Southern Heart (Southern 5)

I walk over to the freezer, taking out a frozen chicken and putting it in a pot of water. This is what I do when I’m stressed, I cook.

"I’m done!" I hear him yelling and walk toward the bedroom. I find him sitting on the bed, his shirt in his hand.

"How was it?" I ask him. When he looks up at me, I can see little drops of water still in his hair.

"Heaven," he says, and I swallow when I see that he’s just wearing a pair of black boxers.

"Um, I’ll give you a couple of seconds to get dressed," I tell him, turning to walk out of the room.

I look over at him. "Does this offend you?"

I scoff now. "No, of course not." Ignoring the heat rising up my neck.

"I was going to say you already ripped my clothes off me," he jokes, and I just glare at him.

"That was a medical emergency"—I shake my head—"and it’s too soon to joke about it.” My voice goes soft as I walk over to the supplies. "But I cut them off you. Now lie back."

When I turn back around, he is lying down. I stand next to the bed and bend over. My hand is shaking just a bit. "Chelsea," he says my name softly, and I look up at him. "You saved me."

I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and ignore the stinging of tears in my eyes. It takes me no time to get everything changed and dry, and when I look up, he has his eyes closed. "All done. Did you want a pain pill?" I turn my face to look at him and realize I’m suddenly very close to him. His eyes open, and we stare at each other, and I swear I stop breathing. His hand comes up as he cups one of my cheeks. I don’t move. My stomach flips back and forth as his thumb rubs my cheek.

"No pill," he says and then he drops his hand, and the moment is gone.

"I know that you overdid it today." I walk over to throw out the other bandages, then walk back to him and hand him the pain pill with a glass of water.

He takes it without saying anything to me. "Thank you," he says, and I just nod at him and put down the glass.

"I’m going to take a shower," I tell him, and he just looks over at me.

"Leave the door open just in case." He smiles shyly at me, and I walk out of the room with a huge smile on my face as I shake my head.

When I finally get out of the shower and walk into the kitchen, darkness has come. I walk toward his bedroom and see that everything is off. Walking into his room, I see that he is sleeping. A T-shirt covers his chest. I try not to make noise to wake him, and when I get close to the bed, his eyes open if only for a second and then quickly close. "You are what dreams are made of," he says softly and falls back asleep.

Chapter 13

Mayson

"I’ll kill everything that you love. Nothing is safe from me."

My eyes flicker open, and I see darkness again. My eyes roam the four corners of the room and then look out the window. I close my eyes again, and this time I see Chelsea. I was so close to crossing a line yesterday. So close to kissing her that I could have tasted her lips on mine. It was a slip that will never happen again. It can’t happen.

Her hands on me as she bathed me made my cock so hard, I was petrified she would see it. Instead, I kept my T-shirt over it in a ball. Listening to her talk about what she wanted in the future and knowing that it was nothing that I could give her. I have nothing to offer her.

I get up slowly as I make my way to the bathroom. The stinging is a bit less today, but it pulls nonetheless. I walk into the kitchen and see that it’s just after five in the morning. I see her bedroom door open, and everything inside me tells me not to go there. But before I can think, my feet are walking there, and I see her lying in the middle of the bed. The soft light is on her as she sleeps in a fetal position. Slowly, I close the door, not to wake her, and walk back into the kitchen to start coffee.

Putting my hands down on the counter, I look around her house. Something that I didn’t have time to do before. Everything is clean and put in place, the white countertops shine. Two brass lanterns hang from the ceiling that is over the island. She has a small plant sitting on the window ledge that looks out to the backyard, just like her grandmother. A picture of her and her grandmother also on the ledge. I pick it up and hold it in my hand, looking at the smile on Chelsea’s face. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I place it back right where I took it from and walk over to the fridge, seeing two color drawings stuck on there.