An hour later, she felt the walls closing in. Unable to go outside her apartment for fear of bumping her arm, she sat. The evening sky darkened and the illumination from the TV became the only light in the room as night descended. She had not moved from her place on the sofa and as perky chefs darted around the TV kitchen, whipping up culinary delights, her mind did not focus on anything but the cold that began slithering around her.
She tried to not look at her arm but with it propped on the pillow in her lap, it was hard not to see the still-reddened skin puckered around the metal frame holding it together.
The days in the hospital had run together and she could no longer remember what day it was. She reached for her phone, checking the date. Sucking in a quick breath, she realized the next swim trials had been yesterday. Surprised her father had not mentioned the events, she flipped the channel over to ESPN. It only took a few minutes before the results were on the screen. The TV filled with the large swimming pool and the splash of water as the swimmers dove in. Skipping to the results, she watched as her competitors finished, all swimming over to congratulate the winners, now the official Olympic team.
She recognized all of them since she swam with them for years in various meets. She heard the cheers. She could even swear she smelled the chlorine. She should have been there. That should have been her, excited to be one step closer to her dream. Maybe if she had given it more, given it everything, like her dad, this would not have happened. If only she had a second chance. She would be completely dedicated, never second guessing a thing. Never wondering about the friends she did not have or the love life she was giving up.
Jaxon’s face came to mind and a sob caught in her throat. His warmth, his strength, his heart. Would she really trade him for a second chance?
Her phone pinged an incoming text. Looking down, she saw it was from him. Laughing without mirth, her eyes watering, she read,
Do you feel like company or are you resting?
Her finger instinctively hovered over the yes reply, but she halted, her throat burning with unshed tears. Turning her phone to silent, she tossed it to the side.
Sitting in the dark, with the flickering light from the TV showcasing the loss of her dreams, she felt more alone than she ever had in her life. The death of a dream crept along her spine and for the first time, she realized life was never going to be the same, regardless of what her father wanted.
And the tears came.
Jaxon sat on his motorcycle parked on the street outside Morgan’s apartment, waiting to see if she would answer his text. He could see the mostly dark interior, lit only by the flickering lights of what, he assumed, was her TV. Maybe she’s asleep. She probably took a pain pill. Hopefully, she’s resting.
He knew he should head home but hated to leave. Her world’s turned upside down. It was as though he could feel her anguish through the walls. Walking to her front door, he placed his hands on the wood, his fingers hesitating at the doorbell. Hearing a slight noise from the inside, he glanced behind him to assure himself that he was alone, and placed his ear against the door.
The sound of a sob hit him and he closed his eyes. Knocking softly, he was not surprised when she did not answer. Turning his back to the door, he slid down, resting his hands on his bent knees.
Pulling out his phone, he began to type, a quote from author Jon Katz coming to mind.
Please Morgan, know that I care. “Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff.”
After a moment, he heard a slight shuffling on the other side of the door. He jumped to his feet so that she could see him if she peeked through the peephole.
“Jaxon?”
He heard her soft voice and closed his eyes for a second. “Yeah, I’m right here.”
“I don’t really feel like seeing anyone right now. I’m…uh…getting ready for bed.”
“Sure, that makes sense. I just wanted you to know that I was here. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Jaxon, I don’t know that I’m ready for…I…don’t know…I…”
He listened as her voice drifted off and said, “Morgan, you don’t have to be ready for anything. But, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, until you’re ready for company. So, take care and sleep well.”
He held up his hand to the door and waited, unsure for what, but just knowing he wanted to touch something that was hers even if it was not her.
On the inside, Morgan watched through the security hole and lifted her right hand, placing it flat on the door as well. Closing her eyes, she could swear she felt his palm against hers. Breathing deeply, she watched as he turned and walked to his motorcycle. She continued to watch as he tossed his hand up in a wave before roaring down the road.
And the tears came anew.
18
Morgan shot her mother a text and asked her parents not to visit today, saying that she was resting well and would see them another day.
The reality was she had barely slept. She had been sure that leaving the hospital would allow her to finally rest but, unable to find a comfortable position last night, she had given up on her bed and moved back to her sofa where at least the drone of the TV kept her company.
Standing, she walked into her kitchen and stared at the bottle of pain reliever. Having forgotten to ask her mother to open them before she left the day before, she fiddled with the bottle, unable to unsnap the child-proof cap. Blinking back tears, she moved into her bedroom and pulled out clean clothes. Carrying them with her right hand, she walked into her bathroom.
Staring at the shower, she flipped on the water, hoping she would be able to at least wash away the hospital smell from her hair. Exhausted after wrestling one-handed with her clothes to get them removed, she moved into the shower. Just as she turned around to keep her arm from getting wet, she bumped it on the shower door.
Pain sliced through her and she dropped to her knees, the water hitting her in the face. Barely able to reach up to turn off the water, she crawled onto the soft bath mat and curled into a ball, tears of pain and anguish flowing freely.
Her phone buzzed and she now hoped her mother was calling to say she was coming over anyway. Answering without looking at the caller ID, she cried, “I can’t do it. I can’t do it alone in this tiny space. I need help.”
“Morgan?”
She heard Jaxon’s voice and cringed. “Oh,” she sniffed, wiping at her tears, but unable to stop them. The nerves in her arm felt on fire and another sob slipped out.
“Baby, I’m outside. Can you let me in?” Her breath hitched and he said, “I can jimmy your lock. Do you give me permission? Morgan, please.”
Still curled up on the bathmat, pain and frustration overtaking her mind, she mumbled, “Mhh hmm.”
Within a minute she heard footsteps approaching and before she had time to process what was happening, he was there, his face filled with concern.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said softly, throwing a large, soft towel over her shoulders, covering her now shivering naked body. Kneeling, he gently assisted her to her feet, wiping her tears with his thumbs.
Maneuvering her carefully down the hall, he had her sit on the edge of her bed. Quickly arranging the pillows behind her and on her left side where her arm could rest, he pulled the covers up over her.
Looking up at him with watery eyes, she whispered, “I couldn’t get the Ibuprofen bottle open.”
Without a word, he turned and hurried to the kitchen, returning with several pills and a glass of water. She took them, swallowing the pills gratefully.
Setting the glass on the nightstand, Jaxon sat next to her on the bed. Leaning forward, he brushed a long strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were dull, the color of a stormy sea, with dark circles underneath. Her hair, limp and tangled. Her face, pale and tear-stained.
“Talk to me, Morgan. Tell me what you need,” he coaxed.
She sucked in a shuddering breath an
d shrugged her shoulders slightly. “I’m lost,” she said, her voice whisper soft. “So fucking lost.”
He shifted around to the other side, careful to not jostle her arm. Thinking of what Miss Ethel said, it was obvious that Morgan had slid from denial to sadness, but he was not sure where anger or bargaining was. Miss Ethel said no one goes through the stages of grief the same way. Just be what she needs at each stage.
Deciding to let her draw comfort from his body, he pulled her gently over so that her head rested on his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, his hand moved slowly up and down her back. “Just talk, babe. Anything that needs to come out, let it out.”
Morgan said nothing for a few minutes, the only sound in the room her ragged breathing. Soon, the gentle touch of his hand on her back began to penetrate the cold and she said, “Nothing’s the same. A week ago, I was on top of the world. Now…I’m nowhere.”
He said nothing, so she continued. “At first, all I felt was numb. My arm was numb, and my mind was numb. Now, all I feel is pain.” Her breath shuddered again. “I can’t find a position to sleep. I can’t take a shower. If I bump my arm at all, the pain is so intense.”
“What about staying with your parents…at least for a little while?”
Snorting, she took the proffered tissue and wiped her nose. “I’m so tempted. Just to go and let my mom smother me, do everything for me, but then there’s my dad. He’s relentless on my getting better as soon as possible so that I can start intense training again. It’s always in my face now what a disappointment I am. He doesn’t mean it like that, but that’s how it feels.”
His hand stopped rubbing for a few seconds, then he asked, “I don’t want to bring up an unpleasant subject, but you can’t participate in this year’s Olympics, so the next one is four years away. Why is he so impatient?”
Letting out a long, slow breath, she explained, “People who did not get chosen for this Olympics are already in training for the next one. They’ll work hard for four years to be ready. Every month I’m not in peak physical condition, there’s someone out there who is gaining on me.”
A sob ripped from deep in her chest again and she said, “I can’t think about it. I don’t want the constant reminder from Dad that I’m losing ground every single day. But I may have to. I’ve been home less than twenty-four hours and I’m a mess. I can’t do anything on my own.” Another sob hitched her voice as she added, “I’m so tired. So fucking tired. I’m trapped between worlds and don’t know which way to turn.”
“Oh, babe,” he said, holding her tight. “You have so much more healing to do and you’re not giving yourself time to do it.”
“But, I don’t know that I can do it here,” she said, defeat oozing from her soul.
“Then let’s go somewhere where you can.”
Lifting her head, she twisted around to stare at his blurry face with her watery eyes. “Huh?”
“My place,” he suggested, sure and definite.
Wiping her nose again, she sniffed, her brow lowered in confusion. “Your place?”
“Yeah. Think of it, Morgan. This place is too tiny. You need a larger place to move around with your arm full of hardware that shouldn’t be bumped. You’ve seen my bathroom with its big, walk-in shower and double sinks. My kitchen is larger than yours and is open to the living area, which is an open, warehouse plan. I always thought it was just utilitarian, but now that I think of it, it’s perfect for you right now.”
“But—”
“No, really, consider it. Look, my place is bigger and easier for you to get around. I’ll be there to help, but you’ll still have your privacy because of my work shifts.” He cupped her face with his palm and held her gaze. “It’ll be a perfect place for you to land back on your feet.”
“This is nuts—”
“Why?”
“Because, we barely know each other…and that’s a big commitment on your part…and you only have one bedroom…and…uh…”
He chuckled and nodded. “Okay, good points. We are new friends, but when you moved in with your first college roommate, did you know her very well?”
“No. We were just picked by the university to be dormmates.”
“So, you at least know me. With my job, the commitment on my part will be to help with your injury and taking care of stuff like cooking while you’re recuperating. That takes those headaches away from you, so you can just relax more and concentrate on healing.”
“Okay…” she said, her eyes never leaving his, not able to believe she was considering his proposal. “What about the one bedroom?”
“Do you trust me?”
Blinking, she jerked. “Trust you? Well, yes…uh…yeah. I do.”
“I have a king-sized bed, as you know. I may be big, but I don’t need to take up more than half. And I may be a guy but, Morgan, I can control my baser instincts. I promise, you’ll be safe with me.”
He wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and smiled as she stared open-mouthed at him. Bending forward, he placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, and whispered, “Please, come live in my world for as long as you need. Let me take care of you.”
Nodding slowly, she sucked in her lips, the feel of his mouth near hers sending tingles throughout her body. “I may be crazy, but yes…I’ll come with you.”
He laughed and slid from the bed, careful to not jostle her arm. Stalking to her closet, he threw it open and found a suitcase on the top shelf. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll pack it.”
“The Ibuprofen is working so I can help,” she said, standing to move closer. Supervising his packing, she watched as he threw her comfy clothes and toiletries into the case before snapping it shut. “My mom stocked my freezer, but it will be fine to leave here for when I return.”
“You can let her know where you are later, once you’re settled in. It’s a good thing I drove my Jeep over. We’ll be at my place in no time and can have breakfast there.”
She smiled, glad to not be heading to her parents’ house nor staying in her tiny apartment. A strange sense of freedom moved over her as she looked around. She slid her feet into slippers and followed him out the door.
As he settled her carefully into the passenger side and buckled her in, she looked at his face, so close to hers. “Why are you doing this for me?” she asked, her gaze pinning him in place.
His face was mere inches from hers as he opened and closed his mouth several times. Finally, he said, “Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
Her breath left her lungs in a rush. “Where did that come from?”
“Anaïs Nin. From her diary. It meant something to me and I guess I just memorized it.”
She had no words to say so she leaned forward and placed her lips on his in a soft, subtle kiss. Leaning back against her seat, she murmured, “Thank you,” with a smile.
19
Jaxon did not give himself time to think about his offer but was glad that Morgan had accepted. This time, as he escorted her inside, he noted a sigh of relief escaped her lips. He watched her enter, protective of her arm, but once inside his large, open apartment, she seemed to breathe easier.
“You okay?” he asked.
Nodding, she said, “Yeah. When I was here before, I thought your place was nice, but now that I’m injured, I see it in such a different light. You’re right, the kitchen is open to the rest of the room, so there is less of a chance for me to hit my arm. The space is wide and with few, but comfortable, furnishings. I can move around easily.”
“Good. Now, I need to get you settled so I can fix breakfast.”
Her gaze jumped to his and her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh, what about your work?”
Grinning, he said, “I’m off today, so I’ve got all day to see to you and make sure you have what you need here.”
He watched as she wobbled slightly and he dropped her bag. “Okay, first things first. W
e need to get some food in you and then we’ll work on the shower.”
Not giving her time to think about the shower assistance, he moved her to the sofa and helped her sit down, making sure her feet were up and she had a pillow for her arm. Heading to the kitchen, he chattered as he fried bacon slices, scrambled eggs, and popped bread slices into the toaster. After a few minutes, he noted she was no longer responding and he glanced over. Her head was leaned back against the sofa at an angle that looked uncomfortable, but she was sound asleep.
He turned off the stove and walked to her, standing over her, his hands on his hips. Her dark red hair was pushed back from her pale face. The smattering of freckles over her cheeks captured his attention and he smiled. Then, his gaze dropped to her arm, resting on the pillow. The skin around the stitches was only pink now, and not angry red. The skin around the pins protruding from her arm was also healing well. Jesus, babe. What I would give to take this from you.
For an instant, he realized if it was not for the accident, she would not be in his apartment or in his life right now. Pushing that thought away, he squatted in front of her and placed his hand on her good one.
His heart ached as he remembered seeing her slumped in her bathroom, crying her heart out at all she had lost. “You’re not going to be lonely anymore,” he vowed softly.
Gently shaking her, he said, “Hey, Morgan? Wake up, sweetheart. I want to feed you, help you shower, and then tuck you into bed where you can rest without breaking your neck.”
Jaxon: Heroes at Heart Page 13