Winning Back His Wife. Melissa McClone
your backside will be covered, and I won’t have to get into any territorial pissing matches.” He held up the robe so she could stick her left arm through the sleeve. “Let’s drape this over your right shoulder and not bother your cast.”
Sarah nodded, not trusting her voice. She appreciated Cullen staying with her at the hospital, but his company was enough. She didn’t want him buying her anything, especially something as lovely and as thoughtful as this robe.
He tied the belt around her waist. “Now you’re set.”
She didn’t feel set. She felt light-headed. Chills ran up and down her arms. Neither had anything to do with her injuries, but everything to do with the man standing next to her.
“Ready?” he asked.
No, she wasn’t.
“Go on,” Natalie encouraged. “You can do this.”
No, Sarah didn’t think she could.
Cullen extended his arm toward her. She reached for his hand, unsure if touching him would hurt or not.
He laced his fingers with hers, sending tingles shooting up her arm. “It’ll be okay.”
Chills and tingles were not okay.
“I won’t let you fall,” he said confidently.
Sarah had no doubt he would catch her if her body gave out and gravity took over. But who would stop her heart from falling for him? Or catch her if it did?
CHAPTER THREE
THE LAST THING Cullen had expected to become was Sarah’s walking buddy, but that was what happened over the next three days. His reluctance gave way to anticipation for the after-meal strolls through the hospital corridors. He’d wanted to be here and help her. This offered him the perfect opportunity to do both.
They didn’t discuss the past. They barely mentioned the future unless it related to her recovery. Sometimes they didn’t say much at all. It was enough to be with her, supporting her. Enough, he realized, for now.
As they walked through the hospital’s atrium full of tall trees and flowering plants, Cullen held Sarah’s hand. A satisfied smile settled on his lips. “You did have the energy to make it down here.”
“Told you so. This is much better than walking the hallways upstairs.” Sarah glanced up at the skylights. The ends of her long chestnut hair swung like a pendulum. Her bruises were fading, more yellow and brown than blue. “I can’t wait until I can go outside.”
“It won’t be long.” Sarah looked better, healthier. He squeezed her hand. “You’re getting stronger every day.”
Her green eyes sparkled. “It’s all this exercise.”
He wished it was because of him.
Yeah, right. He wasn’t foolish enough to think this time together meant anything. These walks were about her health, nothing else. “Exercise can be as important as medication in a patient’s recovery. So can laughter.”
She grinned wryly. “That’s why you wanted to watch the comedy show last night.”
“You laughed.”
“I did. And I’m smiling now.”
“You have a very nice smile.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at their linked hands. “Do you think I could try walking on my own?”
Cullen had gotten so used to being her living, breathing walker, holding her hand had become second nature. But it wasn’t something he should get used to, even if it was…nice. He released her hand. “Go ahead.”
Sarah took a careful, measured step. And another.
He flexed his fingers, missing the feel of her warm skin against his. “Tomorrow you’ll want to hop on a bike instead.”
Her lips curved downward in a half frown, half pout. “I like our walks.”
“Me, too.”
Her smile, as bright as a summer day at Smith Rock, took his breath away. He rubbed his face. Stubble pricked his hand. He’d been in a rush to get to the hospital and forgotten to shave again.
“But I have to be honest.” She looked around, as if seeing who might be listening. “I’m ready to escape this joint.”
“I don’t blame you.” Except once she left, everything would go back to the way it had been. They would live separate lives, in separate states. The realization unsettled him. “You should be released soon.”
“Has Dr. Marshall mentioned a discharge date?”
The anticipation in her voice made Cullen feel foolish for enjoying this time together. She wanted a divorce. He wanted one, too. “No. But given your progress, Dr. Marshall might have one in mind. Ask him when he makes his rounds.”
Hope danced in her eyes. “I will.”
Sarah took another step, swaying. She stumbled forward.
“Whoa.” Cullen wrapped his right arm around her waist and grabbed her left hand. “Careful.”
She clutched his hand. “I lost my balance.”
If that was the case, why was she leaning against him with her fingers digging into his hand? But he liked the way she clung to him. “This is the longest walk we’ve taken. Let’s head back to your room.”
He expected an argument. Instead she nodded.
Sarah loosened her grip and flexed her hand. “I can make it on my own.”
He laced his fingers with hers. “I know, but humor me anyway.”
She held on to his hand. “I suppose that’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”
A list of what he’d done for her the past two years scrolled through his mind. “I suppose it is.”
Sarah owed him, and he would gladly take this as payback. He wasn’t about to let go of her. And that had nothing to do with how good having her close felt. He caught a whiff of her floral-scented shampoo. Or how good she smelled. Nothing at all.
That afternoon, Sarah gripped the edge of the hospital blanket. She stared at Dr. Marshall, wondering if she’d misunderstood him. She sure hoped so. “Don’t you mean an independent discharge?”
“An independent discharge is not going to happen.” Dr. Marshall looked like a grandfather, rather than one of Seattle’s top surgeons, with his silver-wire-frame glasses and thinning gray hair, but the man was turning out to be the devil in disguise. “You are unable to care for yourself. Your discharge planner and orthopedist agree.”
She hadn’t been waiting all afternoon full of hope only to hear this. “That’s…silly.”
Cullen, who leaned against the far wall near the window, gave a blink-and-you’d-miss-it shake of his head.
Her fingers tightened on the fabric, nearly poking through the thin material. She didn’t like being so aware of Cullen’s every movement. Her senses had become heightened where he was concerned. She’d wondered if he felt the same way. Now she knew.
No!
Frustration tensed her muscles, making her abdomen hurt more. Disappointment ping-ponged through her. They’d shared lovely walks though the hospital, holding hands like high-school sweethearts. She’d assumed Cullen would support her independent-discharge request, but he hadn’t. He didn’t want her returning to her apartment in Bellingham to stay by herself.
“Nothing about this is silly,” Dr. Marshall said. “You are lucky to be alive.”
“Damn lucky,” Cullen murmured.
She didn’t feel that