Page 86 of A Love That Broke Us
“But you love New Year’s. You love parties.”
I pull back slightly, brows pinching. I’m genuinely confused. This is the third time he’s bailed early on a party since Halloween. And that’s not like him.
He shifts his weight, wincing, and concern flickers through me. “Is your knee hurting again?”
He hesitates for a beat, then exhales in frustration. “Yeah. It’s been giving me a hard time the past few days. But I can just sit the rest of the night. I’ll be fine.”
I reach for his hand. “No. It’s okay. If you’re hurting, we can go.”
“Nah, babe, I don’t want to ruin your night.”
“You’re not.” I give his hand a soft squeeze. “All I really need is to be with you. It’s fine.”
He studies me for a second, eyes scanning mine like he’s making sure I mean it. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. Let’s say our goodbyes and grab our coats.”
The relief on his face is immediate—subtle, but unmistakable. His shoulders ease, and his jaw unclenches as we turn to go.
We make our rounds, exchanging quick goodbyes and polite hugs, and grab our coats. As we head toward the elevators, I glance over at him, and I can’t help it. Something in my chest pulls tight. This isn’t just about a party.
As we head outsideto wait for our Uber, my mind spins with worry. Jensen hasn’t said anything about his knee in weeks. AfterHalloween, he had an MRI, got an injection, started physical therapy. I guess it’s been a few months since then, maybe the injection is wearing off.
It makes me anxious. I know he’s a guy—wants to seem tough, doesn’t like to complain or let anything slow him down. But God, it’s concerning. For a while he was taking ibuprofen around the clock, and that’s not exactly healthy.
Now, it’s starting to affect his social life. That’s what worries me the most. Jensen is the life of the party. Who am I kidding—heisthe party. He thrives around people, and people are drawn to him.
It’s New Year’s Eve, and he wants to go home. I can’t even wrap my head around that.
We slide into the backseat of the Uber, and his hand lands on my thigh, giving it a squeeze. He tips his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes.
I watch him, becauseGod,he’s handsome. His brows pinch together like he’s in pain, and I want nothing more than to take it away. I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his, giving it a squeeze. He squeezes back, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but he keeps his eyes closed.
The ride is mostly quiet, aside from the occasional question from the driver and soft music in the background. By the time we get to Michael’s, it’s eleven-thirty, and Jensen heads straight for the bedroom. I follow close behind.
The second we’re inside, he’s already digging through his backpack. He pulls out the bottle of ibuprofen and turns his back to me as he shakes some into his hand.
“Do you need some water?” I ask.
He glances over his shoulder. “No, I’m fine,” he says, popping the pills into his mouth and swallowing them dry.
“Do you think you need another injection?”
“I’ll be fine, Alley.” His voice is sharp. Irritated.
I let it roll off me, even though it stings. He must really be hurting, because Jensen never gets short with me.
“Babe,” I say softly, stepping toward him. “What can I do? How can I help?”
I come up behind him, placing my hands on his back and running them slowly over the broad, thick muscles, across his shoulders, and down his arms. I press a kiss between his shoulder blades, breathing him in, my heart cracking a little for him.
He draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then he turns, pulling me into his arms. He kisses the top of my head and rests his chin there. “Nothing… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. You being here is enough.” He swallows, hard. “I’m sorry I made you leave the party early.”
“It’s okay. I just want you to be okay. I’m worried about you.”
He exhales sharply, the breath warm against my hair. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Everything’s good.”
“Okay.” I step back gently. “I think I’m going to take a bath, wind down a bit.”
