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“Sure,” she says with a laugh. “I’ll go wait in the car. Take your time.”
“It’s just a thank you. It’s proper manners.”
“Whatever you say,” Alina says with a giggle as she heads to the front door.
I shake my head, take a deep breath, and walk to the stairs.
Is this a bad idea?
Probably, but my feet start moving up the stairs like they have a mind of their own.
My heart is pounding as I reach the hallway, stop, and try to listen. I don’t hear anything.
“Tucker?” I call out. Still no answer.
I start to get worried. His injuries did look pretty serious. Maybe something happened. Maybe he needs my help.
I head down the hall and peek into the master bedroom. It’s more furnished than the rest of the rooms with a dresser, a fireplace, and a giant bed with messy gray sheets. Jeez, is everything gray with this guy? This house desperately needs a pop of color.
“Tucker?”
The light in his ensuite bathroom is on. I really shouldn’t be in here, but I have to see if he’s okay. What if he slipped into a coma or something? I would feel horrible if something happened and I just left without helping.
I push the door open and walk to the bathroom.
“Tucker?” I say as I look in. “Are you okay?”
He’s lying in the bath with headphones in his ears. My brain tells me to leave, but my body keeps me rooted to the spot. I can’t take my eyes off him.
He looks comically large in that tub. His big hairy legs and strong arms are hanging out of it. The back of his head is resting on the ceramic edge with his eyes closed. He looks so peaceful. So calm. I want to see more of this side of him.
The water is all murky from the soap so nothing is showing that shouldn’t be.
“Tucker?” I say a little louder as I knock on the doorframe.
His eyes slowly open and he turns to me. His right eye is completely swollen over now. I doubt he can see anything from it.
He watches me as he takes the headphones out of his ears. He doesn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry to… I shouldn’t be here. I know, but I just… wanted to say thank you for lunch. That was sweet.”
He swallows and then nods slightly. “I’m sorry I was rude.”
“It’s okay,” I say, feeling my cheeks turning red. “I can see that you’re having a rough morning. Is your face hurting?”
He shrugs those big shoulders. “I’ll live.”
“Have you cleaned the wounds?”
“No.”
“Can I do it for you?” I ask.
He looks genuinely confused. “Why?”
“When I scraped my knee as a kid, my mom always cleaned it for me. It’s always a little easier when someone helps you heal, don’t you think? I cut my hand last year when I was cooking and I really wished my mom was there to help.”
He runs a wet hand through his messy brown hair and I get a little shiver at the sight of his huge tricep. This man must be the strongest person I’ve ever met.
