Page 156 of Time Stops With You

My heart tightens in my chest. “Cullen.”

“You’re not going to keep babying me, are you?” He leans forward, a hint of a smile on his lips. “If you still think I can’t handle myself, we can go back to the bathroom and start running the tub.”

A thrill runs down my spine, but I force myself not to react to that.

Asad’s voice rings through the house. “Youmustbe Nardi’s mom. You two look exactly alike!”

Cullen jerks his chin at the living room. “I should go before Asad starts flirting with your mom.”

My legs refuse to move.

My heart screams that I shouldn’t let him go.

Cullen takes my uninjured hand and pulls me closer. A moment later, I’m wrapped in his arms. As usual, he’s careful about my wrist brace and there’s also a big bowl of soup, so he doesn’t hug me too tightly.

Easing back, Cullen places a kiss on my temple and then waits until I look up at him to say, “The truce is over. Don’t look at me with those eyes anymore.”

My nostrils flare and the strange, heavy emotion is back, an elephant sitting on my chest.

Cullen walks past me and greets Asad and Dr. Young. The two men offer to help him walk, but he stubbornly insists on leaving on his own two feet.

The door clicks shut.

I dig my fingers into the tray and, after a moment of indecision, I storm back to the kitchen.

“Who were those men?” Mom asks.

I barely hear her. I toss the soup in the sink and then I’m running to the door.

What I see yanks the breath from my lungs. Cullen had moved at a brisk pace, standing tall as he’d left my apartment. But now, he has both arms hooked around Asad and Dr. Young’s shoulders. Each step seems labored and he’s moving at a snail’s pace.

He hid that pain from me.

He hid it toprotectme.

This time, the tears that well refuse to be denied. I turn away from the sight and let the door close softly behind me.

I don’t want Cullen to know that I saw him in that state. He went through a lot of effort to give me a happier impression.

“Nardi?” Mom comes up to me softly. Her hand slides over my shoulder. “Baby, why are you crying?”

“Because I hate him,” I whisper.

Mom’s eyes widen.

“I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate him, mom.”

“Oh baby.” She curves her hand around my neck and pulls my face against her shoulder. My tears seep into the sleeve of her blouse. “You and that big heart of yours, girl.”

I wrap my arms around my mother, squeezing her tight.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, Nardi.” Mom slides her hand down my back, whispering soothing words.

After a long while, I regain control of myself and wipe under my eyes.

“Feel better?”

“I feel embarrassed.” I sniff.

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