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ARI
I always knew Cash was protective, but this takes it to another level.
I’m sitting on the couch while he takes my temperature for the third time in the last hour. He’s wearing the same expression he’s had all last night and this morning—his mouth pinched, lines of strain etched into his forehead. While he waits for the thermometer to finish measuring, he re-tucks my blanket around me with the single-minded intensity of a surgeon.
“It’s probably the same as the last time,” I say, holding the thermometer so I can talk around it.
“Shh.” Cash gives me a gently stern look. “Now we have to take it again.”
Okay, then.
When the doctor checked in before releasing me from the hospital this morning, he said I was fine. “Just take it easy today,” the doctor said with a smile. “Watch some movies, relax—tomorrow you can get back to all your normal activities.”
I think Cash has a different idea of what taking it easy means.
When we got home, Cashcarriedme from the garage to the house. I was getting out of the car and he just scooped me up, fixing me with a determined gaze. “Please, Ari,” he said as I started to argue. “Let me do this.”
That’s when I realized he needed it more than me.
He wouldn’t let me take a shower by myself, insisting on being in there with me. But not in the fun, showering together, sexy way—he just carefully washed and dried every inch of me before dressing me in layers of leggings and long-sleeved shirts and fuzzy socks and his giant Cornell sweatshirt that I love to steal.
I didn’t need help to get dressed, either, but by that point, I just let him do it.
Once I got settled on the couch, I thought that was the end of it. Nope.
In the last hour, Cash has been a dervish, rushing around to anticipate my every need. There’s the food: on the coffee table beside me is an array of snacks, an insulated carafe of hot tea, a bowl of steaming soup, and a sandwich the size of my head.
For entertainment, I have a stack of brand new Christmas romance novels—not sure where those came from, but I’m not complaining—a pile of trashy magazines, and the TV tuned to the Hallmark Channel.
I asked about my laptop to do some grading and Cash outright refused. “You need to relax today. The doctor said.”
It’s not that I mind Cash taking care of me, but I hate seeing how upset he is, the guilt that tightens his features at random moments—likehe’sthe one who shot at us and dumped me into icy water.
If it weren’t for Cash, I could have died out there. He’s the one who knocked me out of the way, who pulled me from the water, and kept me warm until the ambulance came. And hecould have been shot as easily as me.
Which is terrifying.
As to whywe were shot at? Deep down, I’m afraid I know why. I was the target.
But I’m trying not to think about it. At least not now.
I’m not oblivious; I knowwe have to talk about the shooter and everything that’s involved with the incident from yesterday. But I’m back home, and I’m warm and safe and Cash is okay, and that’s all I want to concentrate on right now. Everything else can come later.
Cash pulls the thermometer from my lips and reads it, frowning. “It’s a tenth of a degree lower than the last time. I don’t like that.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I soothe, and pat the couch cushion next to me. “Sit. You’ve done everything. Just relax with me.”
He hesitates, his gaze bouncing between the thermometer and me. “Fine.” Cash sits down, sighing. “But I’m checking it again in ten minutes.”
It’s nice that he’s so worried about me, but it hurts my heart, too. I climb into his lap, sitting sideways, tucking the blanket around both of us. “I’m okay, Cash. Really.”
His strong arms wrap around me, snuggling me into his chest. “I know I’m being over-protective. But—” He takes a deep breath. “I just want to be sureyou’re okay.”
“And I love that you’re so concerned about me.” I kiss his neck, the skin soft and warm and smelling of soap. “But I want to make sure you’re okay, too. Yesterday was hard for both of us.”
Cash swallows hard, his voice going rough. “I’ve never been that scared, Ari. Never.” His gaze holds mine, dark with pain. “Not when my grandfather was dying, not even when my parents died and I didn’t know whatwas going on. If something had happened to you—”
I rush to interrupt him. “It didn’t. We’re both okay. Thanks to you.”
