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“Here, let me get you something.”
I heard a bag rustling before some plastic started clinking together, and before I knew it, Flynn had taken my hand and dropped a couple of pills into it. I heard a bottle of water crack open, and I threw the pills into my mouth, and Flynn held the bottle of water up to my lips while I gulped it along with the pills down. I gulped so hard, droplets of water started to drop onto my chin, and I felt Flynn tip the bottle down before his thumb ran across my skin. My head was throbbing, and it was keeping my eyes closed, but the warmth of his hand was so comforting. My mind flashed back to the night we spent in his trailer and how good it felt to have his body rolling into mine again, and my hand shook so badly Flynn picked it up and brought it to his lips to kiss.
“You need to rest,” he murmured into my skin.
The truth wa
s, I was nervous about being alone in his home with him. All of my confidence in explaining to him what had happened before seemed to have disappeared with the accident. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me and I knew he would take care of me, but my body was already succumbing to him. My skin puckered at his touch, and my thighs involuntarily squeezed whenever he had kissed the back of my hand, and I knew that if I stayed here longer than I needed to, I would be second-guessing my flight back to Paris in a month. I’d already almost made that mistake once, and I wasn’t going to make it again.
I wasn’t going to throw away my dream life for my dream cowboy.
But most of all, I was scared he would ask. I was petrified that he would ask me why I left, and I was petrified that he would ask me where I went to. I was absolutely terrified that he would ask me why I didn’t just tell him or, better still, why I didn’t ask him to go with me. Part of me was scared he would ask me to stay because I knew I would go in a heartbeat for him, but part of me was petrified that he would ask me to take him, because I knew I would do that, too.
The difference was that leaving him here meant he could stay in his element and pursued what he loved. If I stayed here, I would’ve been miserable and always asking myself “what if,” and eventually I would’ve grown to resent him. But, if he would’ve gone with me, it would’ve been the same ordeal. He wouldn’t have had any rodeos or buckin’ broncos or anything to occupy his time, and there weren’t many rodeos happening in the city of Paris, France.
I didn’t want him to ask any of the questions I knew he wanted answers to, but I knew if we were alone long enough, he would.
I laid down when I got the pain medication in me and when I woke up there was a fresh bowl of cabbage soup near my bed. I picked it up to my lips and began to slurp, not caring about using the spoon, and just as I finished the silky broth that poured over my lips, I heard a little knock at the door.
“Just me,” Flynn said. “How ya feeling?”
“Better,” I sighed.
“Soup good?”
“Very, yes. Thank you.”
“I’m gonna go in here and run you a bath. Figured you’d wanna clean up, but standing up in a shower probably won’t help nausea.”
“Probably not,” I responded.
I heard him retreat into the bathroom and turn on the water, and I took the chance to open my eyes. The room was still spinning a bit, but my head wasn’t pounding, so I swung my legs over the couch and tried to stand.
“Hold on a second, Chelsea,” Flynn warned. “Lemme help.”
I felt his arm snake around my waist, and his body felt so strong against mine. Images of his lips caused me to shiver into him, and for the first time since that night in the trailer, he pulled me close.
“Let’s take it slow,” he murmured lowly.
We made our way to the bathtub, and he sat me on the edge, and it was sweet how he closed his eyes to I could get out of my clothes. He held onto my legs so I wouldn’t fall anywhere, and when it came time to take my pants off, he raised up his hands and held onto my shoulders. Without opening his eyes once, he helped me into the bath, but when he opened his eyes, I saw something that frightened me.
I saw a question rolling around, and Flynn was never one to censor himself.
“I wanna be with you, Chelsea,” he said lowly.
I sighed and closed my eyes before I sank into the bubbles. Flynn was taking wonderful care of me, but I should’ve seen this statement coming.
“Flynn, we can’t,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because we just can’t,” I groaned.
“Look. Ya left me, and I get that. But ya came back, and that’s a thing that happened. Ya don’t go knockin’ on someone’s trailer and experience what we did without feelings behind it. I care for you, Chelsea. I never stopped.”
His words wounded me to my core. My entire body buzzed for him, and something inside of me wanted to tug him into this bathtub and hold him close amidst the hot water and the soap suds. But, it wouldn’t work. I know I’m a country girl at heart, but a man like him doesn’t care about fashion and a woman like me doesn’t live where rodeos are constantly a thing.
Not if you want a career in fashion, that is.
