“I’ve eaten much worse.” I shrug, thinking of the dinners in the prison. “I spoke with Tiffany while you were unconscious. I told her I would help getting information and documents to you since she’s overwhelmed with work. I hope that’s okay.”
“Documents? Such as?”
I place the papers into his good hand. He sets the spoon down and scans over them.
“I know you hurt your writing hand, so I figured I could sign for you while you observe me doing it or sign it with your left hand, I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s what you want to do or if you want to wait, but I asked the head nurse if we could use the floor’s copier and fax machine and she said yes. I figured you didn’t want to get backed up.”
He sets down the papers, shaking his head in awe. “I can’t believe you thought so much about this…about my company.”
“It’s not a lot, Benjamin.”
“To me it is.”
I smile at that. “Well, I need to take a shower and get another change of clothes before I come back tonight. We need to go through these so I can drop them off to Tiffany.”
“No, I don’t want you to sleep on that horrible recliner again tonight. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not the only one that got hurt in this accident. You need rest, a lot of it. You’re pale. I know your immune system is compromised. Go home and rest. I’ll have Dimitri shuttle these over.”
“No, I want to help, Ben. I don’t need to sit down.”
He huffs, pressing his lips together disapprovingly. “You’re not thinking about yourself.”
“I don’t need to anymore.”
I catch my breath, stunned by my own outburst. My chest twists, squeezing my heart painfully. Benjamin’s face is pale, his gaze intense.
“Please don’t ever say that again,” he whispers. I hold my head, berating myself for saying anything out loud.
“Benjamin, I’m not ready to talk about this,” I say, my throat constricting at the thought. I glance at him when I receive no answer, finding his attention is set on the wall. It’s a while before he speaks.
“I want to take care of you, Darcy, and I can’t in this godforsaken bed. So, please, can you try to take care of yourself?”
He looks at me, pleadingly. I’m so madly in love with this man that a simple look from him can cause me to fold. But this—the loss of our child—and the words he said moments before I lost her, are powerful and have sunken deep, despite my desire to move past it all.
He didn’t want the baby. It was the last thing he said before we were hit.
And as much guilt I’ve laid onto myself for the events of that day, those words are still linked to my brain. To hear him ask me to take care of myself, knowing he has no idea what this feels like, causes my blood to boil.
“Please come here,” he says softly. I cross the room and take a seat by his legs. He lifts my chin to force my gaze to his face.
I feel my face contort, unmasking my pain for a brief moment. “I can’t sleep in that apartment alone…I can’t. I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“You’re not alone, Darce.”
“I want to go back when you do.”
He sighs heavily. “Will you at least spend the nights at Doris’s? I know she’ll say yes, and at least you’ll be on a bed.”
“Can you stop trying to get rid of me?” I scoff, which makes him chuckle.
“That’s the last thing I’m trying to do. I’m trying to keep you healthy. Lord knows you won’t do it on your own.”
I point at the first piece of paper.
“You are honestly the most stubborn woman,” he grumbles, with no choice but to lift the document.
