8
Andi
Judgment Day
It’s going to be okay. It’ll be okay. Just relax, Dee. It’ll be okay.
I sit on the guest bed in Riley’s home and breathe through the nausea that settles in my belly when Lindsi’s text comes through. They’re leaving the hospital, he’s on his way home, and the clincher is, she doesn’t even know I’m here. I parked my rental car in his garage, and now I’m hiding out in the guest bedroom and listening to the way my breath shudders through nervous lungs.
An engine slows out front. Switches off.
My hands shake, because I know what’s coming. A telling silence settles over the universe as Riley gets a first glimpse of the front of his house and takes stock of what I’ve done. I wish he didn’t have to see the ramps. I wish we could somehow magically teleport him straight inside where he doesn’t have to know his home was changed in such dramatic ways.
But it’s not possible; Riley has to face his reality eventually.
“What the fuck did you do?” Riley’s anger echoes straight through two solid wood doors and a whole house to reach me as clearly as if he’s standing right here. “You put ramps on my fucking house?”
“They’re just temporary,” Oz volunteers. He had no clue what I’d done – I really should have warned him – but he still picks up the ball and runs with it. “We can pull them out again just as soon as you’re up.”
Solid rubber wheels hit the timber structure and make me sick to my stomach. I’m putting a lot of trust into the structural integrity of something the guys whacked together in an afternoon. If it all collapses, if he falls, everything will be so much worse. “You can leave.” Keys jingle at the front door, then cat paws pound along the hardwood floor. Ninja’s going to say hello; the first time she’s come out voluntarily since I’ve been here. “I don’t need you anymore.”
Nacho quivers under my pillow, like she knows the wrath is coming, but that’s okay, because my heart quivers, too. Footsteps follow the sound of rubber squeaking on a timber floor, but I know he won’t allow it. Riley will not allow them in his space while he’s vulnerable, so I count out five minutes of awkward silences and throat clearing before hearing a gruff, “We’ll be back in an hour. Get settled in, but call us if you need anything. Otherwise we’ll be back with dinner and overnight bags.”
“Yeah.” The front door slams so hard, the walls rattle. “Not fuckin’ likely.” Riley noisily flicks the locks, then turns on squeaky wheels. The house turns silent, the only thing I can hear is my own heart pounding in my chest, then Ninja’s purring.
Her human is home. She’s missed him so much.
“What happened to you, Ninj? What did you do?”
I’d stay in this room for days if I could. I’d hide away and not step up to the rage I know I’ll see in his eyes when I let him know I’m here, but that would be cowardly. I’m not a coward. I’m not scared ofanything, so I stand on jelly legs and bolster my bravery. Someone must explain the broken tail, and before he comes down the hall, I need to explain the new accessories in his bathroom. They’ll hurt him. He’ll consider them a weakness and an insult, so squaring my shoulders and patting Nacho’s pillow to let her know we’re okay, I turn to the door and draw in a long breath.
Suck it up, Andi. You know this man. You know he won’t mean any of the horrible things he’s going to say.
Knowing that, and maintaining distance from the hurt are two different things. He’s going to be loud, he’s going to be mean, and when the mean doesn’t work, he’s going to ignore my existence – which might be worse than being yelled at. But I’m here, I’m prepared, and I’m not leaving until I know he’s going to be okay.
Braver, I flip my hair back and open the bedroom door. Riley was murmuring his love for the cat with a shaking voice, but at the sound of my bare feet on the hallway floor, his police instincts kick in and override the pain medication he’s on.
He silences and waits for me to appear. The hall feels like a final walk, a plank, so to speak. In jeans and his too baggy shirt – because I wasn’t done being hugged – I walk the hall until I reach the end, stop at the opening, and look into his eyes.
From wary to angry in a heartbeat, his gaze slides along my body and exposes me, but my eyes are trained on the sweatpants that stretch around a heavy black brace. He wears a casual shirt with POLICE written in white over the breast pocket. His hair is uncombed, his face is unshaven, and his eyes are uncaring.
“Leave.” His pulse jumps in his throat. Iseeit. I see his nerves. He doesn’t turn his wheelchair or escort me out. He can’t pretend it doesn’t exist if he rolls around, he can’t pretend it’s not real if the rubber wheels squeak against the floor, so he holds Ninja in his lap like an evil overlord and lifts his chin. “Get the fuck out of my house, Andrea. I asked you to leave already. Don’t make me call Alex back.”
I turn into his kitchen and pretend like my whole fucking life is fine and dandy. I pretend like the way he looks at me with pure anger doesn’t hurt me. I pretend like he doesn’t scare me. “I made sweet tea. Would you like some.”
“No.”
I shrug at the fridge.Fake it, fake it, fake it.“You sure? It’s nice and refreshing after a shitty day.” Like losing your leg is simply ashitty day.
“Get out, Andi.”
“No.” My voice shakes as I take a tall glass from the cabinet above the fridge, then on impulse, I take another and start filling them both. “I’ll fill yours in case you change your mind.”
“I said get out!”
I jump and spill liquid over the lip of my glass. With shaking hands, I finish what I’m doing, then I place the pitcher back in his doesn’t-smell-like-rotten-eggs fridge. “I’m not leaving. In fact, I think I have more right to be here than you do.”
His eyes narrow.