Kadence (Rockstar Book 7) by Anne Mercier

Author:Anne Mercier [Mercier, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anne Mercier
Published: 2016-11-19T18:30:00+00:00

19

Summer

It’s two days later and he’s still here. I’ll admit, I’m grateful. I could barely move that first day. He had to help me up so I could use the restroom. It would have been embarrassing if the pain hadn’t been so excruciating.

I thought my head or neck would have been the worst of it, but it’s not. My back is bruised—inside and out, apparently. It’s also stiff as hell. Jace found my heating pad and it felt like heaven when he placed the heat against my aching muscles.

Today, I woke to the smell of Italian food. My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten more than crackers or toast for the two days before he arrived. I managed whatever he fed me the last two days. He told me I needed to keep up my strength and that I was going to need it. How right he was.

I push myself up to sitting and I’m aching and stiff but not nearly as bad as I had been. My headache’s gone and my neck no longer throbs. I think I can quit the prescription medication now and just go with ibuprofen. I don’t like the way those narcotics knock me out. It makes me feel helpless, and whether Jace is here or not, it’s not something I can handle. Sure, he’s been here to help me and take care of me, but I like being in control of myself and my body. The last four days I haven’t been and I hate it. It’s time to take that control back.

I use the restroom then consider getting dressed as I stand here in my boy shorts and tank top. I veto that idea. I need a shower before I change clothes and I want food first.

I pad to the kitchen—no Jace. I hear the TV from my sitting room and freeze. Oh boy. I never even thought… I’m sure he’s wandered the house and I’m sure he’s seen the memorabilia and photos.

Letting out a sigh, I decide to face it head on. Control.

When I reach the sitting room, Jace is sitting in the recliner with a beer, watching football. It must be Sunday. I lost track.

He looks over at me and immediately stands, walking toward me.

“How are you feeling, darlin’?”

My girlie parts tingle. I love when he calls me darlin’.

“Sore and stiff but not as bad as it was yesterday,” I answer.

He kisses my forehead. “Good. I cooked.”

“It smells delicious.”

“I just have to cook up the noodles and garlic bread,” he says, then heads to the kitchen.

I gingerly and painstakingly take a seat on one of the bar stools at the island separating the kitchen from the dining area. I watch as he moves around the kitchen with familiarity and ease and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Grateful? Yes. Frightened? Yes.

He puts the water on to boil then the oven to bake before bringing a loaf of thick bread to the other side of the island. He reaches for a small bowl that smells like garlic.

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