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But I couldn’t confuse my teenaged lust or my adult longing for home for true feelings.
The last thing I needed was to fall in love with my husband.
Chapter16
Hazel
“Ineed to do this,” I pleaded. “It’s been two days. I feel disgusting.”
Remy squinted at me and cocked his head. “Are you sure you’re up for it?” He had been hovering over me since I was discharged. And I appreciated it. But at some point, I had to live my life.
“I’ve been up and moving. I promise, I can do it.”
“Okay, but we’ve got to wrap up your incision. Will you let me help?”
While I waited for Remy to get a roll of plastic wrap from the kitchen, I picked out clean clothes and set them on the counter next to the sink. The bathroom was spacious, luxurious even, with a large tiled shower outfitted with a rain shower head.
Plastic wrap in hand, he stood near the door, staring at his feet while I undressed. I peeled off my T-shirt and shimmied out of my sweatpants, leaving me in a pair of panties and a worn sports bra.
Finally looking up, Remy took a step forward, his eyes laser focused on my face, his movements rigid. My hands shook slightly as I turned my back to him and lifted the bra over my head.
“Can you wrap it around my stomach?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Um. Sure.” He stretched out the plastic and carefully lined it up under my rib cage, where the first of three incisions peppered my right side. I kept my hands covering my breasts as he slowly moved around me, wrapping the plastic around my torso several times before cutting the end and smoothing it down with his hands.
“There,” he rasped, his focus on the floor again, “that should do it.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I can take it from here.”
He nodded and turned. “Call if you need me.”
I kept my back to him until I heard the door close and then let out a long sigh. My muscles ached from the way I’d kept every one of them locked when he was so close. Those hands. Big and strong, yet so tender and gentle.
I took pride in being a practical person. Never romantic or flighty. I wasn’t the kind of girl who got swept up and spun out wild romantic fantasies. I’d had many relationships over the years, short and long, and never once had my brain danced around in a Disney style happily ever after montage.
But tonight, I was weak from surgery, and I was drunk on Remy. His kindness, his touch, his raw strength.
As I stepped into the warm water, scene after scene filled my head. A lifetime of romantic moments. The kind of sappy shit I would normally laugh at.
Clearly, I was delirious. Motrin just wasn’t cutting it, and I would not take narcotics on principle, so getting clean was my best solution.
As I stood under the spray, I was hit by a wave of pain, and soon nausea and dizziness overtook me.
I lowered myself to the tile floor, shaking as my body fought my mind. A shower, clean hair, and comfy clothes were all I wanted. Just to feel human again. But my body wasn’t there yet. I was too tired, too sore.
And so I wept. Crying out my frustration and fear.
I’d lost track of time, but the water was still hot when I heard a knock on the door.
“Hazel? You okay?”
I said nothing, afraid I would sob if I opened my mouth. I curled up as the water pounded at my back.
“Hazel, I’m worried. Can I come in?”
“Yes,” I finally croaked.
Keeping his eyes averted like the gentleman he was, Remy shuffled to the shower door. “Do you need help?”
