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She let out a huff. “Top drawer, flannel pajamas, and don’t you dare look at anything else.”
I walked over and pulled the top drawer open. There on top was a pair of white flannel pajamas covered in little puppies wearing a Santa hat. I couldn’t help but smile as I reached in and grabbed the pair on top. “You actually wear these?” I questioned, holding them up.
“Tristan,” she gritted, her jaw clenched.
Immediately, I wiped the smile from my face and placed them down at the foot of the bed. “Need anything else?” I questioned.
“Glass of water.”
“Okay.” I turned and left the room, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, and made my way back and set it on her night table. Then I switched the small light on beside her bed and shut the overhead light off. “Anything else?”
She looked around the bedroom. “My book. It’s out on the table beside the couch.”
I darted out and picked up the book from the small table and carried it back into her while looking at the cover.
“You actually read that filth?” I said, holding up the book to produce a romance cover.
“Yes, and I happen to like it. There are sheets and extra blankets in the closet beside the bathroom.”
I nodded and turned to leave her bedroom, pulling the door shut, but I stopped and turned back to her. “Brooke, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses and saw that I was right.”
“Oh…is that what you think has happened here?”
I nodded.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I am exhausted, in pain, and was tired of arguing.” I met her eyes as she glared at me. “Close my door.”
I pulled the door closed and stood there for a moment, and as I looked around the small living room, I realized that I’d always been a fuckup. My brother had firmly reminded me of that ever since the day he’d found out what I’d done with my tuition, taking what was earmarked for school, paying for only the first semester, and pocketing the rest so I could party it up. However, the second I’d laid eyes on Brooke again, I wanted to change that about myself. I hoped that I could prove to her that I wasn’t the fuckup everyone knew I was, but, deep down, I knew she already thought that of me. My heart sank. I’d just have to prove to her she was wrong, and it all started with tomorrow.
Brooke
I’d been in bed only a half hour. I’d tried to read but couldn’t get my mind off tomorrow. Panic had set in. They only had three hours before the diner opened at eight, when Melinda would be pulled from the kitchen to help Cici with tables. The orders had piled up. When I last checked my Baking Crate orders, there was way more than I would even be comfortable with. I felt bad knowing that not only would she have to deal with all that, but that she also had to deal with Tristan and getting him to learn the ins and outs of what I’d taught her over the past few years.
I let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. I needed a Christmas miracle at this point because I feared the worst. I rolled onto my side. Light from the living room spilled under the door. Tristan was still up. I clenched my teeth, worried that he wouldn’t be up in time to meet Melinda at five. I felt so helpless.
I rolled onto my back. I had to use the bathroom. I looked to the bathroom door. It wasn’t that far. Surely, I could make it a couple of steps on my own, I thought to myself. I kicked the covers off and sat up, placing my good foot down on the carpeted floor. I stood up and steadied myself, then placed my sprained foot down. Instantly, pain shot up my leg, and I let out a yelp.
“Brooke? You okay?” Tristan’s deep voice yelled from the other side of the door.
I bit my bottom lip to try and stop the tears from forming in my eyes and choked out a yes. I was about to sit back down when the bedroom door opened. I looked over my shoulder to see Tristan looking in at me.
“What are you doing?” he questioned.
“I needed to use the washroom,” I whimpered, holding onto my leg just above the air cast.
“So, why didn’t you call for me.”
“I’m not going to call you in the middle of the night and wake you up. That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s only eleven. I’m still up,” he said, stepping inside my room. I felt his hands go around my waist, and he pulled me back against him. “Stop being so stubborn,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear, as he guided me to the bathroom.
I wanted to die as he left me in the washroom to do my business. “Just call me when you are finished,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him.
Once I’d called, he helped me back to the bed and I crawled in. I grabbed my prescription and popped one of the pain pills into my mouth and took a drink of water, while Tristan placed the covers on me, making sure there wasn’t a ton of pressure on my foot.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked.
“I want to talk to you,” I murmured, looking at him.
