Page 27 of The Last Love Story (Baker Girls #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JADE

I’m getting used to this.

For the last nine days, Justin has slept in my bed each night. And each morning, I’ve woken up with his body curled around mine.

Maybe it’s all a mistake. Maybe I’m going to end up with a broken heart.

Or maybe this is all leading us exactly where we’re supposed to be.

That’s what my romantic heart believes.

And that’s what the feelings that are rapidly growing for Justin want to be the truth.

We need to talk about it. I know we do.

Today I get my bandage off. A little over two weeks, and I’ll finally be able to do a bit more on my own. And after my first physical therapy session on Friday, hopefully I’ll be cleared to start typing again .

And now that Justin and I are getting past the caregiver-patient dynamic, maybe we can figure out what’s happening between us.

Get it all out in the open.

Because miscommunication never got anyone anywhere.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not stressing and overthinking it and living in fear of this cozy little bubble bursting.

I look over at Justin’s sweet, sleepy face, and all I want is this. For him to be mine. For this to be real.

I hope it is.

“This is it. Are you ready?” the orthopedic physician assistant asks me.

“After two weeks of being wrapped up? Yes, I’m ready for my arm to be free.”

Finally!

“Good. Let’s get to it.”

I’ve been feeling pretty good for the past week.

I haven’t had any pain and the swelling has been under control.

I’m ready to get this bandage off and work toward getting back to my life.

Though recording audio with Justin has kept my mind focused, it’s also sparked my creative side, and I’m ready to start typing again.

“I need you to hold still for me,” the physician assistant says.

Beside me, Justin stifles a laugh.

“Sorry. I’m a little excited.”

“That’s fair, but I’d rather not cut you. That’ll make the whole process take longer.”

“Take a breath, darlin’. You’ll be free in no time.”

My eyes drift to him and my heart ignites.

That’s the usual reaction these days.

It’s going to kill me if he doesn’t want this too. So I’m trying not to overthink things and believe in what I’ve seen. The type of love story I’ve written for years. Maybe not quite that dramatic. Angst is a lot more fun to read about than it is to live.

The PA cuts through the outer layers of the bandage, then unwraps the inner layers, and when my arm is finally free, I sigh in relief. He also snips the stitches on my palm.

“You’ll want to moisturize and massage there daily to help keep it from cramping and to minimize scarring.”

I nod, then he asks me to move my fingers, and… it’s not easy. My range of mobility is very limited, and I can’t even make a fist.

“Whoa, that’s so weird.”

“Is that normal?” Justin asks.

The PA nods. “Yep. Muscle mass decreases quickly when there’s minimal use.

But that’s what PT is for. They’ll help regain that strength, and it looks like you’ll have some OT for fine motor skills as well.

It takes time, but a good chunk of that hand strength will return over the next couple of months, as long as you’re working at it. ”

“Oh, I will be. I’ve got worlds to dive back into.”

The PA looks confused, and Justin jumps in. “She’s an author.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure the physical therapist will encourage you to get back to typing sooner than later because it’s good for blood flow and strengthening, and it’ll help with range of motion, but they’ll set guidelines and limits when you see them.

Now, for the most important question. Any pain when you move your fingers or your wrist? ”

I move them the minimal amount I can, my eyes getting a bit watery when I don’t feel any pain.

“No. Nothing.”

“Good. The hope is that will continue to be the case and we’ll consider you fully healed. Time will tell, but that’s the outcome for the majority of people. Follow all the instructions you get and don’t overdo things, and I think you’ll be fine. ”

“Thank you so much.”

“No problem. Any other questions?”

I shake my head, happiness flooding me. I finally feel like I’m on the upswing. It never really hit home that the whole point of this was to be pain free. I’d had some form of pain for so long, I couldn’t conceive what it would be like to not have any. Now this is all starting to feel worth it.

“No. I think I’m good.”

He gives me a few more instructions—like still wearing the sling as needed to help keep my hand elevated—then I’m free to go.

As we walk out of the office, Justin takes my hand, and my heart lights at the unlikelihood of it all.

A little over a month ago, I left the office in tears, afraid I might lose a piece—if not all—of my career from this.

I was with my dad, but beyond him, I felt very alone, especially when it came to managing all this.

Now my husband is by my side and has been through every moment. The way he’s cared for me made every step of this process so much easier to deal with.

The husband part might only be legal, but this doesn’t feel fake anymore. My heart flutters as it tries to convince me… maybe this never was.

After coffee and a little shopping trip to celebrate and get me some better fitting headphones for recording, we’re at my dad’s house for dinner.

“Papa Jackson, what smells delicious in here?”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s just a simple casserole. It’s called Hungry Jack.”

“Oh my gosh. We haven’t had that in forever. I need the recipe. It’s so good.” I look at Justin. “Baked beans and sautéed ground meat and onions with barbecue sauce, then topped with cheddar biscuits. It’s delicious.”

“I also made a tossed salad with homemade Italian dressing. And I might’ve made some peanut butter pie.”

“With the Oreo crust?” I smile as he nods. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Well, we’re celebrating. Your arm is free and you’re recovering… you look happy, honey.”

“That she does,” Justin says, his handsome smile twisting up my insides.

My gaze goes from Justin, who is at the fridge getting drinks, to my dad. “I am happy.”

Happier than I realized.

God, I hope I get to keep it.

“You’re going to let me do the dishes whether you like it or not. I swear, I’ll call Michelene and tell on you,” Justin says to my dad, referencing his girlfriend, who is having a ladies’ night with a few friends tonight.

“You’re a dictator,” my dad says to Justin, but I just laugh.

“He is very bossy.”

My dad’s already walking toward the living room when I say that, and Justin spins around from his spot at the sink, lifting a brow and staring at me, gaze heated.

So soft it’s barely a whisper, he says, “You like it.”

I slowly shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile that creeps up my lips.

After doing everything for myself for years—for the most part, at least—it’s nice to have someone tell me to sit down instead of doing all the things.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Because I will never, ever take him for granted .

“No. Go rest. Consider that an order.”

I laugh a little. “Yes, sir.”

I walk through the swinging door out to the living room and take a seat on the couch opposite my dad’s favorite chair, where he’s already sitting.

“You really are happy. I swear I could see your smile shining even in the dark.”

My cheeks heat a bit, but I can’t deny it. I’ve been smiling a lot more often lately.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Does that mean all this is official between you two now? More official than the piece of paper you signed?”

I sigh at that. “I’m… working on it.”

Dad’s brow furrows. “Well, stop working and do what you need to do.”

“You sound like a more crass version of Yoda.” Justin’s love of Star Wars is rubbing off on me.

“No, I just don’t want to see this kind of joy and love pass you by.”

“Love? Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

I care for Justin. I have feelings for him. But love…

Love forms in a second, but grows over a lifetime .

Has that love already formed? Is it a seed we’ve planted?

That’s a little too overwhelming to think about right now.

“Don’t deny that whatever this is has or could grow into love.”

Could .

It probably will .

“Is that crazy? Or fast? Too much too soon?”

Dad shakes his head. “Too soon is an excuse people use when they’re afraid.

Before you even knew him in person, he made you smile like no one ever had.

Not the high school boys you were giddy over, not the boyfriends you hesitantly introduced me to, not the non-serious guys you never wanted me to see.

With Justin, you light up. I know you’re afraid because it happened fast or not the way you intended.

I also know when you’re in the middle of it, sometimes it’s hard to see objectively.

Here’s some objectivity. That man cares for you the way I could only dream someone would care for my daughter.

It’s obvious in everything he does. There’s no stamp of approval harder to earn than mine, and he’s got it.

Stop overthinking things. Don’t let your fears or uncertainties get in the way.

You’re stronger and smarter than that. Besides, you wouldn’t be who or where you are today if you let fear hold you back.

Live the life you deserve. Don’t ever hold yourself back. ”

I glance toward the kitchen.

Justin needs to wash the dishes faster because I’m ready to get him home so we can talk.

Home .

When he suggested us living together, that felt as crazy as getting married, but now I couldn’t imagine being there without him.

It’s not only my home anymore, it’s his too. I need to make sure he knows that. And that a house isn’t the only thing that’s his. I am too, and I have been for a while now.

Don’t overthink .

I’ve been chanting it the whole way home, but the closer we get, the more my mind races. I need to talk to him. Lay it all out.

I’m practically buzzing when he finally pulls into the driveway, and I throw my door open a little too forcefully, but this is eating away at me. I have to know. Have to face it all head-on.