Page 35 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
He smiles, “Doc here says I’ll be good as new in a few days.”
“Mr. Waters is a very good patient, and as long as he listens to doctor’s orders, he will be as good as new. But he needs to stay off his feet as much as reasonably possible,” she says.
I smile at Jordan. “Then you can spend more time on your back.”
“Maybe you can help with that,” he says, then winks at me.
“I just meant, uh,” I stammer, “that um, you can?—"
The doctor says, “I’ll leave you to it, then.” She packs her bag up and rejoins the team. Wes signs off on the paperwork, and they leave.
The sudden quiet is strange. No more agents. No more bad guys. Just the two of us. And the dogs. I sit next to him on the couch and we snuggle up in front of the lit Christmas tree again. The dogs are asleep by his feet, and I am safe in his arms. He smells manly and feels like home. Maybe for tonight, he is.
His deep voice rumbles, “You awake?”
“Mm, hmm.”
“Do you want to clean up now?”
“I want to pretend there isn’t blood and glass on my floors. I want to be magically transported to my bed, so I don’t even have to walk. And I want to sleep for a year. I haven’t been this tired in a very long time.”
He chuckles. “Well then, how about we clean all this up in the morning, and we sleep in as late as you want.”
“No magical transportation to the bed?” I whine.
“Seems unlikely.”
I shrug and smile. “Two out of three ain’t bad.” I stand up and reach a hand down for him.
Jordan takes it, then whisks up me in his arms, and winces.
I smack his shoulder, “Your feet! Put me down!”
“I’ll be fine.” He laughs. But then his body tenses up with pain.
“You’re a lunatic, you’re gonna hurt yourself. Let me go.”
“I’m never letting you go,” he says firmly. His tone is so serious that it takes my breath away. I wrap my arms around his neck and let him carry me to bed. Once we’re there, I call the dogs to the bedroom, and Jordan asks, “I thought you preferred they sleep downstairs.”
I shake my head. “Not with all that blood and glass everywhere.” I toss a few extra blankets into the corner for them, and the pair trot into the bedroom. They happily snuggle into the blankets and each other. It brings a smile to my face. “That’s better.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t mind them being in here?”
“To be honest, Max usually sleeps with me. He’s not a great sleeper, usually kicks a lot, so I apologize in advance for any noise.”
Max yawns, then gives us a look, as though we’re the ones making too much noise. Then, he snuggles Sugar again.
I tell Jordan, “He’s a hero, like his dad. He can make all the noise he wants.”
Jordan, plainly uncomfortable with the hero label, smiles, then looks away. “I’m gonna get ready for bed, then.” He walks to the bathroom, and it’s hard to watch. Each footstep makes his back tense up. I know it hurts him to walk, and I cringe when I see his pain.
After we both clean up, we bed down for what’s left of the night. Sleep is so much easier with Jordan in my bed, and two snoring dogs. I shouldn’t feel this close to him this soon, but I do. Everything in my bedroom feels exactly the way it should be. And maybe it’s the shared trauma speaking, but this feels like something more than…whatever it is.
Is it too late to stop all of this with him? Should I? I don’t want to stop. I like having him and Max with me and Sugar.
But last night, he could have been killed trying to protect me, so maybe I should reconsider our involvement. Am I being selfish to make him risk his life for me? How would I feel, if something were to happen to him?
