Kiss and Don't Tell(75)

It doesn’t work like that.

It’s not supposed to work like that.

Isn’t that how it worked for my mom, though?

Didn’t it only take a few days for Mom and Dad to build a never-ending love? A love so strong that my mom never even considered another man after Dad died?

It’s possible.

But . . . no, not for me. I shake my head, clearing that thought away. I’m just invested. This encounter isn’t like my mom and dad, despite the bond I feel with Pacey. What they had was different, right?

I bite down on the side of my cheek and take a deep breath.

Wow, the emotions and thoughts that are taking over are far too heavy. It’s . . . startling, staggering, something I don’t want to think about right now.

I should be thinking about how I can help Pacey. How I can help him feel better.

Get it together, Winnie.

I move into his room again, quietly shut his door behind me, and then walk up to his bed. I gently place my hand on his arm. “It’s me,” I say softly. “I have a cold compress for your head. Are you open to trying that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Can you roll onto your back for me? I know it’s not the ideal position, but it’ll help with the cold compress.”

As he starts to shift, I set the compress down and help him. I move the blankets with him and then make sure he’s situated before I do anything else.

“I’m going to put this under your neck, okay?”

“Yeah,” he says as his arms fall outside of the comforter, his strong, broad chest prominently displayed.

I place the cold compress under his neck and ask, “How’s that?”

“Good.”

“Think you can take a few more sips of your drink for me?”

“Sure,” he answers, using one-worded answers, and I know it’s because if he says much more, he’ll probably regret it.

I lift the glass to his lips and he swallows a few sips before I set it back down on the nightstand and ask, “That enough?”

“Mm-hmm,” he answers, his eyes closed.

“Okay, well, if you don’t need anything else, I’m going to let you get some rest.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll check on you—”

“No,” he says. “Stay.” He takes a deep breath. “Lie with me.”

“Oh, I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Please.” He winces.

Don’t argue with him, Winnie. Just do what he says.

“Sure, of course.”

I move around to the other side of his bed and slowly he pushes the covers back so I can join him. I slip between the cool sheets and turn toward him as I lie on the pillow next to him.

“No,” he says. “Lie on my chest.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, questioning if I’m going to make this worse.

“Please, Winnie.” When he asks like that, pain lacing his every breath, his every word, I can’t deny him.

Slowly, so I don’t rock the mattress too much and disturb him, I close the space between us and then carefully rest my head on his warm chest. His arm pulls me in close, and when I place my hand on the space between his pecs, he lets out a deep, sated sigh.

“Thank you,” he says.

Those two little words pack such a heavy punch, and before I know it, my eyes fill with tears and a bout of emotions lift to the top of my throat, cinching it tight.

I’m scared.

For many reasons.

Scared because I know how serious head injuries are.

Scared because I don’t want anything bad to happen to Pacey.

Scared because these feelings I’m carrying for a man I just met shouldn’t be this strong.

But they are.

I care for him.

I want him to be okay.

And as I rest my head on his chest, his arm wrapped around me, I realize that this, right here, is the most I’ve cared about someone since my mom died. And this is the first time I’ve cared about a man this much, more than I ever cared for Josh.

And that’s probably the most terrifying revelation of them all.





A light, steady caress moves across my back, pulling me from my deep slumber.

“Hey.” Pacey’s voice wakes me up even further.

Oh shit, I fell asleep when I should’ve been making sure he was okay.

I sit up quickly and wipe at my eyes. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” I blink a few times and realize there’s some light in the room as well. How long was I out? I bring my hand to his cheek and ask, “How are you feeling?”

The smallest of smiles crosses his lips. “I have a dull thud in my head, but feeling much better.” His hand smooths over my arm. “Easily the quickest I’ve ever gotten over a migraine. I’m usually out for the entire day and night.”

“Really? Was it the cold compress?”

That smirk grows wider. “Pretty sure it was the beautiful girl clinging to me.”

My cheeks flame once again. I’m not sure that will ever stop when he compliments me. “We both know that’s not the truth.”

“Trust me, I think it is.” He shifts so he’s facing me a little more. His eyes are more alert, and even though he looks slightly wrecked, there’s so much more life in his movements, and that makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Not the feeble man he was hours ago. His strength is coming back.