He returned a moment later, arms packed with soft, folded towels. One large bath sheet, a smaller towel, and a couple of washcloths. He dropped them onto the end of the bed.
"Alright, operation Bath time is a go," he announced, rubbing his hands together. "How are we going to get you in there? Can you hop? Or do I need to carry you again? I'm not complaining about option two, just saying."
My cheeks were still warm, but the initial mortification had faded, replaced by a comfortable warmth. "I think... maybe carry me is safer," I admitted. "I don't want to put any weight on it by accident."
"Excellent choice, buttercup," he said, already moving towards the side of the bed. He knelt down again, his movements easy and familiar. "Just tell me how you want to do this."
I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, my non-injured leg swinging free. He carefully scooped me up, supporting my back and knees, making sure the injured ankle was held safe and steady.
