* * *
“Come here a minute.” Issy patted the sofa. It was late afternoon and Caley had just finished work. Archer had given some bullshit excuse about chopping some kindling in order to give them space.
She sat next to him and he placed the heat pack on her lap. She put her hands down and he wrapped it around them. He really needed to get her onto doing more dictation.
Small steps.
He’d already started restricting her work hours. He knew it was a risky move. It could backfire on him. But so far, she’d reacted well. She was already looking better just from a couple of days of only eight hours behind her computer as well as better sleep.
So far, his bedtime routine for her seemed to be helping her sleep issues. But he was aware that he still had a way to go to get her health to optimum. She was still a bit pale. And there might be times she had to work longer hours. He wasn’t trying to interfere with her work. It was important to her and he got it. He also thought she had to be struggling financially so it was no wonder she was so work-focused.
Once Dave died, she’d thrown herself into work to keep herself busy, from thinking about his death. But he was going to give her other things to focus on. And if she needed money, then he was going to need to work out a way to help support her financially as well.
But those thoughts were for another day. Right now, he was going to open up to her.
Fuck. This was hard.
“Everything okay?” She’d grown tense beside him, and he realized he’d gone too long without talking.
“Everything is fine, baby doll. How many words did you write?”
“Nine thousand today. I’m actually ahead of schedule.”
“Guess that exercise got the blood pumping, huh?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Perhaps.”
Seemed that was all she was going to allow. They’d see. What she didn’t realize was that exercise routine had just become a regular thing in her life.
“When am I going to get to read one of your books?”
She blushed bright red. She did this every time. Why would she be so embarrassed about something she obviously loved?
Was it because she didn’t think they were very good?
“Uhh, never.”
“Never?” That didn’t sit well with him. “Why can’t I read them?”
“Be-because…I don’t know. I don’t feel comfortable with you reading them.”
Okay. That cut deep.
She must have seen something in his face because she slid one hand free of the heat pack and reached for him.
“Keep your hand in there,” he ordered.
She slipped her hand back into the folds of the heat pack. “Issy, you don’t understand. It’s not you. It’s…I don’t let anyone I know read them.”
“What? Seriously? Even Dave?”
“No one.”
“But…” He didn’t get it. “How could he stand not having read them?” Doc was curious as hell. Even more so now that she was being so secretive.
“I don’t know…I guess…what if he didn’t like them? Or what I wrote about? Or some of the characters…they have a lot of me in them and some are nothing like me. I just write what I feel. What if you read them and think that what I’m writing is about you? And it makes things awkward between us? What if you think they’re crap?”
“First of all, I won’t think they’re crap. I can guarantee that.”