Page 26 of Training the Heart

“It’s the easiest way. I have two bedrooms. You’ll even have your own bathroom. Just until you’re on your feet of course, a week tops. I never even use that side of the house. There are crutches at the big house already from when CeCe was a teenager. They’ll fit you just right, I’m sure. You can use those when you need … er … privacy, the facilities and what not.”

Smooth, Wade.

The last thing I need is her in my space tempting me even more than she already does, but apparently I’m a sucker for punishment.

“I need you to be better, so ithasto be this way. We have to be in Nashville in less than two weeks.” Am I going overboard acting like she needs twenty-four-hour care for a sprained ankle? Probably, but no going back now.

She still doesn’t speak and I wonder if I just crossed a line.

“You can’t be on your own, and if we’re being real, hobbling around your own place will probably just offer you another way to take yourself out,” I bite out, using my dad’s voice, the one none of us ever argued with.

Again, real smooth, Wade. Christ. What the fuck am I doing?

I stand quickly and scrub my face with my hand, ready to apologize for making her uncomfortable.

“Okay. I’m not going to argue with you,” she says quietly.

Oh.

“I need the help, doctor’s orders, and I want to be in top shape to go to Nashville and this stupid mistake was my fault so … okay, I’ll stay with you.” She blinks and then gives me a shy smile. “Roomie?” she adds.

The grateful, melty look on her face sucker punches me right in the chest.

“Okay,” I say, nodding my head. I haven’t thought this far ahead, so I move robotically, helping her into the wheelchair the hospital has provided to get her to my truck.

A million thoughts race through my head, the most prevalent one being …I am entirely fucked.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wade

“I’ll leave early, but I’ll be back every day by noon to make sure you get lunch and then again by dinner. I’ll let everyone know in the morning that you’ll be away for the rest of the week. I’ll handle everything you were supposed to do for the next few days. This is your space, I’m just down the hall but you shouldn’t hear me on this side of the cabin,” I say as I follow Ivy to the other side of the living area.

She’s using the crutches we grabbed from the big house and they do fit her perfectly. The second bedroom and bathroom at the end of the short hallway are neutral, spacious and useless to me. In years past, other bosses have had kids that needed the space. For me, it was a space my mother could go to town on, testing out her hand at making it look like it belonged on some decorating show she watches.

“This is so pretty,” Ivy says, sounding surprised and taking a glance out the window. “I’ll do all the things this brochure says,” she adds, holding up the pamphlet the doctor gave her. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time, and I will be ready for next weekend. Even if I’m still on crutches.” She smiles at me, a rueful smile.

“I’ll show you the bathroom,” I say, averting my eyes from hers like an awkward motherfucker. It’s fairly large for a second bathroom, redone by Cole like the rest of the cabins a couple of years ago. The shower is spacious and has a comfortable shower bench built right in and a removable sprayer for her to use. The glass door will allow easy access. It really is the best place she can be this week.

Ivy’s temporary room is all soft blues and creams in the bedding and curtains, with a wrought iron bed frame surrounding a comfortable bed. There’s a tiny antique desk in front of the window looking out to Sugarland Mountain in the distance and our pastures, as well as a small dresser and matching antique ivory mirror, and a wingback chair complete with throw cushions and a fuzzy blanket strewn over the arm.

“This is perfect.” She breathes out a sigh of what I can only guess is relief, then sits down in the chair in her room.

“If you need anything, just let me know—as much as possible, especially for the first day or two.”

She places a hand on my forearm. “Thank you, Wade, I mean it. Thank you.”

I nod and pull my arm away, looking to the living room like a nervous teenage fool.

“Let’s get your things from your cabin in the morning. Right now, you need some pain meds and some sleep.” It’s after midnight, she must be wrecked, and I’m wrecked after being awake for almost twenty hours.

“Stay put, I’ll be right back,” I say to her.

She looks up at me with tired eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, but if you leave me here too long I might fall asleep right in this chair.” She yawns as she finishes her sentence.

I make quick work of grabbing a few necessities. Some ibuprofen, a cold bottle of water, one of my t-shirts, a pair of my sweatpants that will be way too big for her but they’ll be warm inmy chilly old cabin, my brush, and a hairdryer I don’t even think I’ve ever even plugged in let alone turned on.

When I return, she’s sniffing quietly, looking out the window and crying, which is the last thing I am ever prepared to deal with. I hate when women cry.

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