Chapter 82

Jason carefully placed Grace in a chair and propped a storage box under the kitchen table to elevate her foot.

“You need to eat,” he said, then busied himself in the kitchen, reheating the food she’d prepared earlier.

“You know,” Lina said, “I wasn’t too keen on this whole arrangement. You kind of came out of nowhere and basically moved in.” Lina laughed softly, taking in the small changes around the apartment. “I definitely wasn’t buying all that ‘sister/brother’ stuff.” She laughed again.

Jason arched a brow.

“But now,” Lina continued, “it’s clear you’re good for my friend. Thank you for helping her.”

Jason turned back to plating Grace’s food. “There’s no reason to thank me. Grace would do the same for me.” As he said it, he realized it was true. She would be there for him, no questions asked, no stipulations, no expectations. She wouldn’t leave his side. Could he say that of anyone else in his life? Anyone not on his payroll, or not trying to gain something from him?

Lina yawned.

“You should go home and rest,” Grace said. “This has been a stressful day. I’m sorry you got dragged into this drama.”

Lina hugged Grace. “The other people brought the drama when they tried to bully you.”

Grace shrugged. “I shouldn’t have engaged. I know better…”

“That’s nonsense,” Lina argued. “They had no right to target you.”

Grace’s lips tightened, as if she wanted to reply but decided not to. Lina kissed Grace on the top of her head. “Can I do anything else—do you need anything else?”

“No,” Grace said. “Go home. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

Jason walked Lina to the door, closing and locking it behind her. Then he fed Grace her dinner. She protested at first, but Jason was insistent. After the first few bites, she leaned back, feeling tired and weary. Her ankle ached, as did most of her body. But mostly, she felt beaten down, like she was fighting a losing battle. Worse, even if she somehow prevailed, it wouldn’t matter.

“I don’t like that look,” Jason said quietly.

Grace looked away. “I need to clean up.”

But Jason was already moving. He brought the dishes to the sink and washed them. Grace sat, a bit dazed, watching. Given her experiences, she seldom allowed herself to wallow or feel sorry for herself. What point would it serve? But just then, she felt a bit hopeless.

When Jason finished tidying, he asked, “Sister, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“Huh?”

“Yes or no?” he asked, as if it were an extremely normal question.

Grace blushed crimson. She tried to stand and wobbled. She sat back down.

“Let’s try this again,” Jason said. “Sister, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Her expression was awkward, but she finally said, “Yes.”

Jason swept her up and carried her into the bathroom. He left her standing, waited to ensure she was steady, then backed out and closed the door. “Call me when you’re done,” he said.

Her face grew even redder. It occurred to her that he’d been paying attention to how often she needed to relieve herself. On the one hand, it was a basic biological process; on the other, she felt shy that he’d noticed.

When she hobbled out of the bathroom, Jason was there. He swept her up and carried her back to the chair.

“Jay, I can walk. It’s only a slight fracture in one foot; the other is fine.”

“The doctor said you should move as little as possible,” he said. “Or do you not like me taking care of you like this?”

“No… no.” She shook her head.

He smiled faintly and stroked her flushed face. “Although I don’t like you getting hurt, Sister, I do like how you’re depending on me.”

“Depending on you?” She was puzzled.

“Yes, depending on me. If you want to walk, I’ll carry you. If you want to eat, I’ll feed you. When you’re thirsty, I’ll get you a drink. I like you relying on me.”

Grace swallowed hard. This seemed more personal, more intimate than a brother helping his sister.

“I like caring for you,” he said.

His body moved closer. His lips parted, and his dark eyes were so focused on her that she understood what people meant about drowning in someone’s eyes. Jason wasn’t just attractive; he was devastatingly so—the kind of man whose strength drew her in and whose face held her spellbound.

“I… I’m not used to relying on someone,” Grace whispered.

“You can get used to it,” he mumbled.

If not for the constant pain, she would have thought she was dreaming.

That night, before bed, Jason prepared a tub of warm water. He used a soft washcloth to gently wash Grace’s face and neck, rinsing her hands and forearms. When he bent to wash her feet, Grace stopped him. “You don’t have to—”

“I heard what the doctor said. I won’t get your injured foot wet. Just relax. Please.”

His voice was earnest, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she liked his touch, the gentle way he held and massaged each limb. It was soothing and exciting all at once. And his hands… he had such strong, long fingers.

“You need to request a leave of absence.”

“From work?” Grace shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You were told to rest.”

“If I request time off, there’s a very good chance I won’t have a job to go back to.” She tensed. “It was very hard for me to get this job. I went on countless interviews and was always told no. The moment people learn I’m a convicted felon… no one wants a criminal working for them, Jay.”

He was undeterred. “Your health is most important. You need to heal. Even if you lose this job, you must focus on your health. Without it, what would you even be working for?”