Their Forever Home

by Syndi Powell

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  She turned to Cassie. “We’ll have your husband as good as new in no time.”

  “She’s not my wife,” he exclaimed, then winced. “Just a friend,” he clarified in a barely-there whisper.

  Dr. Harrison looked at them with some amusement. “I stand corrected.” Then she left them alone.

  Cassie moved to his side. “Why do they keep thinking we’re married?”

  “Probably because we sound like it.”

  She sighed and put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, but I was scared. What if this creep had done more than just knock you out? This partnership doesn’t work without you.”

  He swallowed and stared into her eyes until he got dizzy and had to close his own. “I’m going to be here a while if you want to take off now. They won’t let me go until they’re done with their tests.”

  “No, I’m staying. I just need to make a quick call.”

  As she left the room with her cell phone, the nurse returned with a tray of scary-looking needles. He grimaced at the sight of them. He’d never been very good with needles, and the nausea he’d been feeling intensified. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  * * *

  IT WAS AFTER seven that evening by the time John was released into Cassie’s care. Because of his concussion, he couldn’t stay alone but needed to be woken every couple of hours. He protested when she volunteered to go home with him, but Dr. Harrison overruled him. “You need someone with you just in case. And your friend here doesn’t look like she’ll take no for an answer.”

  Cassie pulled the truck up to the ER entrance and assisted him into her vehicle. He gave her directions to his apartment, but she waved them off. “I’ve been there before, remember? I know the way.”

  “What are you going to do about your dog?”

  “I called my sister. She took Evie home with her.”

  She had to drive down his street twice before she admitted defeat and double-parked in front of his building. “I’ll have to let you off here and then drive further to park.”

  “I can walk.”

  “I’m not taking a chance.” They exited her vehicle and she made sure he’d wait in the lobby and not be so stubborn as to go up to his apartment on his own. She ran back out to her truck to find a parking spot for the night.

  Surprised to find John still sitting in the lobby, she whistled. “You’re getting better at listening to directions.”

  “Maybe I’m too tired to fight with you.”

  He stood, and she put her arms around his waist. She was so much shorter than him, but he put his arm around her shoulder, and they ambled to the elevators.

  Once she got him to his apartment door, he fumbled with the keys until she took them from him and unlocked the door. “To the couch or to bed?”

  “My bed, thanks. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  As they shuffled down the hallway, she thought of making a joke about him finally inviting her inside his bedroom but figured he wasn’t in the mood. They got to the foot of the bed, and he collapsed on top. Carefully, she helped him get comfortable. She removed his shoes, then looked at his jeans. Should she volunteer to take them off for him?

  “Leave them on,” he said, answering the unspoken question.

  “You might be more relaxed with them off.”

  “I’m not letting you take off my clothes.” He closed his eyes and put an arm to his forehead. “I’m letting you off the hook. You can go home now.”

  “Nice try.” She noticed the tall dresser near the closet with beveled doors. “I’ll get you some shorts to change yourself into after I leave the room. Is that okay?”

  “Fine. Third dresser drawer.”

  She noted that he’d painted the walls an indigo blue, similar to hers. While it made the room dark and appear smaller than it was, it also made it feel like she was cocooned and safe, which was the effect she’d wanted in her bedroom. Finding a pair of shorts with an elastic waist, she pulled them out and laid them on the bed beside John. The bed was large and had several pillows lined up against the wrought iron headboard. Maybe she could do something like that in her bedroom.

  John moaned, and her focus immediately switched back to him. “Do you need some pain medication?” The doctor had sent them home with a prescription that she had had filled at the hospital’s pharmacy. The medicine now waited in the small white paper bag John had flung on to the nightstand before lying on the bed.

  “Please.”

  She left the bedroom and found a cut crystal glass in the bathroom and filled it with water from the faucet. Returning, she noted that John had propped himself on several pillows. She handed him the glass of water and a couple of tablets, which he swallowed. His eyes closed, and she helped him lie back down. Looking around the room, she didn’t see a blanket, so she pulled the comforter over him from the other side of the bed. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be in the living room. Shout if you need me.”

  But he already seemed to be out like a light. She left the bedroom slightly open so she could hear him if he called her. In the living room, she set the alarm on her phone so that she could check on him in two hours and plopped down on the sofa.

  This was not how she had planned to spend her evening, but given what had happened, there was nowhere else she’d rather be. She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes.

  Next thing she knew, her cell phone alarm told her it had been a couple of hours and that she had to wake up John. She stood, her stiff muscles protesting. Stretching her arms up and out, she walked down the hall to John’s bedroom.

  He lay sound asleep on his side, just as she’d left him earlier. She stepped forward and observed he had long brown eyelashes that brushed his cheeks, which looked a little pink. Frowning, she put her hand to his forehead and thought he had a slight fever. She put a hand on his shoulder and tapped softly.

  “What?”

  “Do you know what day it is?”

  “Sunday.” He opened one eye and peered at her. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re running a temp.”

  “I have a thick comforter over me, and it’s the end of June.” He pushed the covering away from him. “It’s warm in here.”

  “I didn’t know where to find a lighter blanket.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She frowned at him. “You’re cranky.”

  “I got hit over the head, and it hurts. I deserve to be a little cranky.”

  She cocked her eyebrow at the word “little.” He was a lot cranky in her book, since he was usually easygoing. It was too soon for more pain medication. Maybe he was hungry. “I can fix you some soup.”

  “No.”

  “Too hot for soup or you’re not hungry?”

  “I don’t think I could keep it down.”

  “Saltines then? And some ginger ale?”

  He buried himself in the pillow, and she reached over to move his hair away from his forehead. “You don’t have to take care of me like that. I’m a grown man.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be back.”

  In the kitchen, she opened every cupboard, trying to find crackers. He didn’t seem to have much food, so she checked on him one more time before slipping out of the apartment and heading to the drugstore she’d seen across the street. Fifteen minutes later, she returned with saltines and Vernors, Michigan’s answer for everything from tummy aches to nausea. She placed her purchases on the kitchen counter, then walked to the bedroom to see if John was okay.

  The bedroom door was ajar, and she found that he had changed into the shorts and flung his jeans on the floor beside the bed. She picked them up and folded them before placing them on top of the dresser. At least he’d be more comfortable. She checked his forehead and noted it felt c
ooler. Good.

  She returned to the living room. At loose ends, she turned on the large-screen television and settled on the couch to wait until it was time to wake up John again.

  * * *

  “JOHN, WAKE UP.”

  Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to find his personal tormentor standing over him. “Again?”

  “Every two hours. What month is it?”

  “June.” He closed his eyes again. “See you in two hours.”

  Moments later, he heard his name again. Groaning, he opened his eyes. “I thought you were going to let me sleep.”

  “It’s been two hours. What day is it?”

  “Is it after midnight?”

  “It’s almost four.”

  “Then it’s Monday. Can I go back to sleep?”

  He resumed his dream about trying to go through a room while being hit by wood planks. One hit him on the back of the head, and he sat up, gasping. Ugh, he shouldn’t have done that so fast. It felt like ice picks had stabbed him in the nape of his neck and both eyes.

  The bedroom door swung open, and light from the hallway spilled inside. “Are you okay, John? I heard you shouting.”

  “Just a dream.” She leaned over and put her hand on his forehead. He reached up and put a hand over hers. “Really. I’m fine.”

  “It’s time for more pain medication. And you need to take those antibiotics.” She left the bedroom and returned moments later with a glass of water. She handed it to him and shook out the required tablets into her hand. “Here you go.”

  He hated being helpless. Hated having to be looked after. He was an independent man who took care of himself. He didn’t need her. But he swallowed the medication down.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got hit in the head by something heavy.”

  She smiled. “Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten anything since lunch. I’m not much of a cook but I saw you had makings for sandwiches.”

  He could use something to eat. “Did you get saltines?”

  She stood. “I’ll bring them to you.”

  He shook his head, but then winced at the pain. “No. I need to get up and move.” He pushed the sheet off and carefully swung his legs to the side of the bed. She hovered around him as he stood, ready to catch him if he fell. But he stayed upright and took a few steps. “I can walk on my own, thanks.”

  “I’m here if you get dizzy.”

  Slowly, he was able to walk to the living room without any help, but the kitchen seemed so far away and he chose the couch instead. Cassie retrieved the box of crackers and pulled out one cellophane sleeve for him. She left and returned with two tall glasses of ginger ale with ice.

  They sat on the sofa as she watched him eat a couple of saltines. “You don’t have to keep such a close eye on me. I’m okay.”

  “Just making sure. I’ve never had to take care of anyone before.”

  “You take care of your dog.”

  “Evie is easy. Some kibble and water. Walks. And a belly rub before bedtime.” She peered at him. “I’ve never had to actually look after another human being before.”

  “And what do you think?”

  She shuddered. “I’d rather be mudding some drywall.”

  He grinned and ate another saltine. Cassie pointed the remote at the television. “Want to watch something?”

  “Not much on at four in the morning.”

  “The local news is.” She found the channel, and they settled in companionable silence as stories about vacation dos and don’ts and car insurance rates played out. The weather report said that the week would be hot but dry, which meant good news for the Buttuccis, who would be painting the house’s exterior.

  “The Belvedere Foundation is in the spotlight again as an assault at one of their contest homes occurred yesterday afternoon.”

  Both Cassie and John sat up and leaned forward. He was a news story? That hadn’t happened before.

  “Due to the incident, work on all houses will be suspended while the police investigation is being completed. A spokesperson for the Belvedere Foundation stated that they are adding more security measures to ensure the safety of all those involved in the project.”

  Cassie whistled. “This is definitely a twist no one had planned on.”

  “I’ll call the brothers later to make sure they know about the update.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “If I hadn’t been there, hadn’t gone inside to investigate...”

  “We’d still have a damaged house. And it could have been worse. Maybe now the foundation will take security seriously.”

  He reached up and touched the back of his head.

  “Careful. Don’t mess with your stitches,” she warned.

  They’d had to shave off part of his hair to suture the wound, and he wondered how it looked. “Can you go get the hand mirror from my bathroom?”

  “You want to check out their handiwork.”

  “Something like that.”

  She left the couch and returned with the requested mirror. Holding it at an angle, he tried to get the right position to see the back of his head. Finally, he gave up and laid the mirror on the sofa. Cassie joined him on the couch and tucked her feet underneath her. “Trust me. You don’t want to see it.”

  He sighed and leaned his head back, but that made him feel dizzy, so he sat up once more. “I guess not.”

  “I have to tell you something, but I don’t want you to get upset.”

  He turned to look at her, but she kept her gaze on the floor. “I got a call last night from Mr. Belvedere. They want us to meet him in his office this morning at ten.” She glanced up at him. “Do you think he’s going to fire us?”

  “He can’t fire someone that technically volunteered for the job in the first place.”

  “What if he says we’re out of the contest?”

  He reached out and put a hand on her knee. “It’s not our fault that I got attacked. That someone is sabotaging our work.”

  “Right. But that’s not the part that’s going to make you upset.”

  He steeled himself for what she would say. “Okay. What else?”

  “Your phone got a bunch of calls last night, and I might have told your mom you got hurt.” She was biting her lip, clearly worried. “Are you going to kill me?”

  The fact that his mother hadn’t arrived at his apartment threatening to hurt the man who hurt her baby meant Cassie had defused the situation well. “What did you tell her?”

  “That you got injured, but you were all right. And that I was watching over you so she didn’t need to visit.” She paused. “Did I handle that okay?”

  His mom was probably delighted to hear that her bachelor son had a woman keeping an eye on him. At brunch the day before, she had been on his case about moving on after the end of his engagement. “You did great.”

  “I thought she was another reporter at first or I wouldn’t have answered it.”

  He frowned. “Another reporter? How many called?”

  She picked the phone up off the coffee table and handed it to him. “I lost track after seven. I told them all ‘no comment.’ Eventually I put it on silent because it wouldn’t stop ringing, and I was worried it would wake you up.”

  “Thanks.” He checked his call history and found a dozen missed calls and half as many voice mails. Closing his eyes for a moment, he realized how tired he still was despite sleeping most of the evening away. “I’ll check them later.”

  She rose from her spot on the sofa and helped him lie down before bringing him a pillow. He wondered if he’d felt her lips pressed to his forehead before sleep overtook him.

  * * *

  CASSIE REQUIRED
MORE than one carafe of coffee to make it through the rest of the day, she decided. After getting up every two hours to wake John, she felt as if she hadn’t slept at all herself. She started a second pot of coffee since she knew they would both need the caffeine. John entered the kitchen, and she passed him his mug of coffee just the way he liked it. She’d found two travel mugs to take with them to the meeting with Belvedere. “We’ll have to leave in a half hour.”

  He didn’t respond as he took his first swallow of coffee.

  They were meeting with the people at the Belvedere Foundation, and he’d need to change out of the shorts he’d put on last night. “Do you need help dressing?”

  He stopped drinking long enough to look at her. “You’re not helping me.”

  “You can’t wear that for this meeting.”

  “What about you? You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday.”

  She looked down at the outfit she’d thrown on before heading to the house after John’s call. “I don’t have a choice. We don’t have time to run by my house before the meeting.”

  “I might have something you could use.”

  “Your ex-girlfriend’s clothes? That’s not a good idea.”

  He crooked his finger, and she followed him into his bedroom, where he opened the closet doors and started to bring shirts out. He held a soft pink button-down one up to her. “It will be big enough on you to look like a dress. I’ll give you a belt to cinch it in.”

  She slipped the shirt off the hanger and held it up to her body. “I’ll have to roll the sleeves up, too. And it will only hit me midthigh, if I’m lucky.”

  “So keep your shorts on underneath. We can make it work.”

  “You’ve done this kind of thing before?”

  “Hey, needs must.” He pulled out a knit shirt for himself. “I don’t think I could put on a tie today. Can you tie one?”

  “Never tried. Are you sure you’ll need one?”

  “Good point.”

  She grinned. “Like you said, we can make it work.”

  She walked into his bathroom to change. She was swimming in the shirt, but maybe his belt would make a difference. Who would have thought that she would look almost fashionable? More so than she usually did anyway.