“See those wheels spinnin’ in that head of yours,” Rowan murmured with a frown. “I’m guessin’ you’ve done the worrying for the whole household, taken care of everyone, all your life.”
I pursed my lips, unable to argue with him. I was the one who’d figured out how to cook, how to wash our clothes, how to patch up my brother’s skinned knees, how to treat fevers and colds.
“Yeah,” Rowan sighed, taking my silence for the agreement that it was. “Even now you take care of everyone else around you. You’re always cookin’ for them, feedin’ them. Stoppin’ on the side of the road and literally putting yourself in harm’s way for them.”
His jaw ticked with what I guessed was the memory of Ronnie almost hurting me.
“You take care of everyone but have never had anyone to take care of you.” His lips brushed my fingers again. “Now, cupcake, I’m gonna brace for a comment on feminism after I say this, but I’m gonna say it anyway. You’ve got me. You’re my woman. I’m gonna take care of you. You can relax your grip on the reins, baby. You can trust that I’m not gonna let you go off course.”
He was right… Part of me did want to argue with him. Not the feminist part, though. The other part, the part that had only ever relied on one person: my brother, despite the demons he was still battling to this day. The part that had been let down by everyone who was supposed to take care of her. That part found it hard to trust Rowan. Even though Rowan hadn’t let me down. Not once.
“You scare me,” I admitted.
His eyes twinkled slightly, and his lip twitched. I figured he wouldn’t properly smile until I was out of this hospital bed. “Good,” he murmured. “Because you scare the fuckin’ shit outta me.”
My recovery was painful. Not so much in the physical sense—although that was also incredibly uncomfortable— but because my diet and eating habits had to change. I was required to eat only small, bland meals while I healed. It was shocking and scary to me that something I’d defined my identity with—my ability to bake—was threatened by me ignoring my body.
I loved to eat, needed to taste everything I was baking when I was experimenting. And I’d nearly stolen that ability from myself. I’d nearly died. It was a confronting reality and something that shook a healthy dose of fear into me.
The bakery did not implode during my absence… which was luckily only about a week when it was all said and done. Tina, of all people, stepped up and did the majority of the baking when our emergency frozen stores ran out.
And although I was unable to eat a lot, all reviews came out great. She’d been helping me out every now and then, and had been with me since the start, so she knew all of the staples and had become an expert at following my chaotic recipes.
Fiona ran the front of the house with the same precision and competence. She’d been there almost as long as Tina and knew how everything worked.
Tiffany came in to help with whatever needed to be done.
It was unsurprising that my friends stepped up for me. They were all by my bedside the second they found out I was in hospital.
Fiona’s eyes were red-rimmed when she burst into my hospital room. “Holy fuck, babe! How about you never do that to me again? Scared the absolute piss outta me.”
“Ditto,” Tina frowned, reaching down to squeeze my hand.
Tiffany burst into tears, leaning against her wife for support for about five seconds before clearing her eyes and jumping into action.
“These sheets won’t do,” she declared. “And that gown.” She screwed up her nose. “I need to go shopping. We need skincare, candles, a robe, PJs… just to start.”
No one tried to argue with her because no one was brave enough to do that. So, by that evening, I had sheets, silk PJs, scented candles, and all of my favorite skincare in the small bathroom that adjoined my room.
“Do you want me to call Ansel, babe?” Fiona asked from her perch on the armchair as we all watched Beth and Rip dancing on the ranch on her laptop.
I felt all the blood leave my face, and my body tensed. Since I was half lying on Rowan, he felt the change and turned to me.
I focused on Fiona, thinking about my brother. He’d be here by now if he’d felt anything from our freaky connection. Since he wasn’t, he hadn’t. And although I would love him near me, I was glad he wasn’t here. This would’ve been a shock to him. And the hospital environment… No.
“I think it’s better if we wait until he comes in a few weeks. We’ll tell him then. I don’t want him to have to deal with all of this.” I was being purposefully vague because of Rowan listening to every word, but Fiona understood what I meant.