kain’s ice pack from the new freezer and head back inside.

When I go to the living room, though, I find the couch empty.

I search the room, as if he’ll magically reappear where he’s supposed to be. Then, the opening notes of a familiar guitar progression drift from the hall, in the direction of the bedrooms.

Heat starts at my collar and climbs, burning my ears, my cheeks, and the bridge of my nose under my glasses.

My skin tightens.

My dick stirs.

Five stars.

My fingers tighten around the ice pack, and I stomp into Kain’s bedroom.

Darkness shrouds the room from the drawn curtains, leaving Kain a lump under the blankets. His phone sits on the nightstand, the screen glowing blue with the music app.

I stab at the pause button and cut After Dark mid-bar.

Silence engulfs the room.

“Hey.” Kain half sits up on his elbows. “I was listening to that.”

“Then listen to something else.”

Still flushed, I switch to Save Point. The soft, looping instrumental track I’ve been using since the hospital.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” I drop the ice pack onto his stomach. “That’s what naps are for.”

As I turn to storm back out, Kain catches my hand. “Bunny?”

My heart is still racing as I turn back. “What?”

His finger massages my pulse point. “This is some kind of nursing sim, right? Is that what’s happening?”

I stiffen, and a soothing rumble vibrates in his chest.

“It’s okay, I just need to know the parameters.” He draws my hand to his cheek and nuzzles my palm. “What is the clear goal?”

My treacherous dick thickens to full hardness, and I snatch my hand away. “There is no clear goal. I’m taking care of you.”

He starts to climb out of bed. “That’s not⁠—”

I shove him back down, and he winces. “You’re hurt. I’m taking care of you.”

Eyes wide, he settles back on his pillow. “Okay, Bunny. Whatever you want.”

With a satisfied grunt, I adjust his ice pack, pull up the blanket, and set a timer for fifteen minutes. “Now, lie still.”

Kain doesn’t answer.

Heat still burns across my cheeks, and my heart hammers as I retreat to the bathroom, the door locking behind me with a soft click.

With all my attention locked onto Kain’s recovery schedule, the medication timers, the meal deliveries, and the forum batches, I’ve been ignoring the Heat app for days.

I open it now, and the numbers load. I swipe past the predictive data about fertility windows and open the calendar.