“I forgot you haven’t been here in years.”
The floors had been resurfaced, the old wood brought back to life. The fireplace had been redone so it reflected rustic red brick instead of the marble Mrs. Wilson had insisted on. Bridget moved into the dining room, gasping when she saw the kitchen. “Holy shit.”
“It’s a dream, isn’t it?”
“This is a chef’s kitchen. But you hate cooking.”
“Yeah, but Sarah loves it.”
“You did this before Sarah moved in.”
Eli shrugged. “I needed it for my guests, and trust me, it’s come in handy. But Sarah does use it often.”
“I can’t even—this doesn’t look like the same house you grew up in.”
“The basement does, mostly.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Want to go down or take a break?”
“You know what I want?” Bridget eyed Eli up and down, trying to decide if she could ask this one favor of her.
Eli shook her head.
“I want a shower, or a bath. I don’t care which, but I want to get the hospital grime off me.”
“I can totally understand that.” Eli grinned. “Let’s get you downstairs.”
They made it halfway down the stairs when Bridget abruptly sat down and stretched her legs out in front of her. Eli sat next to her.
“Need a break?”
“I think it’ll be easier if I go down like this.”
“Then let’s do that.” Eli smiled at her. “I’ll still make sure you don’t fall.”
“Thanks.” Bridget knew she was going to be saying that a lot in the upcoming weeks. It was going to be a long recovery, and she’d be depending on Eli for quite some time.
They took one step at a time, moving until they got to the bottom of the stairs. Bridget had been right and it was easier to go down them that way even if it was slower in some ways. Still, she felt safer doing it, as though she wasn’t going to hurt one of her broken bones in the process.
When they got to the bottom, Eli ran back up to the top to grab the scooter. Bridget wheeled herself into the bathroom, knowing exactly where it was. They had done so many movie nights down there when they were kids that she knew the basement like the back of her hand. It was her preferred place to be in the house, actually, since it was the fun zone, the zone where they couldn’t damage much and get underfoot of Mrs. Wilson.
Eli followed her into the bathroom. Bridget sat on the closed toilet seat and slowly began to pull off what clothes she could. Luckily, Eli had gone to her house and picked up a bunch of her workout sweatpants and loose T-shirts, because anything else would have been a pain in the ass to wear.
“They said you can’t get your ankle wet.” Eli bent over and started the tub full of water. “I can wrap it if you want, or you can stick it on the edge of the tub.”
“I think the edge will work well.”
“You can’t get your arm wet either.”
Bridget sighed. “You’re going to have to help me in, aren’t you?”
“Did you manage to get in on your own at the hospital?”
“They gave me a halfway-decent sponge bath one day.”
“That’s it?” Eli raised her eyebrow.