Jerome raises a hand. “Whoa, no one’s blaming you for this, Deck.”
“Yeah, well, we all know if I’d been with her, there’s a good chance she wouldn’t be in this state.” It’s better for me to lay it all out before they do.
Mark blows out a breath. “You can’t know that. We get that you feel bad about what happened, but we’re worried about how much you’re taking on here.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“She got hurt and you blame yourself. You’re spending a lot of time together and she’s relying on you for a lot of things. It changes the dynamic of the relationship,” Jerome says.
I focus on my bottle. “Nothing has changed, apart from the fact that she’s not capable of taking care of herself the way she likes to. That’s it. And that’s for the short-term. Soon she’ll be back on her feet and everything will be exactly how it was before.” But as I say it, I know it’s not really true, especially since we’ve been in more intimate situations than we ever have before. I’m just not ready to face what that means quite yet.
Thankfully my phone pings with a message from her, so they don’t have a chance to grill me any further about it. I set my beer on the table and head to the bathroom. When I get there, I find Avery already sitting in her chair.
“Look what I did!” She’s wearing a wide smile that lights up her entire face.
I can’t decide if I’m proud or pissed off, or something else entirely. “If you’d fallen, you could have hurt yourself. I think you have enough broken parts already, don’t you?”
“It’s like a two-foot drop to the floor, Deck.” She rolls her eyes. “Come on, you should be excited about this! It means I’m one step closer to being able to handle the bathroom on my own.”
“Maybe next time let me supervise, just until you get the all clear from the doctor that you can start doing wheelchair acrobatics.” I make light of it, not wanting to take away her win. I want her to get better, but I also want to be there for her, because even though I know I didn’t cause this, I still feel awful that she was alone when it happened.
11
STABILIZE
AVERY
The days that follow bleed into each other, but Declan and I establish a routine. Physical therapy starts after the first doctor’s appointment. It’s nothing strenuous, but as the bruises heal and my ribs stop aching, my mobility and my independence slowly return. After the second appointment the doctor gives me the go-ahead to use a crutch to get around. I’m still weeks away from having my arm and my leg back, but we’re making gains, and my doctor is pleased by my progress.
I’m stretched out in the back seat of Declan’s SUV, eyes closed the entire duration of the ride home. After my parents’ car accident I used to have full-on panic attacks whenever anyone mentioned a car ride. I stopped taking public transit to school and rode my bike, at least until the weather turned nasty. I’m already worried about what the drive to Spark House is going to look like by the time I’m able to drive again, and how I’m going to be able to manage the anxiety. But that’s something for another day.
By the time we get home I have a tension headache, and any thought I had of trying out my new crutch has disappeared in the wake of my throbbing temples and tight shoulders.
“You okay?” Declan asks as he helps me into the wheelchair out of habit, not necessity.
“The car rides stress me out.” I knead the back of my neck.
“I’ll rub your shoulders when we get up to the condo.” He wheels me into the elevator and hits the button for the twelfth floor. It’s empty apart from us, so the second the doors slide closed, he moves my hair aside and presses his thumbs into the spot at the base of my skull that always makes me purr like a cat.
“You weren’t kidding, you’re tighter than a guitar string.” He rubs the spot until we reach our floor, then wheels me into the condo.
As soon as we’re inside, he gets the couch set up for me. I’ve graduated from spending the majority of my time in the hospital bed to rotating between it and the couch. My ass is probably going to be pancake flat after eight weeks of sitting on it.
I try to tell myself that the excitement I feel right now has nothing to do with the massage I’m about to get and everything to do with getting a little more of my mobility back. Once I’m seated, I pull my shirt over my head. He takes his spot behind me and pushes my bandeau bra down, giving him full access to my back. At this point I’ve given up on modesty for the most part with Declan, but I use my shirt to cover my chest and lean on the pillow in my lap while he grabs the lavender-scented oil and squirts some into his palms.