Page 36 of The Prince and the Bodyguard
“A little?” Eddie set down his mug and crossed the room, studying me with narrowed eyes that made me feel like he could see straight through any bullshit I might try to sell him. “You can barely stand up straight.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d been trying to compensate for the injury, but apparently, my poker face needed work. “I’ll be fine. Just need to stretch it out, maybe ice it down. We can still stick to our normal schedule.”
“Absolutely not. We’re staying in today.”
“Eddie, I can’t?—”
“You can and you will.” He moved closer. “Bash, you’re in pain. Anyone can see that. We’re not going anywhere until you’re feeling better.”
The matter-of-fact way he said it caught me off guard. I’d expected frustration, maybe some complaints about having his routine disrupted. Instead, Eddie seemed genuinely concerned about my welfare, like my comfort mattered more than whatever plans we might have had.
“What if something happens?” I asked, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at me since the moment I’d felt that cable snap. “What if someone recognizes you, or there’s some kind of threat, and I can’t?—”
“There’s not going to be a threat when we stay home. Right now, the most important thing is getting you better. We’ll reassess tomorrow.”
I stared at him. In my experience, protectees didn’t usually prioritize their protector’s comfort over their own convenience. Hell, most people I’d worked with would’ve expected me to power through a minor injury without complaint. But Eddie was looking at me like he was far more worried about my pain rather than concerned about how it might affect him. “You sure?”
“Positive. Go sit down before you fall down.”
I made it to the couch without too much additional damage to my dignity, though sitting down required some creative maneuvering to avoid putting pressure on the worst of the injured area. Eddie disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel. “Ice. Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off. Basic injury care.”
“You know about injury care?”
Eddie’s smile was slightly sad. “Unfortunately, I’m intimately familiar with pain, though in my case in my knees. I practically had ice packs attached to them for two years. Plus, it’s part of the training we receive.”
Right. Royal training probably included all sorts of emergency preparedness, including medical situations. I accepted the improvised ice pack gratefully, hissing slightly as the cold hit my lower back.
“Better?” Eddie asked.
“Getting there.” I settled back against the couch cushions, trying to find a position that didn’t make everything worse. “Thank you. For being understanding about changing plans, I mean.”
“Bash.” Eddie’s voice was gentle but serious. “You don’t need to thank me for basic human decency. You’re hurt. Of course we’re staying home.”
The simple kindness in his words made something twist in my chest. When was the last time anyone had looked at me like my pain actually mattered? Eddie was being sweeter than honey on a hot biscuit, and it warmed places inside me that had no business being this stirred up.
“Besides,” Eddie continued, settling more comfortably beside me, “it’ll be nice to have a quiet day. We’ve been so busy with classes and studying lately.”
He was right about that. The past few weeks had flown by in a blur of academic obligations and social commitments. Between our regular coursework, the group project with Jessica and Tom, and maintaining our public relationship facade, we’d barely had time to exist together without some kind of external pressure. And yes, my grades technically didn’t matter, but I still gave it my best effort. I hated performing sub-par.
Hell, we hadn’t even had that much time for… exploring. We’d exchanged a few more hand jobs and had both given and received oral, but we hadn’t taken things further. I wanted to, but I was hesitant to put any pressure on Eddie. Even asking felt like too much. If he wanted more, he’d have to say so. Until then, I was happy with what we had.
I sighed. “Yeah, it’ll be nice to have some downtime.”
And it was. We watched a movie, Eddie made us grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch (slightly burned but edible), and I dozed on and off while he worked on assignments at the kitchen table. Every so often, he’d check on me, bringing me fresh ice packs, painkillers, or water. And he kept asking if I needed anything, treating me more like a valued friend than an employee who’d inconvenienced him.
It wasn’t surprising considering how close we’d grown these last few weeks, but the situation made me deeply aware of how our relationship had shifted. We were friends. Yes, with benefits, but first and foremost friends. Not boss and employee, bodyguard and protectee, or royalty and commoner. Friends. Today drove that home, and it hit me hard.
“Ugh,” Eddie said, reading something on his phone after a notification had alerted him.
I looked up, carefully sitting up and adjusting the ice pack. “Everything okay?”
Eddie’s expression darkened. “It’s Alexander. More photos surfaced, with different guys, and it’s evolving into a fairly unpleasant situation. The king is rather displeased.”
“That bad?”
“I’m glad to be on a different continent right now, let me put it that way. Alexander’s been exiled to his family’s estate in Scotland until the media attention dies down.”
The reminder of what Eddie was potentially facing if his own identity was discovered made my chest tight with worry and genuine fear for what that kind of exposure would mean for him personally. “Has he officially come out?”
