Page 60 of Fumbled Beginning

She pointed to the pills in my palm. “Why don’t you swallow those first, and then we’ll talk about a sponge bath, Mr. Watson.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

She rolled her eyes and placed her hand against my forehead. “You definitely have a fever. Let’s give the medicine a few minutes to kick in and drink this Gatorade.” She pulled out the purple bottle, and I smiled because that was my favorite flavor. “Then I’ll help you in the shower.”

“Is that a nice way of saying I stink?”

“Honey, your entire house stinks. Do you have any scented candles that I can light?”

“I can’t say that I do, but there is a can of Lysol under the kitchen sink.”

She walked to the kitchen, and I watched her shuffle through cabinets. After spending a few minutes looking over my bare shelves, she placed her hands on her hips and spun around.

“I forgot to get crackers for the soup. You have no food. I’ll have to run to the store.”

“You don’t have to run anywhere. I have some protein bars in the garage.”

“You can’t live off protein bars. That’s just sad.” She grabbed a bowl and utensils and placed them on the coffee table. She flipped the lid off the soup and fed me a spoonful. My taste buds weren’t a hundred percent, but the warm chicken broth felt good going down.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone took care of me. Sure, I had a woman who came in once a week and cleaned, but only because I paid her to. A neighbor down the street owned a landscaping company and looked after my yard. And in return, I gave him seats to every home game. So, he didn’t count either. The guys on the team would stop by and check in, but they wouldn’t think to show up at my door with soup and medicine when I was sick.

The only person who would do that was someone who genuinely cared about me.

“Thank you for all this,” I said in between bites. “I’m sure there are a million other things you could be doing.”

Her smile was automatic. “Taking care of you and making sure you get better is my number one priority.”

I reached for her hand. “I’m grateful that you’re here.”

She squeezed my fingers. “Ready for that shower now, stinky?”

I laughed as she tried to help me up and led me to the shower. I was capable of doing more than she knew, but I didn’t see the harm in milking my situation for a little extra TLC.

There was nothing sexual about how she helped me wash myself, which was a damn shame if you asked me. My dick apparently agreed with me because he was getting ideas of his own.

After a good scrub down, I wrapped Rylee up in my arms. “Can you stay here tonight, or do you need to get home to Oakley?”

“I was thinking of staying, but would you mind if I went home and got him?”

“Of course not. You’re always welcome to bring him.”

“Thank you.” She kissed the corner of my mouth. “Let’s get you situated on the couch before I leave. I can always pick up dinner on my way back if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Sounds good.” I pulled her in for a deeper kiss. “Just nothing too heavy for me.”

“Got it.” She raced across the room to slip her shoes on. “Why don’t you pick out a movie and text me if you think of anything else. I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

A few hours later, we were cuddled on the couch with Oakley, passed out at our feet. The food, shower, and change of clothes had me feeling a lot better, but my eyelids still felt heavy. All I wanted to do was lie with her and sleep.

Rylee’s head was resting on my chest, her leg was wrapped over mine, and I’d never felt so content in my life.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. I grabbed it, flipped the screen over, and frowned. “Why is Dominick calling you?”

She lifted off my chest and silenced her phone. “Probably something work-related.”

“Probably?” I scooted back on the couch to put a little space between us so I could look at her. “Work related?” I looked at the time. “At ten thirty at night?”

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