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“Fine. A little bit higher,” he gritted out. I moved it. “Toward the center of my back.” I adjusted again. “Ah, there.” He moaned, and I wasn’t sure if it was a moan of pleasure or of pain.

I held the ice pack against his muscles while we watched the flames dance in the fireplace. Even in the silence, watching the steady rise and fall of Cody’s chest was oddly comforting. I grabbed the other ice pack and pushed up the leg of my sweatpants.

“What’s wrong?” Cody asked.

He couldn’t see me wriggling about, but somehow he knew.

“Nothing,” I lied, giving up and tossing the spare icepack down on the coffee table.

“Did you get that for your knee?”

“Yeah. I thought it might help. But I’m fine,” I dismissed, adjusting the ice pack on his shoulder and holding it where he needed it most. It wasn’t until I looked closely that I saw the angry red scars. They were no bigger than a fingernail, but unmissable all the same. Four strategically placed scars.

“You had surgery,” I told him.

“How did you …”

“The scars.” I ran my finger over the pink, puckered flesh. Goosebumps pebbled his skin. “How long ago?” I asked.

He turned to face me. Seriousness replacing the charm I was used to. “Two months,” he answered, his voice low.

“How bad did you hurt it helping me?”

“I’ll be fine. Now, get your leg up here,” he instructed, diverting the conversation and tapping his thigh.

When I moved too slowly, he reached down and picked up my ankle, draping it across his thigh. As he pushed his too-long sweatpants up my leg, I felt myself holding my breath. The moment his hand touched my skin, I thought I was going to self-combust.

“Your legs are as smooth as they looked,” he commented, leaning over and picking up the icepack I’d tossed away.

I went to pull away, but he kept his grip firm on my ankle. When he pressed the ice against the inside of my knee, it was my turn to hiss.

“You good?”

“It’s cold,” I commented, knowing how stupid it sounded.

“We’ll keep it on for ten minutes, then see how we’re going,” he told me, making it sound like he knew what he was doing.

“Were you a doctor in your other life or something?” I asked, realizing I still didn’t know a whole lot about him.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking with mine. “Or something,” he confirmed before turning back around and sucking in a deep breath.

The ice melted, and Cody put them back in the freezer.

“I should probably get home,” I commented, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

“Or we could have dinner, then I can take you home?” he countered. “I mean, unless you have somewhere else you need to be.”

I didn’t know Cody well, not yet anyway, but I’d already seen so many different sides of him. The cocky and confident side. The thoughtful and caring side. The strong, silent side. But perhaps my favorite was the awkwardly adorable side.

I shook my head and followed him into the kitchen. “No other plans,” I confirmed, loving the look on his face as relief consumed him.

“All right then. Dinner it is. I’m not sure what I have …” he rambled.

“Well, I’m not keen on frozen pizza,” I pointed out.

“You don’t like pizza?” The surprise in his tone was almost comical. Almost like it was a dealbreaker.

“Love pizza. Hate cardboard,” I confirmed.