He tried to do as she said. The angel to his darkness. His guiding light. Everything hurt, but the ache in his chest overpowered them all. Belle had seen his charts—she’d know what cancer he’d had and the fact that he was now infertile. She’d have seen the X-rays, the record of years of abuse in black and white.
“How’s our patient, Belle?” Doctor Stanley asked.
Bently opened his eyes, not wanting anyone else to see him in such a state. He shoved it all down like he’d always done. “Ready to go home, Doc.”
The doctor nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Belle has the paperwork about concussion care and for your stitches. I’ll send you with a pain script, but as I said, you’ll need someone to stay with you around the clock for at least forty-eight hours, longer if possible.”
“No worries,” Bently said.
“You might be nauseous for a while. The headache could last for a week or so. You feel funny or get concerned, you come right back here. Okay?” Doctor Stanley asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright, then. You’re good to go. Did you have someone waiting to pick you up?” he asked.
“I took care of it,” Belle interjected.
Stanley looked at Belle. His expression softened. “Of course. I never doubted your capable hands for a moment.”
The man had checked her out every time they’d been in the room together—he could use a lesson in subtlety. Bently’s fists clenched as the doctor left the room.
Belle pulled a wheelchair up to the bed.
“That better not be for me,” he said, harsher than he’d intended.
Belle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You heard the doctor. You can’t walk unassisted.”
“He didn’t say I was an invalid. I can walk.” Bently shuffled his feet to the ground, his head going dizzy with the abrupt movement. Belle’s competent arms wrapped around him.
“Men,” she grumbled, and he couldn’t hold back the small smile that tipped the corner of his mouth up.
He stood carefully. She pressed her side against his as they took slow steps towards the exit. “Did you call Mikel?”
“No.”
“Who’s coming to get me?”
“You’ll see. You like surprises, right?” she said.
He chuckled, but winced from the pain. His head was pounding and his balance off-kilter like he was swimming through a dense fog. Her closeness only added to the dizzying effect. They turned to the double doors to the well-lit parking lot. It was still dark.
He stumbled and swayed, but her grip only tightened.
“I’ve got you,” she promised.
He searched the parking lot for any signs of his family. She led him to her beat-up Ford Focus and opened the door.
“Are you trying to kidnap me?”
“You need round-the-clock care, remember? Now, my place or yours?” she asked in a no-nonsense tone as she opened the door and guided him inside.
He’d wanted to hear those words from her, but not under these circumstances. His head was throbbing and he shivered. His bloody stained pants and this flimsy scrub top weren’t keeping him very warm.
He sighed. “Mine.”
That way she could drop him off and go on her way.
She reached across him, her face inches from his. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his muscles, taking shallow breaths so as to not aggravate his sore ribs any further. He stole her exhale as Belle pulled the seat belt across his chest, carefully.
***
Belle supported him as they walked into his house. There was no way they could both fit up the staircase side by side, so he reached out to the wall to steady himself. Her soft touch grazed his back, blistering his skin. He got to the top of the stairs and tripped. His hands flew out as they landed on the wooden floor. He groaned as pain lit him up from the inside out, his ribs throbbing.
“Which bedroom is yours?” Belle reached out to his arm and helped pull him up.
At least she wasn’t asking stupid questions like how was he doing. But damn! He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, much less the woman he . . . wanted. Frustration built as he stood, grasping the edges of the doorframe to his room. She reached inside and found the light. He slammed his eyes shut at the visual intrusion.
“Fuck! Shut it off,” he growled.
“I just need to see where everything is so I can help you. Keep your eyes closed and I’ll lead you to the bed.” She was asking him to trust her.
He did as she said—it wasn’t as if he had a choice. The back of his legs hit the bed and he sat down, gingerly.
“Do you have any candles?”
“Check Jasmine’s old room. First one on the left.”
Belle disappeared, rustling through what sounded like drawers before she returned. “Okay, you can open your eyes if you want. Which drawer has your pajamas?”
“Just go, Belle. I can take care of myself from here.”
She huffed. “I’m not leaving you alone. You need help. You’re my patient and my friend. You said yourself you don’t have anyone to call at this hour, do you?”
She wanted to take care of him? The thought made his heart splinter. But his pride reared its ugly head, sending a new wave of anger. He was at his weakest, powerless and helpless. There was only one reason this woman would stick around—she pitied him.
His eyes snapped open. “I said to go. I don’t want you here. I can take care of myself!”
Belle’s features hardened under the soft light of the few candles placed around the room. Her hazelnut skin glowed as she stepped closer. “You’re human, Bently. Just because you need help, doesn’t make you less of a man.”
She’d fucking read his thoughts.
“We both know you won’t ask for help, so I’m volunteering so you don’t die in your sleep. You want to leave Jasmine and all your family alone because you were too damn stubborn to accept my assistance?”
“No,” he grumbled.
“I knew you were a smart guy. Now,
