by Stacy Eaton
Josey managed to get me back in the chair, and then we transitioned to my wheelchair. I was no longer covered, and once I was seated, I grabbed a towel and dropped it over my deflated groin.
Josey and I both seemed to be lost in our own thoughts. She was probably thinking it was a waste of time to even be interested in me. I watched her as she moved around the bedroom, getting my clothes, never once looking my way.
With few words spoken, she cleaned the wound on my leg and stomach and helped me get dressed before she excused herself to change. While I waited for her to return, I wheeled out into the living room and looked around.
Is this what my life was going to be like? Was I going to be stuck in this chair for the next thirty years trying to do things for myself or having private nurses around to help me?
The urge to throw something struck me so hard that I growled and began to push myself toward the window to distract myself. An envelope on the counter caught my attention, and I stopped and turned it over. Josey’s name was written in my father’s handwriting, and I pulled it open.
I stared at the check. Well, that explained a lot. She was getting paid to help me. I shoved the check back into the envelope and threw it on the counter.
For some reason, I thought she was here because she wanted to be. Obviously, my parents had spoken to her before she’d made up her mind, and they had decided on a price. Fifty grand was a lot of money to help me for a month. That’s probably why she let me kiss her; she felt she owed it to my parents. Fuck—
I pushed myself to the window and stared out at the barn. If I didn’t get the use of my legs back, my life was wasted. All of my dreams would be down the drain. I’d be a washed up, disabled cop who would be forgotten in a few months, the guy they’d mention and shake their heads over during coffee: such a shame; he was a good cop; it’s too bad; what a waste. They’d finish their coffee and then go about their merry ways.
My jaw ached from how hard I ground my teeth.
“You ready to go?” Josey’s voice reached through my seething.
I took a second to calm my emotions before I replied. “Yeah, I am.”
I spun around awkwardly and began to push myself toward the door. Josey approached the back of the wheelchair to push me, but I glanced her way and muttered. “I got it. I need to learn to do this myself.”
“Okay.” She stepped around and opened the door, allowing me to pass through first. She followed me down the hall toward the main house. As we were rounding the corner, my mother stepped into the foyer.
“Tucker,” she started, and her hand went to her chest.
“Sorry, Mom, didn’t mean to scare you. Are you feeling better?”
She gave me a tight smile. “Yes, a little. Where are you off to?”
She kept her distance, and I wondered if it was because she was really not feeling well or if something else was bothering her.
“I have a few doctors’ appointments and therapy,” I replied as Josey went around me and opened the door without saying anything to my mother.
“Oh, okay, well I won’t keep you. Have a good day.” She disappeared immediately, and I stared at the empty foyer for a second.
Josey had to help me over the threshold bump, but then I pushed myself ahead of her and down the small ramp they’d had installed for me along the walkway to the driveway.
John, one of our stable hands, was waiting for us near a big Cadillac SUV. “Hey, Tucker! You gonna drive this bad boy?” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the vehicle.
“I wish.” I reached John, and we shook hands. He never once looked at my wheelchair.
“It’s great to have you back.” He glanced up at Josey, “Nice to meet you in person, Josey.”
“Thanks, John, and thanks for bringing the car up. I had no idea what we were going to be using.”
“No problem. The keys are inside. You need help getting this lard butt inside?”
“We should be okay,” Josey chuckled as she pulled open the passenger seat and used the controls on the side to push the seat back as far as it would go. “You ready?”
John stood by and made sure we were okay. Between my upper body strength and her patience, we had no problem getting me in the seat. She pulled the seatbelt over my chest and winked at me as she buckled it.
I pursed my lips as she closed the door. She really did see me as a toddler if she thought I couldn’t belt myself in.
“See you later, Tuck,” John called after he helped Josey put the wheelchair in the back. “Come down to the barn when you are feeling up to it. Snigger would love to see you.”
I chuckled softly and waved as Josey started the engine, “I will.”
“Are you going to be alright with a woman driver?” Josey asked so seriously that I laughed.
“Yeah, I let Camille drive all the time, and that’s in city traffic.”
“Whew, I got worried there for a second.” She playfully swiped at her brow.
“Just watch out for tractors and steers, and maybe a stray horse or two.”
She glanced my way. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, actually, I’m not.”
“Okay, I’ll keep my eye out.” She pulled down the long driveway toward the road. “So who is Snigger?”
“My horse.”
“Where the hell did you get that name?”
I rested my head back on the seat. “When he was young, he used to make this noise like he was laughing. It sounded like he was sniggering, so I used it as a name.”
Josey grinned, “That’s the funniest name I have ever heard for a horse, but I like it.”
“I’ll have to introduce you two.”
“I’d enjoy that,” she smiled my way, and I started to give her directions toward the nearby medical complex.
Josey put the radio on and a country song was playing. She immediately began to sing along. “You listen to country?” I asked with surprise.
“Yeah. Is that bad?”
“No, I never pegged you for a country girl.”
“Actually, I listen to all kinds of music, but I do like country. I’ve even been to a country bar and learned to line dance.”
The thought sobered me as I realized that I might never be able to dance again, not that I was a big dancer, but I still enjoyed holding a woman close to me and swaying to the music. I turned to look out the window and let Josey get back to singing slightly off key.
For the next four hours, we were busy. We grabbed a quick bite to eat for lunch and made it to my appointments. By the time we got home, I was too exhausted to even try to wheel myself back to the suite and let Josey do it. She helped me get back in bed, and the minute my head hit the pillow, I was out.
When I woke up, it was getting dark, and every muscle of my body that had feeling, hurt. I could just imagine how much my lower body would ache if I could feel that. I stared at my legs under the covers.
The doctor had said my stomach wound was healing nicely and told me to come back in a few days to have the sutures removed. He had also taken a look at my leg incision and given Josey a cream to start putting on it to help with the inflamed skin around it.
The therapist had talked with Josey and me for a while, and gone over the medical reports Josey had brought with her. They discussed my treatment like I wasn’t even there half of the time, and then they took me into the gym area and worked my ass off for an hour. I was dripping with sweat when we left and could barely keep my eyes open the whole way home.
The room was quiet. “Josey,” I called and heard something in the next room.
“Hey, you’re awake. I was actually going to wake you up in a few minutes so you could take your pain meds and eat. Marge is bringing dinner in about fifteen minutes.”
“How long did I sleep?” I shifted higher in the bed.
“About four hours.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, you were wiped out. I’m sure you will need that long of a nap again tomorrow.”
&nbs
p; “I hate that I sleep so much.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. “Your body is doing a lot of healing, Tucker. It needs rest as much as it needs food and exercise.”
I stared at our hands for a second and then pulled mine away and scratched my shoulder for a reason to have removed it. She pulled her hand back to her lap.
“Yeah,” I sighed, “I know.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Tuck, are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet today.”
“You mean since I kissed you?” I wasn’t going to beat around the bush.
“Well, yeah, since then. Should we talk about that?”
I barked out a laugh, “No, we don’t need to talk about that, or anything else that happened in the shower. Let’s just let it go, okay?”
Something crossed her face, and I was pretty damned sure it was disappointment, but I didn’t understand why. She was getting paid to take care of me. Why the hell would she want to talk about kissing or doing anything else with a disabled man like me?
Disabled… I already hated that fucking word.
“Alright.” She got off the bed and wiped her hands down her trim hips. “Do you want to get back in your chair for dinner, or—”
“No,” I interrupted her, “I’ll eat in here tonight.”
“Okay,” she took a step back, “I’ll bring your food in when it arrives.”
I picked up the remote and turned on the television. “Thanks.”
I saw her pause at the door from the corner of my eye but didn’t look at her. I was pissed off all over again that she was being paid to be here. I sighed as my head fell back against the pillow. I should have known that she could never be interested in a man like me, even if I had two working legs.
Chapter 21
Josey
It had been four days, and we’d found a routine. I’d wake Tucker up if he wasn’t already awake, and he’d have breakfast in bed before I’d help him to the shower. Marge had brought him a scrubber on a long handle and he had figured out how to wash his back and legs himself, so he no longer needed me to help.
There were no more falls in the shower—or kisses between us. The laughter that had seemed so natural with him had all but disappeared, and he grew sullen as the days progressed. At first, I had chalked it up to him working so hard at therapy, but now I was seeing it for what it really was. He was depressed.
Today was Saturday, and there were no doctors’ appointments or therapy sessions outside of the house. After breakfast, I worked through some light therapy with him, but he told me he needed a break after a little while and said he wanted to go back to sleep.
I sighed as I left the room, closing the door almost entirely to give him some peace. My body ached to run, and my heart ached for a whole different reason.
Tucker had pulled away from me, and it hurt. I should have expected it, but I hadn’t. I was sitting near the window looking out when I saw Theo walking to the barn. I glanced back at Tucker’s door and decided now was a good time to speak with him.
Before I left, I went back to my room and grabbed the envelope that he had left me. I’d tucked it into a book beside my bed so that Tucker wouldn’t see it. I didn’t need him thinking that I was doing this for money.
I guessed it didn’t matter what Tucker thought. Another three weeks, and I would be heading home and back to my life.
The sun was shining brightly, and the heat of it instantly brought on a light sheen of sweat. Some people would probably hate that—Ember for one—but me, I loved it. This was the first time I had really walked the grounds of the ranch, and I took my time and enjoyed the view.
There were multiple paddocks around the barn with a variety of horses scattered about. Three different men were working around the area, and in the distance, I could see cows grazing. It was absolutely stunning.
I’d love to live in a place like this someday. I’d always preferred nature to city, and I was still amazed that I lived in such a crazy one when my heart would have preferred to be out here.
I meandered into the barn and found Theo in an office just inside the door. “Mr. Wheatcraft, may I speak with you for a moment?”
“Josey, absolutely, is everything alright?” Theo stood and beckoned me in.
“Tucker is doing well. The therapy sessions are hard, but it’s good for him. He’s learning to get around on his own, and he’s even getting a bit more sensation in his legs.”
“That’s great news!”
I contemplated telling him that Tucker was getting depressed, but something inside of me told me to hold back. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to return this to you.” I pulled the envelope from my pocket and set it on the desk in front of him.
“Why?”
“Mr. Wheatcraft, I can’t accept that money. I came out here to help Tucker as a favor to a friend and because I care about him. I didn’t do it for money, and accepting that makes me feel very uncomfortable.”
“But you deserve it for everything you are doing.” He shifted and picked up the check, holding it back out to me.
“No, sir, I don’t believe I do. If you had offered me that money before I came, I would have turned you down. I’m not here to get paid, I came here to help Tucker deal with his injuries and heal.”
“But you’ve had a lot to deal with since he is in a wheelchair.”
I crossed my arms over my chest so I wouldn’t start flinging them around. “Mr. Wheatcraft, if you or your wife had bothered to come visit your son, you might have noticed that he is doing almost everything himself. He can get in and out of bed, take a shower, even get himself food, without help.”
“Are you saying we don’t care about our son?” he asked indignantly.
“I know you care about your son. I believe that you and your wife are scared of what has happened to him, and you’re scared that he’s in a wheelchair, and might be for life. Don’t you think Tucker’s scared? Don’t you think that he might need your support?” I glared at him as my heart rate began to race. “Parents are supposed to love and support their kids through everything. He hasn’t seen either of you since he got here.”
“I came to see him,” he replied quickly.
“Yeah, to bring me that stupid check. You didn’t go to see him because you were worried about him.” I took a second to calm down, “Look, I know it’s upsetting to see him in a wheelchair, and to think that he might never walk again, or be the physical man that he used to be, but he’s still your son. He’s still the incredible, loving, and compassionate man that you raised, and to be quite honest, you and your wife need to get over your own fears because Tucker needs your love and support. He’s scared to death about the future, and he knows that being in a wheelchair bothers you two. I’m watching him start down a very slippery slope of depression, Mr. Wheatcraft, and you and your wife could help him with that if you could get over your own issues.”
His nostrils flared, and I expected him to demand that I leave the ranch, but he surprised me and sank down into the seat, tossing the envelope to the desk as he did.
“You’re right,” he answered softly. “I’m scared of him—or for him, I guess I should say. Tuck has always been so full of energy and life, it’s hard to see him in a chair and to think he might never stroll right through those doors or jump up on a horse again.” He looked around his office and out the door. “I’ve been mighty selfish, and you’ve opened my eyes to that.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude, and excuse me for being so blunt, but Tucker needs you. He needs his mother. He needs to know that you two will accept him the way he is. He might never walk on two legs through that door again, but he could enter a different way and still have a full and happy life.”
Theo studied me. “You’re a good woman, Josey. I’m sorry if the check made you feel otherwise. We just wanted to show you how much we appreciate your help.”
“The only thanks that I need is to see Tucker heal and learn to deal with what life dealt h
im. I don’t need monetary compensation.”
“Understood.” He sighed heavily as he leaned back in the chair. “What can I do to help?”
“For starters, you could spend some time with him.”
“Okay, I can do that. Problem is I am normally out of the house by six in the morning and home late.”
“Well, he is usually waking up around five-thirty. You could come by in the morning and have coffee with him before you leave. It would give me a chance to go running if I knew someone was keeping an eye on him.”
“I can do that. I’ll stop by this afternoon and see him and then plan on coming to see him in the morning. I’ll talk to Gloria, too, try to get her to deal with it.”
“She might need some therapy, Mr. Wheatcraft. In fact, I’m going to schedule something for Tucker. I think he has gotten to the point in his healing that he needs to start talking about what put him in the chair and what his future might be like.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
I bade him a gentle goodbye a few minutes later and returned to the suite. Tucker was still sleeping, and I curled up on the couch and read a book.
True to his word, Mr. Wheatcraft stopped by late afternoon and sat with Tucker for a good half hour. When he left, he winked my way and whispered thanks. Tuck was in a better mood after the visit and even wanted to sit at the table for dinner.
It was late that night when I heard Tucker scream again, and I raced to his side. This time, he was still sleeping and he was writhing on the mattress and mumbling. His body was coated in sweat, and I grabbed a washcloth to bathe his forehead while I tried to rouse him.
“Tucker, Tuck, wake up, you’re having a bad dream,” I called out to him, and he finally opened his eyes and stopped thrashing as he blinked himself awake. “You’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”
Tucker snagged my hand and clung to it, holding it tightly to his chest; his heart thudded in a fast rhythm against the back of my hand.