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His breathing deepened. The pain meds had kicked in. But Harry was fighting them, perhaps unconsciously.
“It’s time to remove the ice pack,” she said. “I probably should have already done that.”
She had to touch the warm skin of his leg to get the ice pack off. Underneath, his kneecap had already turned half a dozen shades of purple, though the swelling wasn’t any worse. Carefully, she slipped the Velcro strap out from under him.
“There,” she said. “Let me go put this in the freezer.” That way there would always be one ready to go.
When Harry didn’t protest, she assumed he was asleep.
Downstairs, she moved carefully in the dark. When she opened the freezer door, the air rushed out, cold on her hot cheeks. Would Harry ever have told her the truth if he hadn’t been drugged?
Did Jason know? Surely so.
But how did that explain Harry’s feelings about his mother?
Confusion and fatigue were a bad combination. She climbed the stairs slowly, feeling a million years old. After a very quick shower, she dried off and put on a pair of knit shorts and a loose T-shirt.
Then she brushed her teeth, gathered her phone cord and a few other things, and tiptoed down the hall.
After turning back the covers on the unused guest bed, she slipped through the adjoining bathroom and checked on her patient.
Earlier, she had turned off the overhead light and left only a small lamp burning on the bedside table. Harry appeared to be dead to the world.
Her instinct was to turn off the lamp. But if Harry tried to get up during the night and she didn’t hear him, the dark would be dangerous.
She left the small light burning and made sure both bathroom doors were open. Then she fell into bed and was asleep instantly.
The alarm in the middle of the night was an obscene shock. No rays of sunlight peeked through the drapes. For a good twenty seconds, Cate was completely disoriented.
Finally, understanding filtered through her groggy brain. Before checking on Harry, she went downstairs and retrieved an ice pack along with more juice and another cereal bar. The cold therapy was long overdue, but a woman could only handle so much when the patient was cranky, naked and not related to her.
The pain meds must have been doing their work. Harry appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The covers weren’t tumbled. One hand rested, palm open, on his chest.
She debated waking him. It seemed cruel. On the other hand, the ice pack would help with swelling, and the pills would stave off further pain.
It was a heck of a choice. Finally, she sat down on his side of the bed and put her hand on his bare shoulder. “Harry,” she said quietly.
He never moved, though his chest rose and fell with steady breathing. “Harry.” This time she shook him.
Those gorgeous eyelashes fluttered and opened. Even bleary-eyed, the man was beautiful. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Middle of the night. I have your medicine.”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Oh,” she said, blushing. “I’ll step into the hall.”
She leaned against the wall and listened. When she was certain he was back in bed, she returned to her mission.
Harry was sitting up, waiting. And he had made sure his injured leg was uncovered. This time, she didn’t ask questions. She positioned the ice pack, offered the juice and snack, and gave him the pain pill.
The whole process took less than five minutes.
As she turned to walk away, Harry caught the hem of her sleep shorts in his fingers. “Thank you,” he said, his gaze sober.
“You’re welcome.”
“One more thing...”
