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She lifts an eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe me.
Fuck.How am I going to explain this? What am Isupposedto say? Because I can’t go with the truth, since the truth is me telling her,Phoenix, I swear I’m not looking through your window because I’m some kind of voyeuristic pervert. It’s because I can’t not look at you. I can’t stop myself from checking in on you and making sure you’re okay. There’s something about you that draws me in and makes me want to protect you, the same way you want to protect those puppies from life in the shelter, because you’re too good and too innocent to deserve a life like this, and something tells me you haven’t been protected by anyone your whole life. I couldn’t save my mom, and I can’t stop my brother from hurting himself, and for once I just want to be enough to make somebody feel like everything’s going to be okay because I’m here.
No, I can’t say that.
“I’m sorry, Phoenix. I—”
She squeezes her eyes shut and reaches up to press her palm to her forehead. “It’s throbbing so bad.”
“Come on, let’s get you dried off. I want to keep icing your head to keep the swelling down.” I help her stand and wrap a towel around her, easing her legs over the edge of the tub.
She blinks up at me while I squeeze the water out of the ends of her hair. “You’re a caretaker.”
“I am.”
“That’s a learned behavior, you know.”
I roll my lips together and work the towel down her arms. “What does that mean?”
“It means you grew up thinking you had to take care of your family, instead of them taking care of you.”
I drop my arms and let the towel hang at my side. Memories of my mother flash through my mind.
Phoenix lifts her hand to my face, grazing her fingertips against my jaw. “You save everyone, but who saves you?”
I swallow around the ball of emotion in my throat. “Maybe I don’t need saving.”
“We all need saving every once in a while.”
Her big brown eyes stare into mine with such sincerity, I lose all sense for a moment. My fingers move of their own volition, trailing along the hollow of her neck and tracing the curve of her bare shoulder. She sways closer, her lips parting and drawing every ounce of my attention.
But she’s taken more than a few hits to the head, and the last thing I want is her to make a decision like this when she’s not in the right frame of mind.
So I bend down and lift her, cradling her bruised body in my arms. “Right now, it’s you who needs saving.”
She directs me to her bedroom, and I help her into her pajamas. Then I make her another ice pack for her head.
When she’s settled in bed, she presses the ice against her eye. “How much longer until I can fall asleep?”
“Give me another thirty minutes, and I think you should be okay. You haven’t thrown up, and your pupils don’t look dilated.”
“Yes, Dr. Russo.” She smiles, but it fades just as fast. “You don’t have to stay. I promise I’ll follow your orders and stay up for another half hour.”
I climb onto the mattress beside her, propping myself against the headboard, and fold my hands over my stomach.
“James.”
“Phoenix.”
An irritated sound leaves her throat. “Why won’t you stop calling me that?”
“Why won’t you tell me the reason you don’t like it when I call you that?”
“Will you stop if I tell you?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
