Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 98

“I was just worried about you.” She set the bowl of soup on the side table, her voice gentle and soft.

“And what exactly are you worried about?” For once, a faint smile touched Harrison’s lips, his eyes surprisingly warm.

“I was worried you might be hungry.” She glanced at his face, her tone cautious. “Logan mentioned your leg…”

The smile faded from Harrison’s face, his expression cooling.

“Logan does have a lot to say, doesn’t he?”

Worried he’d blame Logan, she quickly knelt in front of him, taking his hand and giving it a little shake. “I made him tell me, okay? Don’t be mad at him.”

“Go do your own thing. I’ll just stay here for a while.” He ruffled her hair gently as he spoke.

“I won’t.” Anastasia’s heart ached at the emptiness in his eyes. “I want to stay here with you.”

She tilted her chin, looking up at him. “I made this soup myself. Won’t you try a little? Please?”

He glanced down, skeptical. “Since when do you know how to cook, Ana?”

“Um, just a little.” Anastasia’s gaze fluttered away, sheepish and a bit uncertain.

It wasn’t a total lie… right? She did know a little, after all!

The fact that she’d actually cooked for him softened Harrison’s expression—just a little. Still, he insisted, “Go downstairs, Ana.”

But Anastasia stayed put. “Babe, are you upset? Is it… because of your leg?”

She’d wanted to mention his illness, but she knew how sensitive he was about it. Instead, she tiptoed around it, only bringing up the injury.

Even so, a shadow flickered across Harrison’s sharp features.

But Anastasia wasn’t scared at all. She clung to his hand, saying, “Now that you’re healed, how about we leave the wheelchair behind?”

She pretended not to notice his intimidating look, laying her cheek against his knee, burying her face in his palm, her voice muffled and pouty. “I hate seeing you in that chair. Every day, I hope you’ll stand up and go out with me.”

“Other girls’ husbands take them shopping. Aren’t you going to take me?”

“I just burned it a little…” Anastasia glanced at his face, guilty, trying to tug her hand free, but he didn’t let go.

“You burned yourself cooking?”

“Yeah…”

Harrison sighed. “Did you put anything on it?”

Anastasia couldn’t lie to him, but telling the truth felt dangerous—she just knew he’d be angry. So she mumbled, barely audible, “…It doesn’t really hurt.”

No sooner had she spoken than he pinched her cheek and pulled her into his arms, her face bumping into his chest.

“Little liar.”

Rubbing her nose where it hit him, Anastasia blinked up in surprise.

—He was standing!