Page 115 of Breakaway Hearts

“Reese.” I know protesting won’t do any good. He’s stubborn as hell. And caring. And I’m pretty sure that—along with so many other things—is the reason I’m falling for him.

“I’ll text your mom,” he says. “Let her know you’re being discharged. She’ll want to see you before I take you back home, I’m sure.”

I nod, a lump burning in my throat for this man. For the man who ran to my rescue, who abandoned everything just to make sure I was okay. For the man I’m falling in love with, but who may not love me back.

“Alright, Firefly.” He helps me to my feet and grabs my clothes, which sit in a big plastic bag at the foot of the bed. “Let’s get you dressed and then get the hell out of here.”

* * *

“Okay, bacon and eggs, slightly overripe cantaloupe, lightly toasted wheat bread, and some herbal tea, with a glass of orange juice on the side.”

Reese sets the breakfast tray over my legs in bed. Next to the plates and mugs is a small vase with a single daisy in it. I shake my head, but I can’t help grinning at this simple gesture.

Well,simpleis the wrong word. Reese has been over-the-top since we got back from the hospital several days ago. I’m already feeling loads better, but he hardly lets me get out of bed. Only to go to the bathroom and shower, and for the most part, he’s been within calling distance for those things as well.

There’s no stopping the guy.

It’s amazing.

A little stifling.

But amazing, more than anything else.

“Oh, and…” He straightens, pulling a massive bag of Twizzlers out from behind his back. “How could I forget? An after breakfast dessert.”

“You’re spoiling me,” I warn.

“Feeding you isn’t spoiling you. It’s taking care of you.”

I grin at his semantic argument, accepting the Twizzlers when he hands them over. I can finally smile without it hurting. I can do most things without it hurting, actually. The doctor said it might take a week or so for the concussion to resolve itself, and we’re almost at that checkpoint. But until then…

“Only a few more days before you can get out of bed,” Reese tells me with a sigh.

“You say that like you wish I’d be stuck here longer.”

“What can I say?” He sits on the bed next to me and grabs a piece of cantaloupe out of the bowl. “I like waiting on you hand and foot. It’s kind of sexy. Very sexy. And I love having you in my bed. But mostly, I don’t want you to strain or hurt yourself.” He taps my nose and stands back up. “I know you like to push yourself hard, but let me take care of you this time. I’ve got you.”

“Thanks,” I murmur. “But I think I can get out of bed now.”

“Nope.”

“Yes!” I insist with a laugh. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

“Actually…” Reese gives me an enigmatic look. Then he strides out of the bedroom and drags in a hefty box. “I think I can.”

“What are you—”

I gasp when he opens the box, revealing a ton of new romance novels. My eyes scan the titles as my jaw drops open. Some of them I've never heard of, and some are books I’ve been wanting to read.

How did he know that? I feel like I just put them on my TBR list a few days ago, and he’s already nabbed them for me.

“I anticipated your stubborn nature.” He sets one of the paperbacks on the bed beside me. “And I knew I had to take drastic measures to ensure your health and wellness.” Another book. “So. The deal is, you get to have these books so long as you stay in bed until we’re sure the concussion is healed up. Otherwise…” He stops with a third book hovering over the stack. “I’m returning them.”

“You wouldn’t!” I say with a mock gasp, resting a protective hand over the books. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay in bed.”

“Good girl.” He runs a single lock of my hair through his fingers, gently but possessively, and I pretend that this simple gesture doesn’t turn me on. If he won’t even let me walk to the kitchen on my own, he definitely won’t have sex with me.

And besides, I’m not sure he’d want to anyway.

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