Regret Came Too Late

When Grace woke up, she winced at the bright sunlight. The space around her felt foreign. She sat up and reached for her forehead. It ached, and she realized it was wrapped in layers of gauze.

The bedroom was spacious, with a quiet kind of luxury. Suddenly, the last thing she saw before blacking out came rushing back—Ethan.

She looked up and saw him in the doorway. He was still in his wheelchair, holding a bowl of oatmeal. Slowly, he wheeled over and set it down on the bedside table. "Feeling any better?" he asked.

Grace was flooded with gratitude. Last night, she had been sure Chester was going to force himself on her.

"Much better, Mr. Henderson. How are your legs?"

Her memories of the incident were fuzzy, but one thing was clear-Ethan's kick had sent Chester flying. His legs were still healing. She'd never be able to forgive herself if she had made things worse for him.

"They're fine," Ethan said.

He grabbed the oatmeal and handed it to her. Surprised by the gesture, Grace took it with both hands.

Ethan turned away, his voice even. "Take it easy. You don't have to go to the office today."

Grace glanced outside and saw the daylight that she realized it was

expression darkened. She wasn't the

murmured, lowering her

the couch from the corner of her

dark suits today. Instead, he wore light-colored loungewear. Unexpectedly, he seemed more approachable without that

of bed. "Mr. Henderson, I think I learned some massage techniques before. Let

helping her out last night and even brought her to his place. While she felt

a book in his hand and

here at home, dressed casually, he felt almost disarmingly different-even mesmerizing. No wonder so

Ethan hummed in agreement.

placed her hands on his legs, working her fingers in gently. She wasn't bluffing-she really had learned massage

knew she had taken learning the craft seriously at

sometimes feel a little too intimate. After a few repetitions, Ethan put his book aside and caught Grace's wrist. She flinched and