Southern Heart (Southern 5)

“I’m sorry.” He stood up from the stool he was sitting on. “I didn’t think anyone was going to come in here,” he said and just looked at me.

“I was just coming to check on my horse”—I walked over to stand in front of him—“but if you need privacy.”

“If anyone should leave, it’s me,” he said, as he walked over to stand right in front of me. “I just.”

“They can be overwhelming”—I smiled at him and he just smirked as he looked down—“but they mean no harm.”

“It wasn’t your family.” His voice came out in a whisper as he looked at me without his stupid glasses. I saw his eyes filled with turmoil and I tilted my head and I wanted to ask him what it was, but Quinn came in and interrupted us.

I blink when the water that is running on my hands turns cold as ice. Turning off the faucet, I gather the dish towel and walk toward the spare bedroom, seeing him in bed with his eyes closed.

I walk back to my bathroom and get two basins and some towels for when he wakes up. I clean the kitchen, and an hour later, I walk to the bedroom and check on him. I try to be as quiet as I can when I walk in, and his eyes spring open. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him, and he rubs his face with his hand. Grabbing the bowl, I make my way to the bathroom and fill it up with warm water.

“I thought you were joking,” he says, looking at me coming back with one of the bowls.

“I never joke about sponge baths,” I tell him, walking back to grab another bowl. I grab two towels and walk to him. “Turn on your side,” I tell him, and he turns on one side, and I tuck a towel under him, repeating it on the other side. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he says, and I press the button for his bed to sit up more.

“Can you take off your T-shirt?” I ask him, and he takes it off slowly. I swallow now as I look at him with his shirt off. I put one of the face towels into the hot water and rub the bar of soap on it. “Let me know if this is too hot,” I tell him as I put it on his chest. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he says, and I tell myself he’s just another patient. I tell myself even when my hand shakes as I wash his chest.

“What are you going to do?” I ask him, trying not to embarrass myself while I am washing him. “After all this.”

“I have no idea,” he says, and his voice sounds tight.

"If you can do anything, what would it be?” I ask him.

“I guess I would do construction,” he says. “When I wasn’t on tour, I would love building things for the cabin.” I look at him.

“What is one thing that you’ve built?” I ask him as I take a towel in the clean water and rinse him off.

“I built a coffee table,” he tells me, and I can see his eyes light up, “then I added two bedrooms to the cabin.”

“You like it,” I tell him.

“I guess I do,” he says. “What about you?”

“I want to get my career going,” I tell him, “then I want to do the regular girl things.” I smile at him when his eyebrows pull together. “You know, husband and kids.” I don’t tell him that he’s always been the one I’ve seen holding my hand. I don’t tell him that he’s the one I’ve always wanted. Ever since I saw him that first time. “Do you see yourself having children?” I ask him, and I hold my breath now, the thought of him with someone making me feel sick.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never been in a relationship. I have nothing to bring to the table,” he says while I wash up his arm. “I have nothing. The only thing I did have is now burned to the ground.” Stopping at his shoulder, my face is very close to his.

“Everything can be rebuilt,” I tell him in almost a whisper, and he doesn’t say anything else. He looks at me and I don’t move as my face hovers next to him. I know that if I move even an inch, my lips could be on his. My heartbeat is echoing in my ears. “Do you think you can?” I move away from him now, pointing at his bottom half.

“I got that,” he says, and I just nod my head. “Call me when you are done.” I walk to the door. “I’m going to leave the door open, but I’ll be in the kitchen.”

My hands shake as I walk to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. I look out, his words playing over and over in my head. I have nothing. “Stupid man,” I mumble.