Charlie moved toward the bathroom door the moment it opened, staying close to Savannah’s side as she came out of the bathroom.
“Let me help you into bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” she protested.
“You look awful. You need to be in bed.”
She glared at him. “Good to know. Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“Fine, then—I don’t want to go to bed,” she reiterated, shaking off his hand as he reached for her arm.
“Do you have to argue with everything I say these days?”
“No, but there’s no reason for me to go to bed.”
“Other than the fact you worked a twelve-hour shift, look dead on your feet, and you just threw up?”
“Yeah, other than that.” She looked ready to drop. Possibly her illness was related to exhaustion, but it was just as possible his presence had led to her sickness.
“You make me sick.”
He winced at the words from his past, shook them off, and focused on the fragile-looking woman in front of him.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “At least lie down and rest a few minutes while I clean your bathroom.”
“Go home. It’s not going to hurt if a used washcloth sits on the countertop overnight.”
“I want to help you, Savannah. Let me.” He did want to help. He wanted her smiling and happy, not miserable and sick.
Maybe he was destined to have a negative impact on anyone close to him. To make anyone unfortunate enough to get close to him miserable.
She glanced toward the doorway leading out into the hallway, then sighed. Her remaining energy hissed out like a deflating balloon and she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I feel guilty letting you clean when I’m perfectly capable.”
He’d really like to hold her, to stroke her hair, whisper words of comfort and stay with her until she felt better. It wasn’t his place to do any of those things. Not anymore.
“If you looked perfectly capable I wouldn’t have offered. You don’t, so go to bed.”
Surprisingly, she nodded and laid down on top of the comforter.
“I’ll straighten your guest bathroom then be back to check on you.”
Asking her to get into her bed struck him as odd. How many times had he gotten into that bed with her?
Odd to think he never would again.
That he’d lost that right.
That privilege.
Once he was in Nashville, had started his new job, made new friends, his having made the right decision would be reinforced. It was only because he was still here, still confronted every day with the life he’d become used to sharing with Savannah, that he was struggling.
Savannah would be much better off once he was gone and she could move on with her life. He blamed himself for allowing their relationship to go on for so long. He should have stepped away long ago, for Savannah’s sake if not his own.
Then again, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He should have protected her from ever
getting close enough to him to feel broken-hearted.