Page 28 of Someone to Watch Over Me

“I don’t expect you to take care of me.”

“Why not? You’ve been taking care of me since the day I moved in.”

“You’ve already been a caretaker.”

“This is very different from that. Trust me. I can handle it.”

“But do you want to?”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you get back to full health. Knowing that’s possible makes this different as night and day from what I went through before.”

“I’ll have visiting nurses coming in when I get home.”

“Then I’ll provide company and anything else you want or need for as long as you need it.”

“It’s important to me that you know I don’t expect that of you.”

“I know.” She smiles, and for the first time since disaster struck, the smile lights up her gorgeous eyes.

I turn my hand over and curl it around hers. “I can’t wait to be back at home with you.”

“I can’t wait for that either.”

7

Lexi

For the first time in a while, I’ve been counting the days until the regular Wednesday night meeting of the Wild Widows. I’m usually more of a listener than a talker at the meetings, but this week… This week, I’ve got stuff to say. My emotions have been all over the place, the way they were when Jim was first diagnosed and then later as I saw him through hospice and the final days of his life.

I hardly welcome the return of wild emotions, even if almost everything about this situation is different than it was then.

I’ve come to vastly prefer a calm, quiet, peaceful life where my emotions are more of a straight line rather than the ragged ups and downs they’ve been this week.

Tom is due to be released from the hospital on Friday. He’ll be partaking in cardiac rehab and will be closely monitored by his new cardiologist, but otherwise, he’s on the road to a complete recovery, which is a huge relief.

Even with nothing but good news coming from his doctors, I can’t seem to shake the overwhelming dread that comes over me any time I recall the scene that greeted me the night I found him in distress. I see him on the floor and break into a cold sweat every time. I try not to think about it, but the memory comes to me whether I want it to or not.

I can’t stop thinking about how close he came to dying without feeling as if I’m going to be sick.

It’s been three days since that night in the hospital when he told me he has feelings for me that go beyond friendship. And it’s not lost on me that the wild emotional outbreak indicates that I probably have similar feelings for him.

Feelings.

I hate that word.

It’s so stupid, and so is the song of the same name that my mother used to listen to on repeat when I was a kid.

By the time I get to Iris’s house, I’m in a pisser of a mood and ready to let loose about the bullshit that comes with havingfeelingsfor someone who almost died.

“Hey,” Iris says when I come in carrying the buffalo chicken dip I brought to share. “I tried to call you earlier to see how you’re doing.”

“I got your message, but work was crazy today, and I had to run home before I came here.”

“No worries.” She takes a measuring look at me. “How are you holding up?”

“Just great.”

“Uh-oh.”

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