I want to ignore him. I don’t want to give a fuck about him or his wife’s worry, but I give all my fuck’s for Dee, and since this is about her, I reply:Yes.
I could expand, I could tell him she’s safe and happy, but that would be a lie. She’s neither safe nor happy. She’s crying and bleeding. And I’m an asshole that deserves a fucking beatdown because I was the cause for both.
Me:You need to come and get her out of my house. I don’t want her here.
Oz:Ha! Yeah right. I’m pretty sure she’s claiming squatter rights at this point. Good luck with your pest problem. And don’t touch the pig. She doesn’t like men.
I mean, I guess it’s good to know the pig didn’t just let herself in and start squatting, too. Andi brought her, because Andi’s always had balls of steel and zero care for what anyone else thinks. Bringing a pig into someone’s home wouldn’t even register in her brain as somewhat inappropriate.
The soft heart in me wants to meet the pig. To introduce her to Ninja, and to talk to someone other than the ugly asshole inside me that whispers I’m a freak now that I’m missing half my body. He whispers how my presence drags Andi down, how having a man in a wheelchair is possibly the worst thing that could ever happen to her.
So instead of calling out, and instead of texting her to come to me, I pat the bed once more and coax Ninja up until I have a warm body beside mine and a heartbeat beneath my hand.
My afternoon passes slowly, torturously slow, and without the sleep I was so close to touching before Oz’s text. Ninja purrs beside me, and the guys on TV make jokes. Odd piggy snorts echo in the hall, and pots and pans clang together in the kitchen until I’m sure sirens will wail in the air at some point this afternoon.
Hours and hours pass, but Andi doesn’t come to my room once. And though I know I’d be angry if she does – because my weakness is shameful, and seeing me will only remind her how low I’ve sunk – there’s still the contradictory part of me that wishes she would. She could lie against myrightside, run her nails over my belly, and rest her head on my chest. Or better yet, I could rest mine on her chest, and since I won’t have to stand, we could pretend nothing has changed. I could play with hair, tell her how I feel, explain why I’m so angry and can’t seem to shake it.
Iwon’tshake it. Because it’s best if she stays away.
But she doesn’t come to my room. And I don’t go out there.
I thought leaving the hospital would give me a type of freedom, a comfort only home could provide, but all I’ve managed to do is isolate myself in my bedroom with a full bladder, no crutches, a deep yearning to call Andi in, and a chance to beg for her back.
Give me a day to pretend. That’s all I want. One more day. Hell, five more minutes. I’ll take anything, because it’s better than sitting in here all alone with a broken spirit.
* * *
“Riley?”Andi knocks on my bedroom door at six on the dot, but she doesn’t open it. For the first time ever, she doesn’t barge in or invade my privacy. She knocks again, harder than the first time, but not super loud. “Hey, Riley, you awake in there?”
“Yeah.” My heart races at her nearness, but on the outside, I’m cool as a fucking cucumber, still angry with the world, still pissed she helped herself to my home. Muting the TV and tossing the remote down, I scratch Ninja’s ears and hold her close when her head snaps up with curiosity.
I don’t think I could survive Ninja running into the hall and leaving me here all alone. In a minute, Dee will have said what she needs to say, then she’ll leave again, closing the door and ensuring Ninja can’t sneak back in unless I can get my crippled ass out of bed to let her in.
So I don’t risk it. I hold her close and silently apologize when my arm touches her bandaged tail and her purring turns to a menacing growl. She’s going to tear me apart just as surely as Dee intends to, then they’ll leave me alone to wallow in my own filth.
Shyly, Dee cracks the door open and peeks through the one inch gap. The first thing I see are her electric blue eyes – they were the first thing I saw the night I met her, too. They were the first thing that drew me in and declared my heart would never be the same again. When her eyes scour my face and she’s sure I’m not going to blow up at her presence, she opens the door the rest of the way and walks in with a tray of covered bowls.
“Hey.” She nervously clears her throat. “Uh… I made you dinner.” Stopping at the end of my bed, the bed we made love in, the bed I tasted every inch of her skin and stroked her milky white flesh from her pert little nose right down to her feet. Like she doesn’t even notice the significance, she sets the tray on the opposite corner with shaking hands and takes a step back.
I’ve officially terrified her.
Nobody scares Andi Conner, and yet, her hands shake because of me. “It’s hot soup.” Her eyes meet mine. “I swear to God, if you throw it at me, I’m done.” Her blue eyes blaze. “I’m not playing, Riley. I get you’re in a bad space, I get you’re hurt and scared, and I know you’re in pain. I’m up in your space, and I definitely got the memo about how you don’t want me here. I get it, okay? But if you throw boiling soup at me, I’m out. I will not be a victim of abuse. Grabbing me by the shirt collar was bad. You hurt me. Youscaredme, because for a single second, I couldn’t breathe. And then you followed it up with throwing your glass. So now we’re at an impasse, and you’re straddling the line between needing help, and needing a baseball bat to the skull. Do you understand me?”
She stands tall and watches my eyes. She doesn’t let her gaze wander down my leg again. She knows I don’t want her to see, even if it’s covered by sweatpants.
Clasping my hands together in a nervous tic I never had before this moment, I can barely hold my head up under the shame of my actions. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Dee.”
She lifts a single brow and nudges the tray an inch closer. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Sorry doesn’t mean shit in my world, because my arm still has a cut, my shirt is still stretched, and I still found myself standing outside your door for five minutes just now, willing your soup to cool faster, just in case you threw it in my face.”Jab. Jab. Jab. Precise and lethal.“Don’t do it again.”
I swallow. “I swear I won’t.”
“Good.” She pushes the tray close enough that it almost touches my hip. “Eat. It’s chicken soup, and I followed the exact instructions taped inside your pantry door. It’s your momma’s soup, and a good man I used to know said it heals.”Jab. Jab. Jab.“I baked the bread, too. None of this is laced with dope, I promise, though I bet you wish you could get high right about now.”
Little bit.
Like she can read my mind, she relaxes with a smirk and leans against the end of the bed. “Maybe soon. I feel like we could both do with a little mellowing out.”
She folds her arms over her chest and changes the tone in the room. From fear, to jokes, to business. “Okay, so here’s how this is going down; you have a bum leg, and I have invested feelings to stay and help you. I’m not leaving just because you’re in a bad mood, so you can yell and cry and act like a baby all you want, but I’m sticking. If you cross the line into abuse, I’m out and you’ll never see me again. I nearly lost Lindsi because her man felt like it was his duty to hurt women, so you picked the wrong woman to gaslight. You’ve been warned; she executed that man, and she’s the nicer cousin in our duo.”