"That's not for me to decide. You dressed yourself."
"Dammit, Lauren, tell me what I'm wearing and if it matches," he snaps.
It's normal for patients to lash out. This is an incredibly stressful time. In my training, I've been taught how to deal with patients when they get like this. The difference is Gavin isn't any patient. He's my ex, and his snapping at me hurts more than it should. In all the time I've known him, I've never heard him snap at anyone like that.
Taking a deep breath, I pull my hand away, and his hand drops to his side. I've never seen this kind of temper with him before, and I wonder how much he’s changed. The boy I used to know would never have snapped at me like that.
"Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak to you like that. Especially not at you. This isn't your fault, and I know it."
"I know this is difficult for you, but you aren't the first person I've helped, and you won't be the last. I wouldn't have lasted past my first patient if my feelings were easily hurt. Be real with your emotions. As Mandy likes to tell everyone here, it's okay not to be okay."
He doesn't reply, and I wonder if he's retreating into himself.
"Your clothes match and are on the right way around. Now, let's go for a walk."
He relents. "Okay."
When I walk to his door and turn back, he almost takes my breath away. He's got muscle he didn't have before and tattoos I want to explore.He looks like my Gavin, but he's no longer the boy I remember. He’s grown into a man, and he's hotter than I could have ever dreamed. With his strong warrior’s body, he looks like he should be on the cover of a romance novel.
Fuck.
These next few months are going to be torture.
"Let's put your skills to the test. Can you get to the door?"
"Yes?"
"Show me."
Once again, he sighs. Putting a hand on the bed, he feels his way to the end. Reaching out with his other hand, he takes a few unsure steps until his hand touches the back of the chair in the sitting area. He uses it to guide him toward the door. Then he walks across the room, and with one hand on the dresser, he gets to the door.
He raises a hand to me, but I don't move until he's in front of me, and his hand lands on my arm. He rubs my arm briefly before I step back and move to his side.
"Okay, this is called a probing cane." I hand him the long white pole.
"What the hell?"
"It's the long white stick you’ve seen blind people using to get around."
"I'm sure there are better names for it," he grumbles.
He isn't the first to say that, and I completely agree, but that’s a topic for another day.
"Okay, which way to the lobby?" I ask.
These are simple things he needs to know. The more he does this, the more confidence he’ll gain and the better he’ll navigate his way around.
"To the left," he says.
We turn to the left, and he walks, his steps unsure. It’s our first day together, and he doesn't know what I'm going to throw at him, but he’ll learn.
He stops after we take our first step into the lobby.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"We’re in the lobby."
"Yes. How do you know that?"