Page 9 of Matthias’s Protective Embrace (Cardinal Falls #3)

“No, I’ll just go home. My car’s out front.

” There’s no way I’m letting him walk out to his car and leave.

After only a few minutes outside, I’m freezing, and the only thing keeping me from shivering is the adrenaline running through my system.

He’s at least proving he doesn’t need medical care before I let him drive.

“Let’s get you up,” I growl. Frank looks surprised but doesn’t argue with me.

It takes a couple of minutes to get him up and steady on his feet.

He’s moving awkwardly, but I think it’s only because of the cold.

I keep an arm on him to help him to the back door, refusing to let go.

I don’t see anything that suggests an injury, but it’s too early to be certain.

When I pull open the back door, Frank stops and looks at me for a moment. Nope, not having it. He’s coming inside and letting me fuss over him until I’m satisfied that he’s okay. I loop my arm through his elbow and drag him in.

“Stay here a minute.” I leave him standing on the back rug as I jog down the hall to the linen closet. There are several fluffy blankets—gifts from Tyler—that will be perfect for warming him up. I grab the three biggest ones and hurry back to him.

When I return, he hasn’t moved. At all. Instead, he sways a bit and stares at the floor. His skin looks a bit pale, if anything.

“Here, let’s move you to the couch, and we can get you wrapped up in some blankets. Then I’ll get you some hot tea.”

I grab his hand, but he stubbornly refuses to follow me. For someone who could barely walk a second ago, he’s surprisingly strong.

“I’ll get things dirty. I’m a mess.”

Are you fucking kidding me? “Everything washes,” I assure him.

Even if it didn’t, it’s only stuff. Not nearly as important as taking care of him.

When I tug on his hand again, he resists for a second before giving in.

Before he sits, I throw one of the blankets down on the oversized couch.

Not to protect it but because I want to be able to wrap him up properly.

I nudge him gently, and he sits without further complaint.

I busy myself covering him in blankets, folding them around him to envelope every inch.

Each time my hand grazes his skin, I’m shocked all over again by how cold he is.

It might have been mild earlier, but we’re on our way to a cold snap, and the temperature’s dropped to below freezing in the last hour.

I push all the thoughts from my brain about what might have happened to him if I hadn’t been an anal bastard who needs to check the progress daily.

By the time I’m done, only his face peeks out from the cocoon.

Perfect.

“Stay here. I’m going to get some hot tea for you.”

Frank doesn’t say anything, which I take as approval of my plan.

In the kitchen, I start the water kettle and rifle through the cabinets for the tea.

What the hell possessed him to fall asleep against the fence?

When did it even happen that no one noticed at the end of the day?

I consider calling Sam but decide against it.

I don’t want him to get in trouble. At least not before I know what happened.

It’s not easy to fall asleep in such an environment.

What if he hit his head or something? I pull up a browser on my phone and check the signs of a concussion.

Then I check signs of hypothermia. I’m not sure which one worries me more at this point.

I’ll check his head for any lumps and make sure his eyes are focused. Maybe check on him throughout the night.

Throughout the night? My brain thinks he’s staying here even though he’s made it very clear he wants to go home.

Yeah, that doesn’t sit right with me. There’s no way that boy’s driving away from here tonight. I don’t know his home situation, but he needs care and attention. He’s not leaving here unless I’m sure he’s going to get it from someone else.

The kettle whistles, and I pour the boiling water into the oversized mug I’d prepared with a chamomile tea bag. This way, he’ll have something warm and relaxing with no caffeine. If his story is true, it’s obvious he needs sleep.

When I return to the living room, Frank’s sitting perfectly still on the couch. Honestly, with the way I bundled him up, I doubt it’s possible for him to move other than maybe falling to one side.

“Here you go. It’s hot, but that’ll help regulate your temperature. Drink it slowly.” At least that’s what Dr. Google told me.

After a few seconds of wiggling, Frank manages to get his hands free to take the mug from me. He sniffs it and wrinkles his nose.

“Not a fan of chamomile?”

“I—I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.”

“Well, if you hate it, I’ll only make you drink a little.

This is the best way to help warm you up.

” The internet warned against doing anything drastic right away, like sticking him in a hot bath.

Apparently, warming up too quickly is a bad thing.

As is doing it too slowly. I’m shooting for a happy medium .

Frank takes a tentative sip, then a few more.

“Good?”

“It tastes like grass.”

I bark out a laugh.

“But it’s fine. Thank you.”

I don’t think he really wants to thank me, but at least he has good manners. I let him sip for a bit. His eyes close in between sips, and I wonder again if he might’ve hit his head. “Do you remember what happened?” I ask when the color in his cheeks starts to return.

“Happened?” His big green eyes stare at me, blinking a few times.

“You were asleep. Against the fence. I don’t think that’s where you intended to spend the night.” At least I really hope not. A knot twists in my stomach. Did he sleep out there before avoiding whatever issues waited for him at home? Or maybe even without a home?

“I’m sorry.” He lowers the mug into his lap. Or at least to the pile of blankets covering his lap.

“No need to be sorry.” I wave him off.

“I was so tired while I was putting things away. Then I ended up on the ground and thought I’d close my eyes.” He stares into the nearly empty mug. “Just for a second.”

If the bitter cold and various noises as people came home from work didn’t wake him, he must have been exhausted.

“Any reason why you’re so tired?” We’ve all been known to doze off in weird spaces, but he’d have to be beyond tired to make that choice. A better one would’ve been to sleep in his car. At least it’d be a bit warmer. And safer.

“You’re growling.”

I clear my throat. The thought of him being so reckless with his safety and well-being brings out the controlling asshole in me.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

That’s clearly not the full story. My instincts tell me to push him into providing more answers. Hell, if he was my boy… but he’s not. “You need to keep warming up.” I nudge the mug, encouraging him to keep drinking, hoping it will create a distraction for both of us.

“I’m fine. Really. By the time I get home, I’ll be all better.”

“No.” I flinch at the force in my word. “No,” I say, softer this time.

“What do you mean no?” Frank’s face is full of confusion, not fear, over my outburst.

“I can’t let you leave until I’m sure you’re okay.”

“That sounds a lot like kidnapping.” He grins a bit, his personality thawing out with the rest of him.

“It’s not.” Mostly. “Now that you’ve had some tea, you can take a bath.” It’s not a question.

“A bath? Can’t I take a shower?” He wraps the blankets a little closer as a shiver wracks his body. Yeah, he’s getting a bath. And a snack. And anything else I can think of that might help. I might need to check the internet again.

“It’ll be good for you. I’ll go start it. You rest here until I come to get you.”

I rush to the bathroom. Yes, I want to be sure he’s okay.

It’s what any reasonable person would do.

Am I holding him hostage? A little bit. I turn on the water in my tub.

He could use one of the guest baths, but none of them have a soaking tub.

It’s about his comfort, not about having him in my space.

Using my things. At least that’s the story I’m going with.

While the water level slowly rises, I look around, trying to imagine what Frank will think being in here for the first time.

This was the first room I renovated when I bought the place.

It was fine before, with emphasis on the word fine .

Now it’s my oasis. A big rain shower, an oversized tub, and heated floors.

I might not spend much time at home, but when I’m here, I want to enjoy it.

I reach under the sink and pull out a bag of Epsom salts.

After all the hard work he puts into my yard, I suspect his muscles are sore and tired.

Even if they’re not, the lavender scent will relax him.

I pour in a hearty amount and grab a couple of the fluffiest towels in the closet.

Is it too much? I know he doesn’t need most of these things, but I can’t help it.

There’s something about Frank that screams at me to take care of him.

And that boy needs someone to help make sure he’s taking care of himself.

Eating. Staying hydrated. Not falling asleep outside.

I turn off the water and head back downstairs. I need to remember that he’s not mine.