I’d always assumed Cash was smart, but his level of brilliance wasn’t apparent until this second. Even though he’d finally explained his job in terms I could understand, I still couldn’t imagine any of it in my head.
“So…how’d this happen? What were you doing when you got hurt?”
“Fell.” And that was it; no more explanation.
It left me picturing him falling off a tower, hitting the poles on the way down, yet as far as I could tell, he’d only been injured in one place. Although, I didn’t ask any other questions. It was obvious he was tired, and when I glanced at the clock over the TV, I noticed it was two in the morning. Aria would be awake in four to five hours, and if I had any desire to enjoy his company while he was home, I’d need to go to sleep before too long.
“Where do you keep your pain relievers? I’ll grab you some before you go to bed.”
He hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his bedroom, his eyelids remaining closed. “I have some in my nightstand. I just need water. That’s actually why I came out here to begin with—before you decided to play nursemaid.” His tone was light, full of easy mirth.
“I’ll get that for you.”
He squeezed my leg once more before pulling away and dropping his hand on the cushion between us. I shifted on the couch, removed the ice from his side, and took a peek at the bruise. It was a deeper red than before, but that was most likely due to the ice. Realizing he was probably minutes away from sleep, I rushed to the kitchen, took the cold, wet cloth to the sink, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Thanks,” he muttered when he slid the drink from my outstretched hand.
“Do you need help getting into bed?” Apparently, my maternal instinct knew no bounds, regardless of how mortifying it could be at times.
His dark eyes flashed wide for a split second before a smirk tilted his lips. “No, I got it.”
I stood next to the coffee table, waiting for him to pull himself off the couch in case he needed assistance. Of course, he refused, leaving me to watch helplessly while he clenched his jaw, held his breath, and forced himself to a standing position, biting back the rumbles of agony threating to tear through his chest.
While he steadied himself on his feet, taking deep, controlling breaths, I touched his arm to remind him that I was still there if he needed me. Once he settled down, I offered him a smile and turned to leave. I only made it halfway across the room before he called out to me, making me whirl around to face him.
“Thank you…” He waved a hand toward the couch. “For tonight, this…everything.”
I had no words, so I simply forced a broad grin and nodded. It must’ve been enough for him, because he dipped his chin and angled around to his room in the opposite direction. The second his back came into view, my breathing escalated into desperate pants, saliva pooled beneath my tongue, threatening to spill out in endless rivers of drool, and my heartbeat decided to fall to the space between my legs, throbbing with each intensified pulse.
Stretched out along his entire back, a male angel had been inked from shoulder to shoulder, just below his neck down to the two glorious dimples at the base of his spine, and spanning from the left side to the right, where the bruise was more prominent. The wings appeared to be dirty, as if the tips were covered in soot, and a pair of hands held a sword and a book.
I wanted to ask about it, touch it, trace the details with my finger while memorizing every line, every shaded area until I could vividly see it behind closed lids as I fell asleep at night. But instead, I watched Cash barricade himself in his room, leaving me with yet another fantasy to obsess over while alone in my bed…in his house.
My eyes slowly opened to the morning sun brightening my room through the cream-colored drapes over the window. At first, I stretched and thought to myself how well rested I felt. Then I jolted upright, realizing how well rested I really was. Having a toddler that woke with the sun made that impossible—add in how late I’d stayed up last night, and something had to be wrong.
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand, double-checked to make sure I hadn’t been seeing things, and threw the covers off while practically falling out of bed. It was after eight thirty. The only times Aria had ever slept that late…that was a lie; she’d never slept in that late.
My heart climbed its way into my throat, closing off most of my airway. I flung my door open and ran down the hall. The first thing I noticed was her bedroom door left ajar. The only thing that had comforted me having her in her own room was the fact that she couldn’t reach the knob, so I didn’t have to worry about her wandering around the house while I slept. Every morning this week, she’d alerted me to her being awake by crying behind her door. How I’d slept through that, I didn’t have a clue.
But she wasn’t in her room, which served to heighten my panic while my bare feet slapped the hardwood floors on my way into the main part of the house. As soon as I cleared the hallway and made it into the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. The sight in front of me both settled my nerves and made me swoon all at once. Aria sat on the couch, spine stick-straight, hands in her lap with her feet dangling off the cushion like a well-poised princess. Next to her, Cash reclined into the corner with his feet propped on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles, a coffee mug in one hand and the other tucked protectively between his side and the armrest, reminding me again of the injury he’d sustained at work. Both had their eyes glued to the TV screen mounted to the wall out of my view—I had no idea what they watched, but both appeared to be incredibly engrossed in it.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” My question came out far more accusatory than I had planned, my fear and anxiety not yet fully dissipated. I walked through the kitchen—at a much slower pace—and approached them in the living room.
Aria’s attention never left the show playing in front of her, but Cash turned his gaze to me. A slight grin toyed at one corner of his mouth while his dark eyes flashed wider, just the tiniest amount, before returning to the TV.
“You were sleeping,” he mumbled, his lips close to the rim of the mug in his hand.
His short answer and lack of attention worried me, but I pushed past it and moved to stand closer to the couch next to Aria. “What time did she get up?”
He shrugged with his good shoulder, hiding a flicker of a wince with a slow blink. “Around six thirty.”
I stared at him in disbelief, my tongue and eyes suddenly dry and unmoving. However, it was a wasted show of surprise, because neither audience member offered me so much as a glance. “That was two hours ago!” Shock lilted my voice into a near screech.