by Hart, Rebel
And after he shook his head at me, the two of them dipped into his car.
I scrambled out of my bedroom after that. I had to power clean some things. The kitchen sink was full of dishes, courtesy of the asshole that had just left. I wanted to vacuum the living room floor. Clint and I had a movie night on the books. One where we’d order pizza, curl up underneath some blankets, and watch movies until we passed out on the couch. Or upstairs in my bedroom. I grinned at the thought. Holy hell, Mom would shit bricks if Clint came down the stairs tomorrow morning.
Then again, she and D.J. would be snoring too loud to hear us doing anything in the morning, anyway.
I scrubbed at the dishes before rinsing them off in the sink. I stacked them neatly in the dish holder, letting them drip-dry on the counter. I pulled the vacuum out of the closet and struck it up, chastising myself for getting so sweaty. I had less than an hour to pull everything off. Especially since Clint was already halfway through his physical therapy appointment.
“Come on. You gotta get a shower still.”
I ran the vacuum over the carpet as quickly as I could. Spot-treating it, really. Just to make it look a bit more decent. I shoved it into the closet and kicked the cord underneath the door, hoping it didn’t come springing back out at the most inopportune moment. I ran up the steps, taking them two by two. Wanting nothing more than to barge into the bathroom and take the hottest shower alive.
But I settled for a cooler shower. Cold enough to get me to stop sweating without chilling me to the damn bone.
Out I hopped, ten minutes later, with a towel wrapped around my body. I rushed into my mother’s bathroom, digging out her blow dryer. I didn’t want my hair dripping wet for Clint once he got here. Especially if he wanted to play with it.
Oh, I loved it when he played with my hair.
I flipped my head over and felt the heat blast against my neck. I didn’t know how to turn the heat down on the blow dryer, though. Was that even a function? So my neck began sweating. And my face. By the time my hair was dry, the rest of me was wet again. From the damn hair dryer being much too hot.
“Fuck.”
I toweled myself off as I walked into my bedroom. I looked at the clock, groaning as my eyes read the time. Shit. It was already six o’clock. He was getting out of his appointment now, which meant he only had to cross town to get here.
“Gotta hurry, Rae,” I murmured to myself as I rushed around with my fan on full blast. Trying to stop the sweating as I worked up yet another one. I pulled on some clothes and ran a brush through my hair. I fanned my face, trying to get the redness to stop pooling in my cheeks. I lay down on my bed, spread eagle, letting my damn crotch and my armpits air out.
I was so fucking nervous to have Clint over, it almost made me sick.
Why he insisted he come over after his last physical therapy appointment I wasn’t sure. But who was I to say no? I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted to celebrate this moment with him. His first round of PT was over. And after a check-up tomorrow afternoon at the hospital, we’d know whether or not he needed another round. With every passing day for the past three weeks, he’d gotten stronger. He needed less and less help to get to classes. His bruises had faded into small, yellow patches of skin and his limping completely ceased.
Watching him heal had been an incredible journey.
But feeling how close we had become had been even better.
My phone ringing on my bedside table caught my ear. I reached over for the phone, hoping and praying it wasn’t Clint. Because I knew there was the slimmest chance that he’d be too tired to come over. I slapped my hand over my phone and pulled it up to my face. I saw Allison’s name and smiled. Just who I wanted to talk to. She’d know how to calm my nerves down.
Until Allison blurted out what she wanted to say.
“Michael asked me to go to a movie tonight!”
I paused, my jaw falling open. “He did what?”
“Yes. Yes. I’m sorry. I wanted to call and see how you were doing and all because I know Clint’s coming over but… Michael asked me out!”
“Ah!”
I squealed on the phone with her as I jumped up from my bed. I bounced around, shaking my hair out and pumping my fist in the air. Finally. Fucking finally! Michael had grown a pair of balls and asked Allison out on a date. I flopped back down onto the bed, my lungs panting softly for air as my hair splayed out along the comforter.
I smiled. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so fucking happy for you.”
Allison giggled. “You think it’s a date, right? This is a date?”
I paused. “Of course it’s a damn date!”
“Because, you know, he didn’t specifically use the word ‘date.’ I mean, he said, ‘Do you want to go to a movie with me tonight?’ Not ‘Do you want to go on a date with me tonight?’”
“Allison.”
“I know. I know. I just—I really don’t want to read anymore into this than I should.”
I grinned. “He’s asked you out on a date. I promise you.”
“So I’m not crazy? You know, getting dressed up and doing makeup and borrowing Mom’s jewelry?”
I giggled. “Not crazy at all. I want you to have fun tonight. But make it easy for him to make a move on you during the movie.”
“Wait, what?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“What kind of move? You think he might…?”
I snickered as I sat up in bed, listening to Allison whisper the word. Like it was so dirty.
“Kiss me?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re seventeen years old, Allison. Pipe up.”
She sighed. “What do I do if he tries to kiss me? Or hold my hand?”
“Do you want to kiss him or hold his hand?”
“I mean, maybe?”
“Allison.”
She sighed. “Maybe a little bit.”
I smiled. “You mean a lot a bit?”
“Shut up.”
I laughed softly. “If he makes a move and you want it, then let it happen. You know how Michael is. If he wants something, he’ll initiate it. And if you’re not ready, tell him that. But, don’t sit there with your arms crossed over your chest or some shit like that. Just be open. Be you, because that’s all he wants.”
She giggled. “I can do that.”
“Promise?”
“Yep. I promise.”
“Good. Now, I have to go. I still need to put myself together before Clint gets here. I expect a call in the morning telling me all about this movie!”
“If we watch it.”
I gasped. “Allison!”
She laughed heartily into the phone. “Love you, mean it!”
My jaw fell open in shock as she hung up the phone. Did my little Allison just make a comment about not actually watching a movie with a guy? Holy hell, my little girl was becoming all grown up.
“Way to go, girl.” I smiled to myself as I tossed the phone back onto my bedside table. Then I walked over to my mirror and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to tame some of the frizz. My cheeks were still red from rushing around, but the sweating had stopped. I made my way back into my mother’s bathroom and found some of her body spray, so I decided to take some liberties.
And those liberties led into other trials. Other experiments. Other curiosities.
Soon, I smelled like something called ‘cotton blossom’ and looked like a damn clown. I turned on the hot water, splashing it in my face and trying to get it all off. Some of the makeup didn’t actually come off. The mascara didn’t run. The blush didn’t budge. I gawked in the mirror as I scrubbed at my face, putting as much hand soap on my skin as I could manage.
Then, I looked down at the makeup I’d tried and groaned.
“Holy fuck, it’s waterproof.”
I searched around in the drawers for something to take this shit off. And through it all, I lost track of time. I finally found some makeup remover and doused it on a washcloth, hoping it was enough. I wiped it over m
y face and the makeup magically came off. Like a key slipped into just the right door. I breathed a sigh of relief as I scraped the putty off my face. Layer by layer, cursing myself for being so damn stupid.
Then, with my face redder and puffier than ever, a knock came at the door downstairs.
Just. Fuck.
26
Clinton
“So, do you want to go ahead and do the evaluation? Or do it tomorrow?”
I paused, wiping the sweat off my brow. “I mean, if we can knock that shit out now, sure.”
The therapist chuckled. “All right. Well, go ahead and stand up for me. I’m going to run you through a series of tests.”
“You mean, more torture.”
He grinned. “If you need a breather—”
I held up my hand. “No, no. I got it. Just… let me finish my water.”
I’d be damned if I’d let this fucking accident get the best of me. I’d been going at this physical therapy hard. Harder than ever before. I did all these exercises when I wasn’t in my therapy classes. Two, sometimes three times a fucking day. I refused to let it beat me. I refused to be crippled for the rest of my life. I refused to never feel the rumbling of a bike between my legs again. Or feel the wind wrapping around my body as I cruised down the highway.
I mean, Dad and Cecilia weren’t on board for something like that yet. But I was trying.
“All right, Doc. Hit me with it.”
My therapist laughed. “Hold your arms out. I’m going to press down on them, and you fight back.”
I grinned. “You mean I can punch you in the face?”
“Not that kind of fighting back.”
“Be more specific next time.”
We laughed and bantered through the test. And while I still wasn’t happy with how much work it took to get through those damn exercises, I proved a lot. I had most of my range of motion back in my arms. My collarbone was strong. All the bruises had healed up, leaving me with only the emotional and mental scarring of that night. My muscles felt better than they had in weeks. My ribcage no longer hurt. My back had straightened itself out and those vertebrae had slipped right back into place.
For once, I felt like myself again.
“All right, Doc. Give it to me straight. How did I do?”
I slumped down into my chair after the evaluation was over. Cecilia stood in the corner, clapping her hands softly and cheering me on. My therapist handed me another bottle of water, watching me as I cracked it open with ease.
And a smile slid across his face.
“You want my personal or professional opinion?”
I took a swig. “Why not both?”
He sat back. “Sounds good enough. Well, personally? You’re doing fantastic. You’re strong. You’re stable. It’s obvious you’re not in any sizable amount of pain anymore. And the strength you’ve gotten back in your body is outstanding for only a month of in-and-out-patient therapy.”
“So, what’s your professional opinion?”
“In my professional opinion, you’re clear to make a full recovery.”
I leapt out of my chair, sending the water flying into the air. My therapist launched out of his, clapping me on the back as I hugged him tightly. I buried my face into the crook of his neck. I hopped around as Cecilia rejoiced in the corner. She came up and hugged me, pulling me away from my therapist. I picked her up and swung her around, still feeling the smallest twinge in my ribcage. But not much.
Not compared to what I’d gotten used to.
The therapist laughed. “Let’s get you a follow-up appointment on the books for three months out. You know, just to check on you and make sure you’re doing okay. I’ll take the liberty of cancelling your appointment with the hospital tomorrow.”
I set Cecilia down. “Thank you. So much. I really, really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, man. Come on. Let’s get you checked out and I’ll give you a formal list of exercises to keep up twice a day. Every day.”
I felt like I’d been saying that a lot lately. That I was appreciative of people’s efforts. But it was the truth. Cecilia, for sticking by me day in and day out with all this shit. For my therapist and the cursing he put up with to get me to this point. For Rae, and Mike, and Aly. Their support in school and huffing around my books when they didn’t have to.
Rae, especially. For helping me keep my head above water with my grades.
I really have to thank her tonight.
Cecilia walked with me to the check-out desk. “What kinds of issues should we keep an eye out for?”
I snickered. “Already losing faith in me?”
My therapist grinned. “Honestly? I don’t think there will be any trouble. He’s strong. And he’s only been getting stronger. But keep an eye out for the usual things. Unexplainable bruising around rehabilitation sights. Any sort of a fever spike. Redness, tenderness, or being swollen in these areas. Also, backsliding. If, for some reason, he backslides in pain or mobility, come back and see me immediately.”
Cecilia nodded. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out.”
I got myself checked out with my appointment. Scheduled just before we broke for Christmas break. I offered my arm to Cecilia, walking her out to her car instead of the other way around. It felt nice, escorting my stepmother to the car. For weeks, she’d been the one escorting me. Holding tightly to my waist in an attempt to get me to the car safely. And while I’d been appreciative of everyone’s help over the past few weeks, it felt nice to help myself again.
Even if Dad wasn’t here to witness any of it.
“So how are you feeling?”
I smiled at her question. “I’m feeling great. Really.”
“Good. You still got plans with Rae tonight?”
I nodded. “At her place, yeah. Is it still okay if you drive me over there?”
“I mean, I’m certainly not going to make you walk.”
“I’d drive myself if there was another car here for me to use. But for some reason, Dad decided to park his at the airport this time around.”
She sighed. “I know exactly why your father did it.”
I snickered. “Well, I was going to play dumb, but…”
The two of us had a small laugh at his expense, but it was a tense sort of laughter. I knew convincing the two of them to let me have another bike would be almost impossible. That was definitely a purchase I’d have to save up for on my own down the road. After I graduated and got out from underneath my father’s hawk-like eye. But having a regular car didn’t seem completely unreasonable.
Until Dad randomly started outright refusing me access to his.
It wasn’t as if I’d driven it much. I preferred my bike, mostly because I didn’t have to ask his permission to use it. But there were a few occasions where I’d needed to use his car because my bike was in the shop or something. And he’d never been hesitant to give me his keys.
Now, though, he was actively keeping his car away from me. Getting it out from underneath my claws. Like hiding his keys. Or locking it down in the extra garage we had around back.
Or driving it to the fucking airport instead of having Cecilia take him so he could park his car in long-term parking.
My stepmom sighed. “I’m working with him on it. But you know how your father is.”
I nodded. “I know. I know how he is. I know it’ll take some time to convince him that I’ll need a set of wheels again.”
“You know he won’t go for the bike, though. And neither do I.”
“Trust me, I wasn’t even dreaming of asking you guys about it.”
She cranked up the car. “Good. Because I didn’t want to fight with you about it.”
I snickered. “I don’t think we could fight if we wanted to.”
“You think?”
And when I looked over at her, I shook my head. “Nope. I know.”
She smiled at me as she backed the car out. Then we made our way out of the parking lot. She started heading toward ho
me, getting out on the main roads and getting hooked up on every stoplight. It was frustrating, to say the least. I was ready to see Rae. Ready to hold her in my arms. Ready to give her the good news.
Ready to bend down and kiss her lips without it hurting so damn much.
“Well, let me work on your father a bit more about getting you a car. I think I know a sweet spot that’ll work.”
I chuckled. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to. That’s all I’m saying.”
She slapped my knee playfully. “Hey, now. I don’t know what kind of woman you take me to be, but I can class it up when I want to.”
“Which is why I still don’t understand how you fell for Dad.”
She sighed. “There is a side to your father you don’t see much. A kind, romantic, and very caring side of him.”
“Yeah, well. Let him know that sometimes it should come out to play with his son, too.”
“What? You want him to send you two dozen white roses and some dark chocolates?”
I burst out laughing. “You’re an absolute mess.”
She giggled. “A mess that’s trying to get you some wheels so you can have your independence back.”
“Thank you for that, though. Seriously. I know I wouldn’t even be able to have that conversation with Dad without him biting my head off.”
“Well, I think you should have your freedom back. Especially now that this police investigation is winding down. It’s becoming clearer and clearer to everyone involved that you weren’t responsible for what happened. That should be enough to earn you your independence back.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“I mean, just look at it from a practical point of view. You shouldn’t be relying on others to get around. You’re eighteen years old. You’re months away from graduating. And soon, you’ll be off doing your own thing. You’ll need a car to coordinate the life you want. Especially since your bike was completely totaled in the crash. There’s no reason in this world why we can’t take that insurance money and put a down payment on a car for you. It makes no sense.”
“Take a left here.”
“Got it.”
“Cecilia?”