Page 27 of Training the Heart

“I just … haven’t had anyone offer to take care of me for a long time … I don’t know what else to say, it just hit me that you didn’t hesitate,” she says, keeping her gaze fixed out the window.

How long has it been since someone cared for her? Fucking hell.

“Well, around here we take care of each other.”

She smiles through her tears as I bend down to look into her eyes. “You may be a slight pain in the ass right now, and way sappier than usual, but no burden on account of the ankle,” I say, offering her the bandana from my back pocket to dry her tears, which she takes eagerly and nods.

She blows out a raspberry. “Nothing like a mushy sweet pep talk from Wade Ashby to make a girl feel better,” she says.

At least her sass hasn’t left her with her injury.

“Alright, the sappiness is over. Just get me to bed,” she adds.

I say nothing else, ignoring that statement fully. I just wait awkwardly, turning on a lamp and closing her blinds as she dries her tears and pulls a brush through hair that’s so thick it’s still a bit damp as she pulls it from her scrunchie, then I help her into the bathroom so she can blow-dry it and get ready for bed.

Ivy leans on one crutch while drying as I grab her a washcloth and fresh toothbrush. She attempts to stand freely to do the back of her long hair then winces, settling back down on the crutch, muttering a few cuss words on the way as she can’t get into the right position.

“It’s fine, the rest will just dry while I sleep.” She smiles at me.

I grunt, done watching her struggle, and then move toward her.

“Let me,” I offer. “I have no idea what I’m doing but how hard can it be?” I shrug.

Ivy looks at me stunned for just a moment and then hands me the brush, an unsure look on her face. “Have at it, boss.” She smirks.

It feels like a challenge. She swivels her body around and I flick the blow dryer on. I pull the brush through her silky strands while fanning the dryer back and forth until her hair resembles a sugar-scented sheet that hangs down her back. Even the tanned tone of my hands is stark in comparison to her hair’s raven hues, and the urge I have to run my fingers through it and bring it to my face once it’s fully dry almost completely consumes me.

Once I put the dryer and brush away, Ivy fluffs her hair around her shoulders and smiles up at me. Oblivious to how she looks.

Downright fucking stunning.

“Bet you’ve never done that before.” She giggles.

“Fuck no, but I’m pretty fucking good at it if I do say so myself,” I say back.

“It’s impressive, my hair isn’t even frizzy,” she says, running a hand over it.

I clear my throat and throw out a practical excuse.

“Can’t go to bed with wet hair, you’ll catch a chill,” I offer.

She nods. I say nothing more, handing her the clothes, and passing her the toiletries I fetched for her earlier.

“I’ll give you some privacy and I’ll get your pillows set up. I’ll stay out here just in case you need anything I might have forgotten,” I tell her.

I set her bed up the way the diagram in the pamphlet shows, stacking a pillow between the sheets for her foot, to keep it elevated, and then I wait. I hear the water running for a few minutes and then it’s just silence. Ten minutes goes by where I internally argue with myself about knocking. My conscience wins and I’m just about to knock when I hear the door open,

I help her with it immediately. It’s when I pull it fully open, when I actually see her—in my sweatpants, the bottoms rolled up on her small frame, swimming in my t-shirt which looks way too good on her—that my breath involuntarily catches in my throat.

“The sweatpants are so big I couldn’t balance without the crutches long enough to pull them up and pull the drawstrings tight and tie them, they kept falling down,” she says and then shrugs. “It took me a few tries.”

I act as non-affected as possible by the idea of her pants,mypants, coming down around her ankles. Making my way over to her, I begin to help her move to the bed. It’s when we’re right beside it that she snags one of her crutches on the area rug and threatens to fall right over.

I catch her, with perfect timing but not before we tumble fully onto the bed. Ivy gasps as I cage her in below me so she isn’t jostled. This one second feels like a hundred with my arms around her, looking down at her below me, so vulnerable, so soft. Her lips pop open as she stares up at me. It’s this precise moment that my cock takes notice she’s pressed beneath me.

I clear my throat and separate from her before she can feel it, pulling her up to sit.

“Told you, accident-prone.” She smiles in apology.

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