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."

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

expression darkened. She wasn't the type to sit back and let someone walk all

Mr. Henderson," she murmured, lowering her head as

Ethan head over to the couch from

one of his usual dark suits today. Instead, he wore light-colored

oatmeal quickly and got out of bed. "Mr. Henderson, I think I learned some massage techniques before.

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

book in his hand and glanced

was strange how distant and intimidating he seemed in suits, yet here at home, dressed casually, he

Ethan hummed in agreement.

stool, sat beside him, and placed her hands on his legs, working her fingers in gently. She wasn't bluffing-she really

her memories were fuzzy, but she knew she had taken learning the craft seriously

intimate. After a few repetitions, Ethan put his