Chapter 235
Although Jamison’s technique was improving–more practiced every time–she still couldn’t shake the dread inside her. The needles barely hurt now, but the fear didn’t go away. Each time she saw one, Ivy’s heart clenched. In the face of pain or the prick of a needle, she reluctantly chose the latter.
Jamison grinned and tried to lighten the mood. “Just kidding, I’m not going to poke you every day. Alright, time’s up.” He stood, skillfully removed the needle, then pulled the blanket up to tuck her in again.
“Feeling any better?”
“It still hurts, but I can handle it…” Illness had softened Ivy, making her seem more delicate and vulnerable than usual. Even her voice took on a gentler, more feminine note; gone was her usual assertiveness.
Jamison was quietly pleased by this softer side of her, though deep down, he
missed her usual spark.
Noticing his gaze lingering, Ivy grew self–conscious and nudged him, “You should eat before your food gets cold.”
“Alright. How about you? Want a little more?”
She shook her head. “No, really, I’m fine.”
But Jamison ignored her protests and offered her another bite, bringing the fork to her lips.
Ivy’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he really slipping so easily into the boyfriend role? They’d only just started dating, and already he was this gentle, this attentive. It felt strange, almost too much to take in.
“Why are you just staring? Open up.” Jamison cupped his hand under the fork, commanding her.
“I really–mmph.” Ivy tried to refuse, but as soon as her mouth opened, he slipped the bite in before she could protest.
“You probably haven’t eaten all day,” he chided gently, “How are you supposed to get your strength back if you don’t eat? Dr. Brown said you’re anemic and need more nutrients.”
He grumbled, insisting she take a few more bites. When he offered again, Ivy quickly raised her hand in protest–her mouth was already full.
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Jamison Just smiled, took the fork, and without hesitation, used it to feed himself the next bite.
Ivy stared at him in shock. He… he didn’t seem to mind sharing a fork with her at all.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her startled expression.
She swallowed. “Um… I heard doctors are usually germaphobes. That fork–l just used it…”
“Maybe with strangers,” he replied, matter–of–fact. “But what are we?”
”
“We’ve already kissed, and you’re worried about sharing a fork?”
”
Ivy swallowed again, not saying another word.
Jamison reached for another bite, but she quickly shook her head. “No more, I’m really tired. I just want to sleep for a bit.”
She always felt drained and drowsy during her period–her energy simply vanished, leaving her wanting nothing more than to curl up and rest.
Jamison understood. “Alright, get some sleep. I’ll finish eating and head downstairs.”
“Mm–hmm.”
Ivy grabbed a napkin, wiped her mouth and hands, then quietly turned over, letting her back face him as she curled up instinctively.
Jamison kept eating, but his eyes never left her. He’d noticed that she always slept curled up, like a shrimp in a shell–classic defensive posture, a sign of someone who didn’t feel safe.
She hadn’t always been like this. Those three years of hell had changed her at her
core.
Thunder rumbled outside, lightning occasionally lit up the room.
Jamison sat quietly, finishing his meal, his gaze settling on the woman sleeping deeply in the bed, his expression thoughtful, unreadable.
He was the youngest in his family, the unexpected late–in–life child, doted on as if he were a grandchild rather than a son. He’d always been the one cared for, protected,
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apter 235
and cherished. In all his life, he’d never once imagined what it would mean to have
to nurture and protect someone else.
