Page 15 of Matthias’s Protective Embrace (Cardinal Falls #3)

Chapter Ten

FRANK

I slide into my desk a few minutes before class starts.

In an ideal world, I’d have been here ten minutes ago.

This might not be perfect, but at least I’m not late.

I’ll need every minute our professor gives us to complete this exam.

Even then, I give it a forty percent chance of passing, a forty percent chance of failing, and a twenty percent chance of passing out in the middle.

Perhaps someone more skilled in math should make those estimations.

Working all day in Matthias’s yard had been hard.

Not only because I was running on a few short hours of sleep, but because my gaze kept drifting to the house where I spent the previous night, hunched over the dining room table next to Matthias.

If we’d been doing anything but calculus, it might have been romantic.

Okay, it was a little romantic. There were a few moments when he touched me and I felt all the energy in the room spark through my body.

He didn’t mean any of them, apparent by how quickly he moved away, but I swear those touches are still running through my body, little zaps of electricity when I let my mind wander off.

I can’t help but wonder what he’d do if I kissed him.

Probably throw me out on my ass. The last thing I want is to end up back at the diner and away from Matthias.

I’m trying to figure out if I’ll still be invited over once our work on his yard finishes.

We still have over a month, but will he still want a troublesome house guest when there’s no longer a risk of me dying in his backyard?

The clock ticks over, and Dr. Smith stands up from behind his desk.

“You all know the drill by now. You have two hours to complete the exam. You get one page of notes and a calculator, nothing else. If your phone is out, I’ll assume you’re cheating.

” I push thoughts of Matthias aside, attempting to fill my brain instead with visions of function and equations. Not nearly as sexy, but more useful.

I take the opportunity to put my phone in my backpack so I’m not tempted. I might not be the most intelligent person in this room, but if I fail, at least I’ll do it honestly. That’s the kind of can-do attitude I’m sure my future employers will appreciate.

Dr. Smith works his way through the rows of desks, passing out exam booklets. I try to find some of the confidence I felt last night with Matthias. That feeling had been fleeting, but there were a few moments when I was sure I could ace this exam.

Well, not ace it, but get a reasonable score that’s not shameful.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that way before. Certainly not recently. It’s a feeling I want to hold on to for as long as possible. Sadly, I suspect those happy thoughts are about to come to an end .

I get my exam, holding my breath as I write my name on the front cover.

You’ve got this . Matthias’s words from this morning echo in my mind.

God, I hope I can live up to the faith he’s putting in me.

It’s a big ask. I can only imagine what he’d say if I came back and told him I failed.

This is why I didn’t tell anyone I went back to school.

If it all goes to hell, I can pretend it never happened and keep my shame to myself.

Now, I’ll have to look at his face when I tell him how badly I’ve fucked things up.

That’s not something I can think about right now.

Instead, I focus on what he might say if I do a good job—or an okay one.

That one’s more likely, so it’s easier to imagine.

His big smile that reaches all the way up through his cheeks and into his eyes, and the deep laugh when I joke with him.

That image gives me the energy I need to let out my breath, open the cover, and start the exam.

I read the first question twice. Not because I don’t understand it—yay— but because it sounds too easy. I must be missing something. After the second reading, I shrug and start working through the problem.

You’ve got this.

I repeat the words to myself over and over as I work through the calculations for the question. In what feels like way too long and way too little time, I get an answer that seems reasonable.

One down, eleven to go.

I might actually have this.

MATTHIAS

“Well, how’d it go?” I ask the minute Frank walks in the front door.

I try not to crowd him or sound too demanding, but I’m desperate for information.

I spent the whole evening pacing around my house, waiting to hear how he felt about the exam.

I texted him as soon as it was over, but all I got back was, I finished .

In what world is that enough information?

“I don’t know.” He toes off his shoes in my entryway. One of them gets stuck on his heel, causing him to nearly tip over before finding a wall to grab onto. He looks as tired as I feel.

“How do you think it went?”

Frank shrugs. “Medium? I answered all the questions, so hopefully, even if I got it wrong, I’ll get partial credit.” His face is pale, eyes dark.

“Come on, let’s get some food in you.” Frank doesn’t argue.

I know he didn’t have time for dinner before class.

At best, he ate a granola bar on his drive to the college.

After dinner, ideally, I get to put him to bed.

In my home. For the second night in a row.

I’d prefer it if it was in my bed, but that’s a step too far.

“Okay.” He follows behind me with no question, straight to the kitchen, where he practically falls into one of the bar seats. “I’m not that hungry.”

I snort. Sure. I pull some things I saved out of the fridge.

All the stuff I know he can eat, but also fast. I can tell time is limited before he falls asleep, and I don’t want him going without something in his stomach.

Otherwise, he’ll wake up starving in the middle of the night.

Not the best way to ensure he gets a good rest. The veggie stir-fry I made earlier only takes a few minutes in the microwave.

It’s not amazing, but it’s hearty and easy to make.

“That smells incredible,” he says, perking up as I slide the plate in front of him. “What’s in it?” I’m glad he takes his health so seriously, though I suppose that comes from learning the hard way.

“It’s a mix of vegetables, ginger, soy sauce, hoisin sauce, and some cornstarch to thicken it up.”

“Do you still have the bottles for the sauces?”

“Yeah.” I turn and pull them out of the fridge, lining them up so he can see the ingredient labels. He takes a few seconds with each bottle, scanning over them carefully. He must decide they’re okay because he slides them back toward me.

“Sorry, sometimes companies add weird things.” He shovels a couple of bites into his mouth, moaning around the fork.

“Don’t apologize for taking care of yourself.” I should’ve thought of that before I made dinner. Since I didn’t add any meat or dairy, I thought it’d be safe. I make a mental note to do more research and to read the labels on everything in my kitchen.

“It’s annoying to people when I have to check every label.” He takes a few more bites. “It’s called alpha-gal syndrome. Apparently, I got it from a tick.”

That’s what I’d worked out for myself with a little help from Dr. Google.

I’d never heard of anyone with an allergy to animal products like he mentioned, so I figured it might be something more complicated.

“Got it. Well, tell me if anything doesn’t work for you, and we can find something else.

” I’m not easily offended, and I’m willing to eat almost anything, so accommodating his needs isn’t a big deal.

I’m not sure exactly when I decided that I’m keeping him, but now that the decision’s made, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect him. At least while he lets me.

Of course, right now, he’s shoveling the stir-fry in his mouth so fast I’m afraid he might choke. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to ask him to slow down. Instead, I grab a glass of water and slide it across to him.

Coughing, he grabs it. “Sorry, I guess I was hungry.”

“Take it easy. I’ll heat up more if you need it.” Hell, I’d make a whole second dinner.

“No, this is plenty. If I’m too full, I have trouble sleeping.” He blushes a little at the words. “Plus, I have to drive home.”

“You can stay here again,” I offer way too quickly. “If you want. The guest room is still set up for you.” I can pretend I didn’t have time to change the sheets, but I’ve been secretly hoping he’d be back. “Then you can get plenty of rest.”

“I don’t want to interfere. You must have better things to do than play host to me.”

I really don’t. I could do some work—I can always work—but honestly, I’m exhausted, and I’d sleep better knowing Frank is safe under my roof. “It’s no bother at all. I’m going to go to bed early tonight anyway.” I’m way too old to pull an all-nighter.

“Sorry.” I wave him off as he slinks into the seat. “If you really don’t mind, it would be nice. That bed is the most incredible thing.” Lucky bed. I’d rather he slept with me. I’m sure he’d approve of my mattress.

And we’re back to the wildly inappropriate thoughts that have been swirling through my head all day.

We’re—well, I’m not sure what it is we’re doing, but it’s closer to friendship than a relationship.

Although, Aaron would kill me if I bossed him around and made him eat. I’ve tried and only barely survived.

“It’s yours. Finish up, and then you can go straight to sleep.” I know I need it, and I didn’t have to put in a day of manual labor or take an exam.

It only takes a few minutes for him to finish everything on his plate and chug the last of the water from his glass.

I don’t know why, but I walk him to the guest bedroom.

“Do you mind if I take a shower? I didn’t get one after work today.”

“Of course. There’re towels and anything else you need in the cabinet.

” I’m so tempted to tell him he can use my bathroom and enjoy the jets in the tub while he relaxes.

Except he’s not hypothermic this time, which makes it weird to offer.

I’ll have to settle for knowing the tankless water heater will let him stay in for as long as he wants.

“Thanks. For everything. It means a lot.” His voice is small and quiet.

Being this close to him when everything inside of me wants to scoop him up, carry him to my room, and take care of him is testing me.

My resolve is crumbling by the minute while I stand here, watching him.

If I don’t leave now, I’m afraid I might not be able to pull myself away.

“Sleep tight, Frank.”