Page 31 of Where We Bloom

“I’ll be fine.” I move to the side of the bed and let my feet dangle, but I don’t stand yet.

I’m not convinced I won’t fall on my face, and that would be humiliating.

“We can move downstairs,” he suggests softly, as if he’s hoping I’ll stay with him. “Watch a movie and eat something while you get your strength back.”

“Connor.” I clear my throat, and he doesn’t say anything, just listens. “I appreciate your help more than you know. I hate to think—well, I won’t even say it out loud. Thank you for everything. I mean that. And I really,really”—my voice hitches—“don’t want to be a bitch to you because you’ve been so nice to me, but I’m in a super pissy mood right now, and I don’t feel good. I need to go home. Please, take me home. Or have Miller drive me.”

He's quiet for a minute, then he lets out a gusty breath. I feel him stand from the bed and hear him pad around to me, where he squats and cups my cheek, making me look him in the face.

“Promise me you’ll call one of your brothers or Dani, or Skyla, to come be with you.”

I want to tell him to piss off but remind myself that he saved my ass last night.

Maybe my life.

So I take a deep breath.

“I will. Blake will probably want to come check me out.”

He searches my eyes for a minute and nods. “Okay. You wear that shirt home. I’ll get you some shorts. Don’t move.”

He kisses my forehead as he stands, then he’s gone. When he returns, he’s put on jeans and a T-shirt.

Connor’s usually in dressier clothes, and every time I see him dressed casually, it makes my loins stand up and applaud.

Even when I feel like I’m half dead.

“Here.” He holds the black workout shorts out for me to step into. With my hands braced on his shoulders, I stand, and he works them up over my hips.

I’m standing here in his T-shirt, his shorts, and my thong from last night.

“Where’s my dress?”

“I have it,” he replies. “I’d like you to drink the rest of this bottle of water before we go.”

“I’ll take it with me.”

He starts to argue as he stands, and I take his hand in mine, holding on tight, silently begging him to understand.

“Ineedto go home.” It’s a whispered plea. “Please, Connor.”

His jaw tightens. “Then I’ll take you home, angel.”

He honestly needs to stop being nice because I really just want to cry. And that’s not helping.

Connor doesn’t release my hand as we walk slowly through the house. I get glimpses of wood beams and gleaming floors. Beautiful furniture. A stunning kitchen.

When we get to the front door, he helps me into my shoes from last night and leads me out to his SUV.

“These heels go with the shorts so well,” I mutter and glance over to see Connor’s half smile.

“My shoes are too big for you,” he says. “But I’ll get you some if you want them.”

“No. I’m just going home anyway.”

I lean my head back and close my eyes as he takes off down the driveway. I can tell he’s going slow, taking the turns carefully. I want to look in the side mirror to see what his house looks like, but I just don’t have the energy.

It doesn’t matter.

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