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While Tortellini stuffed his face, I went about emptying my bags and getting everything in order. I wasn’t sure if Alma would be able to eat anything yet, so I poured a single serving of the soup into a bowl and stowed that in the fridge, then put the container that held the rest in the freezer just as Ms. M. had instructed.
I read the back of each box diligently and took out what I needed before heading into Alma’s room.
She was still passed out in the bed where I left her earlier, only it looked like she had thrashed around in her sleep while trying to get comfortable. She lay on her stomach, her arms stretched out at her sides, her face smushed into her pillow. Her lips were slightly parted, creating a rattling snore with each inhale. Her long dark hair was draped over her pillow in long, tangled strands.
The big downy comforter had been kicked onto the floor, and the sheets no longer covered her, but were twisted around her long, bare legs. The T-shirt of mine she’d been wearing when I first showed up had ridden up at some point, revealing a simple pair of white cotton panties against her smooth, tanned skin. I silently cursed my dick for stirring at the sight of her.
Now was most definitely not the time for me to appreciate her form, not when she was in such a vulnerable state, so as hard as it was, I ripped my gaze off her ass and sat the pills and liquid medicine cups on the bedside table beside the thermometer so I could free her from the sheet and pull it back over her body. The second the fabric hit her skin, she stirred, batting at it and rolling to her side.
“Shh,” I soothed, reaching out to brush her hair back from her forehead. I fucking hated seeing her like this. She looked so miserable, and all I wanted to do was make it better for her. “It’s okay, Freckles. I got you.”
Her eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing their gorgeous brown, glassy with fever and sickness.
“Roan?” she asked in a whispered croak.
Unable to help myself, I lowered to sitting on the side of the bed. It was impossible for me to be this close to her and not want to touch her, so even though I had no right, I brushed the pad of my thumb against her cheekbone. I smiled down at her. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Her eyelids drooped like they had heavy weights attached to them, but she tried her best to force them back open. “It’s not a dream?” she murmured, the slurring speech telling me she wasn’t awake all the way.
“No, baby. It’s not a dream. I’m right here, and I got some medicine you need to take, okay? But first I have to take your temperature.”
I grabbed the thermometer and pressed it to her forehead. She made a small noise of protest as her eyes fell closed again.
The number hadn’t gone down, so I grabbed the Tylenol first and cupped my hand at the back of her neck in order to ease her up.
“Come on, Alma. I need to you wake up just long enough to take your medicine, okay? Then you can go back to sleep.”
A little whimper escaped her lips and damn near gutted me, but she cooperated enough for me to get the pills down her, along with some flu meds and a couple sips of Pedialyte.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath through the whole ordeal until it was over and I lowered her back onto her pillow. I leaned closer, running the backs of my knuckles across her jaw. “You’ll be okay, Freckles,” I whispered softly, willing the words to be true. “You’re gonna be just fine.”
Her brows pinched together in a deep frown, but her eyes never opened as she shifted beneath the blanket, trying to get comfortable. “Roan,” she said in a hushed voice. “You’re really here.”
My lips curved upward as I cupped her cheek. “I’m really here. And I’m never leaving you again.”
I kept waiting for that frown of hers to disappear, but it only deepened. “You broke me,” she mumbled, still mostly asleep. “Loved you. And you broke me.”
It felt like someone had reached into my chest and was squeezing my heart in their fist. Fuck, but hearing that hurt. I’d been stupid to think that ten years might have been enough time to make the wounds of the past fade. She was still as raw as I was. Because we were meant for each other. Our souls fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, but I’d ripped us apart. There was no healing a wound like that.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. That I destroyed us. But I swear on my life, I’m going to make everything right.”
She didn’t respond. The only sounds were those small, chuffing snores telling me she was out again.
I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at her sleeping form as the pain I’d caused us both radiated deep in my bones. Eventually, Tortellini entered the room, and against all odds and the laws of gravity, managed to jump onto the bed. He curled himself into another fat ball in the bend of Alma’s knees, and passed out from a food coma.
I would have been content to sit there all day and night, but I was forced to get up and leave the room when my phone started to ring from my back pocket.
I moved fast, pulling her bedroom door partially closed and moving down the hall to the living room as I pulled the phone out.
I swiped to answer it quickly, ready to tell off whoever was on the other end. “Hello?”
“Mr. Blackwell. My name is Jerry Kent. I’ve been trying to reach you for a couple weeks now. I’ve spoken to members of your team, but I’m not sure my messages have been getting through to you. I’m the executor of your father’s estate.”
At those words, my blood turned to ice. “No offense, Mr. Kent, but this is a private number, and you shouldn’t have it,” I gritted out, no politeness in my tone whatsoever.
“Oh, um... well, I do apologize. I spoke with a man by the name of ”—there was a pause and a ruffle of papers—“Cal Stark. He’s the one who gave me this number. Assured me I’d be able to reach you here.”
I mentally added a tally mark on the cons side of the list I was keeping in my head on whether or not Cal was worth keeping around.
