Chapter 26
Erica
I direct Brody to pull into bay one when we get to the garage. It looks empty in here with Foxy still parked at the track. I’ll have to get her tomorrow.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
I can’t even drive her home with my legs like this. Dan, I mean Dr. Deardon, told me not to drive on the pain meds, and I’m definitely going to want some of those. But I’m sure I can get one of the track guys to bring her home. They’re good like that, and we take care of our own.
I get a flash of Todd’s face, really just his eyes, going wide and white as the flames reached him. It’s the last thing I saw before I hit the ground and my eyes closed. I didn’t pass out, but I’d kept them closed protectively—from the heat, from the dirt, from the pain in Todd’s scream.
I inhale, willing my heartbeat to slow as Brody gets out and comes around to the passenger door. He helps me out, and I step gingerly, testing the pain. My legs hold, and though it feels like being poked with hot needles, I take the few slow steps through the breakroom as he props me up, ready to catch me at any second.
At the stairs, I pause and look up. They have never seemed as daunting as they do now. Thirteen stairs of hell, but heaven is waiting up there . . . covered in cotton sheets, a fluffy blanket, and a feather pillow. And Brody wrapping his arms around me.
It’s a great incentive, and I lift my right foot for the first step.
“Let me carry you.” Brody’s voice has gone rough and deep, more of a rumble, as if seeing me in pain hurts him too.
“I can do it,” I argue, stubbornly moving my left foot to the first step too. Two feet per stair. That’s how I’m going to do this.
But I sway and lean more heavily on Brody. “You don’t have to do everything on your own. You don’t have to be strong now. It’s okay to admit that you need help.”
“I don’t.” What should sound strong and powerful sounds weak and ridiculous when I’m still standing on the first step.
Brody could just do it, sweep me into his arms and carry me upstairs, and I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it but bitch him out. But he doesn’t. No, he stands beside me, supporting and steadying me, letting me call the shots. As if we’ve got all the time in the world, he starts talking, his voice calm and soothing as he gives me another piece of himself.
“One of the strongest women I’ve ever known was my mom, and when she got sick, I didn’t think it was going to be bad. She was invincible. But her treatments got harder, she got sicker, and Mama Louise started coming over more. They were friends back then, and she’d say she was just visiting, that she’d baked too much dinner or too many cookies, or even that she’d found a new cleaner that was supposed to make the glass shine like diamonds. All so that she could help us without it seeming like she was cooking and cleaning because Mom couldn’t. I never thought Mom was weak, not when she needed help and not even when the cancer won. She went out fighting every last step of the way, and that wasn’t changed by her letting someone carry her stubborn ass up the stairs.”
Love, pure and bright, shines through, and I wish I’d gotten a chance to know his mother. She raised a good man, and I’d like to tell her that. I won’t ever have that opportunity. But I have one now with Brody, if I’m willing to be real.
“Okay, take me upstairs.” My walls are crumbling, breaking down, and it feels like a gush of relief to not have to perform for everyone. To not give, but to take, if only for a minute. To not be hard but to be okay with being weak, knowing Brody won’t judge me for it.
I want to cry and scream and admit how scared I was to someone. And he’s that someone.
“Thought you’d never ask, Lil Bit.” He gives me that cocky smirk of victory before picking me up carefully. He carries me up each of those thirteen steps and to the bed, where he sets me on the edge. He pulls my shirt off, tossing it to the hamper, and plucks a ponytailer from the nightstand, holding it out for me. I do a quick twist of my hair, getting it off my neck as Brody kneels in front of me.
“Can you lift your hips?” I press my palms to the bed, and he slips the cut-off scrubs to the floor, taking care over the bandages. He guides me to lie back, and I sink into the pillow as he tucks me in. “Tea?”