Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
He grabbed my hand again, pulling me back to him.
I turned with the pull, not wanting him to exert any effort.
He stared at me for a long time, like all he wanted was to look at me, to see my eyes looking back into his. “Tell me you love me…” His fingers gripped my wrist, like he wasn’t going to let me go until he got what he wanted.
I stared into his eyes as I breathed hard, felt the catharsis hit me all at once. All the anger I’d felt toward him was gone, like I’d forgiven him without actually saying the words. Now I felt every emotion with intensity, felt my extinguished fire rekindle into a blaze. The numbness was gone, and now all I could do was feel…feel everything. “I love you.”
It was a long week for Heath.
He spent most of his time sleeping, and if he wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t talking. He didn’t even want the TV on, like the battle against his pain was all he could focus on at the time. He was always eager for his medication, impatient for the next dose when the previous one wore off.
I never left the house, didn’t even go to work, because I wanted to be at his side.
I made him a sandwich with a bowl of applesauce and left the plate on his nightstand. It seemed like he was asleep, and anytime he was resting, I never wanted to disturb him since he did most of his healing when he was unconscious.
But he must have heard me because he opened his eyes. He stared at me, saying nothing.
I knew Heath was in a lot of pain because he didn’t make any sarcastic jokes, didn’t tease me, didn’t say anything at all.
That worried me most of all.
He closed his eyes again, sighing. “I really want to take a shower…” He had a binder wrapped around his ribs, stitches in places where the wound was too wide to cover with a simple bandage. He’d improved over the last week, but he was still a mess.
“You think you can stand?”
He considered the question for a long time before he answered. “Not long…”
“How about a bath?”
He smiled slightly, the first time one had covered his lips in many days. “Are you gonna give me this bath?”
“Yeah.”
“Not gonna say no to that…”
“Let me get it ready.” I went into the bathroom and ran the water in his enormous tub. He had a nearly empty bottle of body wash in his shower, so I dumped the rest out so I could use it to pour water over his body. Then I set a large towel on the ground so he wouldn’t slip and stacked towels at the edge of the tub so his neck would be supported.
Then I returned to the bedroom. “It’s ready.”
He slowly got out of bed, taking it one step at a time. He let his feet rest against the rug for a moment before he stood, wincing slightly at the movement. Then he was still, testing his own strength, before he started to walk.
I held his arm as I walked him into the bathroom. I took off the binder around his ribs and then grabbed his boxers and pulled them off, ignoring his nakedness like it was inappropriate to look.
He stepped into the tub then slowly lowered himself, using the handle on the side to get into the water. The water immediately rose as his body displaced the volume, and his neck settled onto the stack of towels. He closed his eyes and sighed, like he was comfortable.
I grabbed the shampoo and squirted it into my hands before I rubbed my fingers into his hair, washing away all the oil that had collected throughout the week.
He kept his eyes closed, comfortable like he enjoyed it.
I poured the water over his head and down the back of his neck, washing away all the suds. Then I grabbed a loofah and started to rub his injured parts, cleaning his neck, his shoulders his chest.
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
I sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing the wet loofah under the water to gently clean him, barely using any pressure because his body was a nightmare of bruises, cuts, and broken bones. It was hard to look at him, and sometimes I didn’t, but I couldn’t do it forever, not when it would take him a long time to look normal again.
I grabbed the face wash and handed it to him.
He squirted it into his hands and gently rubbed his face, lightly tracing the swelling and bruises. Then he splashed water on his face, washing everything away. He relaxed back against the towels then watched me, his hand rising out of the water and moving to mine. He just stared at me, like that was all he wanted to do. His blue eyes weren’t swollen shut anymore, so the beautiful color of his gaze was easy to see. He’d improved a bit, his face not so red and purple, but it would still be a long time before he wouldn’t need painkillers anymore.