Page 98 of Catching Feelings

“No.” I’ve torn my rotator cuff and dislocated my shoulder more times than I can count, which aren’t as painful as the ACL, but I don’t tell her this. It’s a painful surgery and a long ass recovery, and I empathize with my teammates who have had similar injuries, but Rowan’s sister isn’t eliciting any empathy from me right now.

“You have an athletic build. So tall and so many muscles. Do you do something physical in your job?”

Hell. Do I have a sign on my forehead that says,flirt with me? I never noticed how many women hit on me until Rowan came into my life. And left it.

“Let me help you to the couch,” I say instead of responding to her question.

There’s a pile of pillows where she’s been elevating her leg and a medical ice pack on the floor.

“You’re so sweet.” She waits for me to...to what, I have no idea. She’s on crutches. It’s not like she needs me to carry her or anything.

I follow behind her and take the crutches from her when she sinks into the cushions, then adjust the pillows under her knee.

“Wow. I could get used to this treatment. Good men are hard to find. And I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Miles. I assume Rowan’s been taking good care of you.”

“A little. I’m left alone all day to fend for myself though, and this couch is so damn small and uncomfortable. You wouldn’t even fit on it, you’re so big.”

I don’t tell her I’ve sat on it before. With Rowan. On my lap.

“I’m sure you’re ready to head back to your place instead of sleeping on this couch for the past week.”

“Oh, there’s no way I could sleep out here. I sleep in Rowan’s bed at night. I just come out here during the day. I can’t say much for her apartment, but her bed is Heaven.”

Yeah. No shit.

“Glad there’s room for you both.”

Natalie snorts. “The way Rowan thrashes in her sleep? I can’t risk her kicking me as she tosses and turns.”

I open my mouth to argue that Rowan doesn’t thrash. She passes out on my chest or on her side as I cradle her into my chest.

But if Rowan isn’t sleeping in her bed, that means she’s been cramped on this tiny-ass couch for the past seven nights. Fucking bullshit.

“Sorry it took so long,” Rowan says as she comes through the door and heads straight to the kitchen. “There was a line at Noodles, even though I ordered before I left here, and then there was a mix up at Thai—” she turns and notices me. “Miles?”

“Hey.” I tuck my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what I’m doing. What to say. I want to reprimand her for letting her sister walk all over her—even with the bum knee—but not here. Not in front of Natalie.

I want to scoop her into my arms and bring her back to my place. I want to kiss her until we both can’t breathe. I want to—

“Miles?” she says again.

“I haven’t eaten all day. Are you going to bring me my food or are you making me hobble into the kitchen to get it?” Natalie whines.

Calling it a kitchen is almost laughable. Rowan’s apartment is technically a studio, but the thin wall that sections off the other room that’s barely big enough for the bed makes it a one bedroom. But kitchen? My microwave from college would take up the entire counter space.

“Sorry.” Rowan unpacks the food and makes a plate for her sister, then carries it over to her.

“Oh my God. I’m not a pig. I can’t eat all of this. My stomach isn’t as big as yours.”

“I’ll put back whatever you don’t eat.”

“Take it away.” Natalie shoos her away. “I can’t eat in front of people if they’re not eating.”

What a bitch.

“Your body needs fuel to heal. Eat up. I’ll stay for dinner, if that’s okay.” I give her a polite smile, which encourages her to take the plate.

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