Page 182 of California Wild

“Jesse, I can walk,” she said, though her protest held no real conviction.

He ignored her, carrying her back to the bed like she weighed nothing, like it wasn’t even a question, and set her down with the kind of careful precision that made her stomach tighten—not from nausea this time, but from something else entirely.

“Stay here,” he said softly, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. His fingers lingered for just a second longer than necessary, his touch gentle, reverent. “I’ll get you some water.”

She blinked up at him, her chest tight, her emotions strangling her from the inside out.

Because Jesse had always been like this.

Rough, reckless, a storm no one could contain—but when it came to her, when it came to moments like this, he was something else. Something softer. Something steadier. A quiet kind of devotion, buried beneath all the sharp edges.

She curled deeper into the blankets as he left the room, her limbs heavy, the exhaustion pressing into her bones like lead.

A minute later, he returned, barefoot and shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. His muscles flexed as he reached for her nightstand, golden hair tousled from sleep, his movements fluid, effortless.

And she was so damn tired she could barely admire it.

“Here,” he said, setting down a glass of water and a handful of crackers.

She forced herself to sit up against the pillows, her fingers curling around the glass, sipping slowly. Jesse sat beside her, smoothing a hand over her hair, watching her in that way he always did—like he was memorizing every detail, like she was something precious.

“You want coffee?” he asked.

She groaned. “God, no.”

He smirked. “Figured. What about toast? Yogurt? Something?”

Her stomach twisted at the thought. “Jesse, I love you, but if you make me eat, I might actually throw you out the window.”

She hadn’t even registered what she’d said until she felt him freeze beside her.

Then—

A slow chuckle, deep and warm, like she hadn’t just thrown a grenade between them.

“Who, me?” he said, feigning innocence. “You can’t be talking about me.”

“Yes, you.” She peeked up at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Baby, the only thing I’m enjoying is the part where I get to take care of you.” He stood, stretching, his abs tightening with the movement. “So, you’re getting dry toast and some ginger tea. Something easy to digest.”

She groaned again but didn’t argue.

Because the truth was—she loved this. Loved him like this. Soft and steady, completely in control, taking care of her in ways she never even asked for.

A few minutes later, he walked back in, a plate of toast in one hand, a steaming mug of tea in the other.

“Hospital food, right?” he teased as he sat beside her again.

She smiled, blowing on the tea, sipping it. Warm, honey-sweet, perfect.

He studied her for a while, just watching.

There was a calmness between them, an unspoken truce.

Then—Jesse tilted his head slightly, eyes dark, thoughtful. “You said you love me.”

Hayley blinked, realizing. “Yes, I did.”

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