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“What’s wrong? Are you feeling ill again? What do you need?”
“I need to get dressed! I’m not really dressed to receive visitors!”
There were a few beats of silence before he let out a low bark of laughter. “Dressed to receive visitors?”
She felt something hot and solid at her back and knew he was standing there. It took everything in her not to melt back into him. To let him take her weight. She was already feeling worn out just from standing there for a few moments.
This was ridiculous.
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s cute, Rainbow. And you’re right, you’re not. You shouldn’t ever wear just this around visitors. But I’m not a visitor.” He was talking close to her ear, and she had to work hard to control a shiver.
“What are you then?”
“I’m a friend.”
A friend. Right. That was . . . good. That should be what she wanted. Nothing more.
Just friends.
Then why did a stab of disappointment hit her?
Perhaps because you’re an idiot. You can’t have anything more. Hell, having him as a friend is risky enough.
Get your head on straight.
“I just need to go find my, uh, robe.”
“All right. You do that. And I’ll heat you up some soup.”
“I’m not hungry,” she protested.
“Tough.”
Aston turned toward him, raising her eyebrows at his statement, but he was already moving away from her toward the kitchen. She thought about arguing . . . but why?
Why get upset at someone heating her up some soup? It wasn’t like she’d had anyone in her life look after her.
Ever.
And even if he was just here as a friend . . . even if he never did anything else like this again, well, he’d done more to help her than anyone else in her life.
And wasn’t that depressing?
“Go put your robe on, Aston. And use the bathroom.”
Her mouth gaped open. Use the bathroom? Was he serious? Who was he to tell her to use the bathroom? She didn’t need to pee . . . actually, wait a minute.
She really did.
Darn it. She stomped away . . . okay, let’s face it, she stumbled away. After grabbing her old, worn robe, she made her way to the bathroom.
A squeak of fright left her mouth as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Holy. Crap. Balls.
She looked terrible. Her hair was a mess around her face. A very pale face with sunken eyes. Drat.
And now that she thought about it, she really needed to brush her teeth.
After peeing, she cleaned herself up as well as she could.
She really needed a shower.
Was it too much to ask to have some hot water?
A knock on the door made her jump. “Yes?”
“Come out and eat your soup, Rainbow.”
He was being even bossier than before.
But she didn’t keep him waiting. She owed him more than she could express. And she wasn’t sure how to pay him back. It didn’t feel right to owe him.
Opening the door, she kept her gaze down as she shuffled out of the bathroom. Embarrassed, she headed into the living room. There, she saw a bowl of chicken noodle soup along with some dry crackers and a Gatorade sitting on the coffee table.
“Whose robe is that?” he asked.
Huh? That wasn’t a question she was expecting?
“Um, mine. Did you think I stole it?”
“If you stole a robe, I’d hope you’d steal a better one,” he countered, sitting on an armchair across from her.
“Hey! I like this robe. It’s soft.”
“It’s a man’s robe.”
She shrugged. Yeah, it was. It was too big, but it was nice and soft and she liked it. She sent a glare his way before she remembered she was trying not to look at him. “I like it.”
“I’m going to get you something better.”
“You are not!” Another glare, then she glanced away. Fuck. This was ridiculous. “I like this one.”
“I don’t.”
“What is wrong with you?” she asked.
He ran his hand over his face with a tired sigh.
Stupid question, Aston. What’s wrong with him is that he had to stay here and take care of you because you couldn’t take care of yourself. And he probably got no sleep.
He was tired and grumpy, and he had every right to feel that way.
Had she taken advantage of him? She had to right the scales.
“Your couch is fucking uncomfortable.”
She winced, drawing in on herself as she stirred the soup.
Yeah, she knew the couch sucked. She’d slept on it a few times when she’d nodded off while watching television. There was this spring that seemed to dig right into the middle of your back.
“I know, sorry.”
She hadn’t asked him to stay . . . but it was really decent of him to look after her.
“Nothing to be sorry about. I just . . . didn’t get much sleep. So I might be slightly grouchy.”
“I thought you didn’t sleep much anyway.”
“I’m getting older, baby girl. Got to sleep sometimes.”
