by Emilia Finn
Maybe I could tolerate the leg if my dick worked.
Maybe I could go to the stupid appointments and make her happy, I could learn to walk again, I’d work really hard at physio, and earn a job I like, then I could still support her.
If only I wasn’t broken.
The front door slams and echoes through the house, splintering my heart, and tempting me to run out and catch her. If only I could run. If only I could pick her up and bring her back.
I got exactly what I asked for; to be alone, for her to save herself.
I don’t know if the moisture on my cheeks is shower water or tears – well, I do know – but I pretend they’re from the shower and scrub them away with the palm of my hand. Preparing for another lift, I grab hold of the shower handle and bring myself up. My head swims dangerously, the perils of sitting in a steaming hot bathroom for so long, and threatens to send me sprawling.
I refuse to be a victim. I will not fall in my own fucking shower three seconds after finally convincing Dee to leave, so I lean against the wall and breathe through the dizziness. I pull the air in so deep I can feel my lungs straining against whatever is healing inside my gut. I let it out again on an explosive exhale and tap my fingers against the shower wall in a patterned thrumming to give myself something to think about for just a moment.
When I’m certain the black dots wont win and send me to the floor, I slowly turn on my right foot and study the fluffy towel sitting on the toilet.
Just get to the toilet. Sit down. Dry off. One step at a time.
Hopping just once, then sliding half an inch with a pounding heart, I stop again and clutch to the railing with heaving lungs. My adrenaline runs triple time – because Dee left, and because I was this close to slipping and ending it all – so I take a moment to pull my shit together, then I shuffle rather than hop and make my way to the toilet.
Sitting with a grunt, and running the towel over my body to collect the excess water, I find another ten minutes of my life – maybe twenty, who knows – pass me by while I stare at the tiles and reconsider sacrificing Dee. She helped that old vet walk again, so maybe I can hire her to help me. It doesn’t change the inevitable, but it keeps her close for a little while longer. It keeps her here on a professional basis, so sex won’t ever come up, it provides her with an income, which in a warped way, means I’m supporting her. My savings won’t last forever, but a couple months…
I could have Dee for a couple months, then I could start the process of pissing her off all over again until she’s gone for real before the foreclosure signs go up in the yard.
My plan has so many holes, it’s ridiculous, but it provides me with a moment of relief as I consider an alternate reality.
Bracing with one hand on the toilet and reaching out for my crutches, I pull them closer and have to constantly remind myself I can’t step forward. It’s programmed in my head; step forward, keep my balance, but there’s nothing there now, and stepping onto my stump might legitimately kill me with the pain.
I slide the crutches under my arms and prepare the next part of my journey – across wet tiles and out the door. I should’ve planned this better. I should hire someone to come in and install non-slip mats throughout the whole bathroom.
But that would cost money, and if I’m spending my savings, I’d rather use it to buy time with Dee.
Moving forward slowly and stepping onto plush carpet with a relieved sigh, I move around the pile of clothes still on the floor and choke at the sight of her jeans on top of my sweats. Her top lies inside-out on top of my coat.
Slowly moving to the walk-in closet, I select a pair of clean sweats and a long sleeve shirt. My house is still freezing, and my balls threaten war if I don’t warm up fast, so I toss my clothes across the room until they land on the foot of my bed, then stopping by the pile on the floor, I risk it all and slowly work on bending low. I squat on the one leg, strain the unused muscles almost until they fail, and barely snag Dee’s top with the tips of my fingers. Standing again and panting like I did something more herculean than a single squat, I stand with the crutches under my arms and bring her shirt up. With my eyes closed and a heavy heart, I breathe her in until her scent goes down to my toes and swirls in my chest.
Five more minutes.
Please God, just give me five more minutes with her.
I was never a religious guy – not as a boy, and not now as a man, despite my mother’s encouragement to believe in the deity – so of course my prayers go unanswered. Why would they grant my wish when I pray only when it benefits me? And if there is a higher power, then he or she already took my leg, which proves their thoughts on my life and choices not to worship over the last thirty years.
I’m on my own over here.
Moving to my bed and sitting on the end, I start dressing in fresh clothes and absorb the pleasure of being clean again for the first time in weeks. My body feels lighter, my head clearer, my pain just that little bit more tolerable.
Pulling on the sweats and rolling up the left to expose my… stump, I turn and pull my shirt over my head and shove my arms into the sleeves. Parts of my body are still wet, so the fabric sticks to my skin, but I’m clean for the first time since my world ended, and Andi finally walked out on me, so I’ll accept the small victory in being clean and able to do it on my own, and I’ll inhale the scent attached to her shirt until I can accept she finally left.
I think I’m supposed to wrap my leg again. I think I’m supposed to keep it wrapped and braced basically all the time, so I pull myself back to standing and maneuver the crutches under my arms.
The bandages are in the kitchen, and right now, that seems so far away it may as well be in another country, but since I’m a dick and push everyone away, I need to take a more involved role in my recovery. I need to ask more questions.
No one else is going to do it.
Hobbling toward my bedroom door, I open it wide and step onto the hardwood floor. I’m faster on my crutches now, so when I get going, it’s more of a glide, rather than a baby giraffe standing for the first time.
Ninja darts across the end of the hall, running from kitchen to living room like the world is her playground, but her playfulness is a welcome distraction…
Until I step into the kitchen and stop at the sight of Andi sitting on my kitchen island with one leg folded over the other, and her light eyes representing the devil himself. “Dee?” My heart skitters in my chest, slamming hard and stealing the breath from my lungs. “I thought you left?” I clear my throat. “I mean, I told you to leave.”
“But honeypie, I couldn’t possibly leave my fiancé in this dire time of need.” Her eyes twinkle. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to leave my smoochie-poo when you’re so obviously in need of a caretaker, so I’m just gonna park my ass right here, and I’m never leaving you.” She lifts a hand and points a finger in my direction. “Never. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. You can just consider me your forever girl, baby, because I’m a woman obsessed.”
“You’re fuckin’ insane is what you are.” And so unbelievably sexy, it almost – almost! – makes my dick twitch. I hate that she’s playing crazy, but inside, I just think she’s cute. I hate that I want to keep her forever and never, ever, ever let her go.
Moving forward on my crutches, I stop in front of the counter and grab her wrist to pull her down. “You have to go, Dee. You have to live your own–”
Andi’s arm comes around so fast, I don’t see it coming. I don’t see the silver glint. I don’t see shit until she snaps the cuff around my wrist and slams the lock home.
“What–” I’m in shock. My brain literally can’t compute. “What the fuck?”
She slides off the counter until our chests press together. Lifting her bound hand, she shows off a delicate wrist wearing the other cuff. “I learned this was a good tactic to keep a runner close. I’m not leaving, you stupid asshole, so if this is what it takes to get my message across, then this is what I’ll do.” She bounces her b
rows and slides her spare hand over my pec. “I’ll carry you to bed if you like. I can make you forget your troubles for an hour.”
“Dee…”
She ignores my growl and stands on her tiptoes. Before I can process what the fuck she intends to do, she nips at my jaw, crunches down hard enough it sends electricity to my stomach, then slides her tongue over top to soothe. “Yeah. You think I didn’t hear you call me Dee in the shower? You think I don’t hear it now? You don’t want me to leave any more than I want you to say you don’t want me. Stop with the martyr bullshit and admit you wanna fuck me. Then once we finish fucking, you can admit you love me, too.”
“Andrea. You need to undo these cuffs.”
“No.”
“You need to leave my home.”
She bites my jaw until I hiss. “No. We need to be a team. I’m already here, I’m already cheering you on, I’m just waiting for you to get on side.”
“I don’t wanna fuck you.”
“Yes, Riley, you do.” She slides her fingertips over my nipples. “You wanna taste my pussy too, huh? Remember what that tastes like? Remember what I feel like when you fuck me against the couch? When my pussy wraps so tight around your cock you can hardly move? You want some more of that, don’t you?”
Yes. “No.” I pull our hands up and rattle the cuffs. “Let me go, Dee. I need to wrap my leg before it gets dirty.”
“I’ll help you.” Without warning, she slides her tongue into my mouth and draws a long sigh from my lungs. “You still taste so good. You taste like home.”
“Andi…” Breathing heavily, I lean forward and rest my forehead on hers. She undoes me, and she knows it. “I’m begging you to leave me be. I can’t be who you need.”
“Not with that attitude you can’t.” She slides her hand across my chest and up to cup my face. Dragging it up until our eyes meet, she lifts a perfectly sculpted brow and nods. “You’re exactly who I need. You’re exactly what I need. And you’re the only person on this planet that I’d go full crazy for to the point I end up with a fake engagement ring and my stalker-ass cuffing myself to a man. So let’s wrap your leg, let’s hang out and stop pretending we hate each other, let’s get on the same fucking team.”
16
Andi
Last Ditch Effort
Sitting forward on the couch, I bury my smile against my shoulder when I reach out for my glass of wine and inadvertently yank Riley’s hand forward.
He lets out a literal growl and pulls me back when I get my hand around the wide glass. “This is super fucking annoying, Dee. Undo the cuffs.”
“Your whining is super fucking annoying, Cruz. Not even a desperate stalker will stick around for long if you keep that shit up.” Sitting back on the couch, I bring my feet up and tuck them close to his thigh, forcing him to keep my toes warm. Bringing my glass of fruity white wine to my lips, I have to swallow my giggles and try not to choke when his hand has to follow my movements. He’s fighting me on this, he’s fighting so hard he’s going to give himself a hernia, but listening to him growl Dee time and time again is reason enough to stick around.
When he makes it to Deedee, I’ll know I’ve basically won.
“Riley.” I dig my feet in when he moves away. “Stop squirming, dammit. I’m trying to enjoy wine and a movie with my fiancé. You’re ruining it.”
“I’m just gonna go to bed.” He brings our hands up and half spills my wine. “I’m not playing, Dee. Undo these now and let me go. If you don’t, I’ll just call X and have him open them.”
“You gonna call the big, bad, sheriff? It’s awesome how I found every single set of keys in this house, huh? If you were less organized like me, you might’ve left a set in a random place and could be in control of the handcuff keys right now. But because you have a nasty case of anal retention, I knew where to look, I knew how many sets you have, and now I know where they’re all hidden. Tell me, Cruz? What do you know?”
“I know how to kill a person and make it look like an accident.” He’s going for scary, but the look in his eyes says something else entirely. “I know how far out of town I have to dump your body before it becomes someone else’s jurisdiction, and thus, you won’t get Alex or Oz on your case.” Again, he squirms and yanks on the cuffs in frustration. “Get the fucking cuffs off, Dee. I need to go to bed.”
With narrowed eyes, I set my wine glass down and turn on the couch until I’m on my knees and looking down into his eyes. I glance to his rapidly moving chest, to his belly moving with his breath, to his pale cheeks and glassy eyes, then finally, down to his bad leg. “Riley, on a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in right now?”
“None, just undo the fucking cuffs!”
“Why won’t you let me help you?” Leaning closer, I basically rest my chest against his arm and drop my non-cuffed hand to his thigh. His eyes snap down to my hand, his breath coming in fast little pants as I start massaging the twitching muscle. “You’ve been out of the hospital for a week, missing twelve percent of your leg for three weeks. You’ve been taking your medication religiously, because you’re a good boy. But you don’t tell a soul about the muscle spasms, do you?” I slide my hand over the top of his thigh, digging my fingers in deep and fighting the muscles that cord and battle to be released. “Is it like a tingling sensation? Numbness?”
“It’s like someone is shoving a fork into my foot.” Finally, finally he admits a weakness. “It’s like the fork is in an electrical socket, and now it’s stabbing my foot.”
“Riley…”
His voice cracks. “My foot isn’t even there, Dee! I can’t tell someone my left foot feels like it’s on fire, because there is no left foot!”
I lean closer, use my strength to uncoil the spasming muscle just above his knee, and use my eyes to distract him from the phantom pains he’s too scared to tell anyone about. “It’s okay to not be okay, Riley.” I press my lips to his chin. His jaw. The soft flesh behind his ear. “To be able to heal, you need to be able to rest. How often does the phantom pain kick in and drag you out of sleep? How many nights have you lain awake in that room and not told me? Huh?” I lean back. “How long have you suffered and told no one?”
“Every night,” he admits on a grunt. The nerves that used to run down his leg and into his foot now have nowhere to go. They’re literally live wires that dangle in the wind, zapping him and bringing him pain. “This has happened every single night since they took it.”
“Baby…” I don’t stop working on his leg, but I do lean around him and press our lips together. This morning, I might’ve wondered if he’d punch me in the face and tell me I had it coming, but now, I accept the sigh that transfers from his lungs to mine, I slide my tongue over his bottom lip, and I pray I’m bringing him comfort and diverting the electrical currents that zing through his leg. “I’d really like for you to let me in, Riley.”
I want to sob when he brings his hand up and tucks my hair back.
It was getting in the way – of my eyes, of our lips.
“Let me help you, because whether you like it or not, I’m still gonna be here, I’m still going to try, but if you let me, we can do it together and make it better faster.”
“Okay…” Closing his eyes, he drops his head and steals his lips from mine. “Okay. For now. You can help.”
“Forever.” I press a kiss to his forehead. His brow. His cheekbone. Lifting his face with my nose, I slide my tongue over the single tear that glistens on his cheek. “I actually kinda love you. The kind where my heart went and got involved, plus, word on the street is we’re engaged, so I’m staying here.”
He chokes on a laugh. Refuses himself the freedom to find humor in his situation. “For now.”
“Come on.” Pulling back, I climb off his couch and take his hand. “I have something I have to do, but since we’re cuffed together, you’ve gotta come, too.”
He reaches out for his crutches with a frown. “You could just undo the cuffs.”
“Ha! F
unny story; I actually have no clue where the keys are. You’re literally gonna have to call Alex at some point to release us.”
I wait patiently while he gets the crutches into place and pulls himself up. I stand close – approximately four centimeters away – as he brings the crutches under his arms and scowls as the silver chain clangs against the crutch. I step back when his eyes come to mine in question. “We’re just going to the kitchen. It’ll be good for you to get up for a minute anyway, then you can sit on the counter while I work.”
I walk with him across the living room and around the island counter. Our hands dangle close, our steps perfectly timed. It’s all fun and games to cuff myself to the man, but if I go too fast and pull him off balance, I won’t ever forgive myself.
“Do you want me to get the wheelchair?”
“No.” Grunting to clear his throat, he stands taller, prouder, and keeps moving forward. “No chair. I got it.”
“Okay.” I don’t move too fast, but I angle us toward the fridge, take out the ingredients we’ll need, then shuffle toward the pantry. “I’m gonna bake you some brownies. The special kind, and you’ll enjoy them.”
“The speci– Dee! Pot brownies? No!”
“Yes. It’ll make your pains go away. No one’s gonna arrest you for having a laced brownie, Riley. You’re allowed to not be a perfect boy scout once in your life, and I swear, it’s not going to turn you into a meth head user. So this is what we’re doing. For the first time in…” I pause. “I don’t even know. Years. I’m gonna get stoned, we’re going to do it together, then you’ll sleep like a baby for the first time in weeks. We’ll both sleep for the first time in weeks. Tomorrow, we find another way to cope. I know a million things we could try.”
He moves with me as I take out a mixing bowl and toss the last of the laced butter into the microwave – he’s had it in his fridge this whole time and had no clue.