His head turns to mine, his eyes slowly blinking open and closed. He mumbles something unintelligible then gulps and tries again.
“Zu . . .”
Zeus?
I squeeze his hand. “Zeus is with Alec. He’s being taken care of.”
He closes his eyes. Sherrie walks in, Rachel trailing her.
She booms, “Hello, Mr. Brooks. How are you feeling?”
His eyes open again and he slow blinks up at her before they close again.
“Oh, you’re going to be all Sleeping Beauty when you have these pretty girls here waiting for you to wake up?” she teases as she checks his vitals.
“Is it okay that he’s not waking up?” I ask.
She nods, giving me a gentle smile. “It is perfectly normal.”
I try to return her smile; but by the way her eyes soften, it’s clear I fail.
“Give him another fifteen minutes and he’ll be less groggy,” she adds before leaving the room.
Rachel goes back to sit in the chair in the corner. We moved his bag and leg so she could have a place to sit. Luckily, the other bed in this room has remained empty since I’ve been sitting in the chair that’s probably reserved for visitors for patients in that bed.
I give his hand a squeeze, happy to see his eyes open again, and his eyes shift in my direction.
I lean closer to him and whisper, “Hi.”
His forehead creases as his brows move closer to each other. “MmMmMcKenzie?”
I nod, my eyes getting wet at how scratchy his voice sounds.
I lift my hand not holding his and quickly wipe my eyes. “Yes, it’s McKenzie.”
“I, I feel funny,” he mumbles.
“You are in the hospital.”
His eyes widen and I continue, “You were hurt and had surgery.”
At this, he lifts his head, his shoulders moving a bit as he tries to sit up, but stops almost as soon as he starts, his head falling back down to his pillow.
He inhales quickly through his nose, his nostrils flaring. I let go of his hand and lean over him, putting a hand on each of his shoulders.
“Calm down, Mitch. You’re okay. Zeus is okay, and”—my breath hitches—“I’m okay.”
His eyes snap to mine.
“You saved me.” I sniffle. “I don’t know how you knew I was in trouble, but you did.”
His eyes on mine, soften, his face relaxing somewhat.
“How did you know?”
He opens his mouth then closes it and his eyes at the same time.
“Don’t push him.” Rachel urges from the corner.
My eyes stay on him, but I nod, ashamed for tiring him. I start to lean back into my chair; but pause to kiss his cheek and whisper, “Thank you,” before I do.
Twenty minutes later, he’s more awake; and while Rachel and I wait in the hall, he speaks to two police officers. I don’t recognize either of them from earlier, but it all happened so fast.
When they finish, they let us back in.
Rachel glances back and forth between Mitch and the door before whispering to him, “We told them I was your sister so they’d let us back here. Cool?”
He looks exhausted, but manages a smile and nods.
It’s shortly after that Sherrie comes back in letting us know it’s time for him to be moved to a different room.
Mitch sucks in a breath; alarmed I look to where his eyes are focused to see what has caused him to do that. Rachel, eyes wide, looks back and forth between us. It’s then I realize she has picked up the bag holding Mitch’s things and his leg.
I’m not sure why; but it’s clear seeing his leg has upset him. I turn from her and rest my hand on his shoulder to get his attention.
“Don’t worry, Mitch. We’re going to take care of you.”
His jaw tenses, his face shutting down before he looks away.
Sherrie watches our exchange, her expression sympathetic. I step away from his bed and take his leg from Rachel. I’m not sure if he sees this or not, but I want to make a statement. Together, we follow Sherrie as she pushes his bed out of his room and down the hallway leading to the elevator. From there, we move to the third floor, down another long hallway, and past a nurses’ station until she reaches room 340.
“This will be your home for the next couple of days Mr. Brooks,” she says, pushing him into the room.
Rachel follows her in while I hesitate just inside the door.
“I hope you have a speedy recovery,” Sherrie offers in parting and leaves, pausing to give my arm a squeeze before she goes.
It’s then I venture further into his new room, eyeing a semi comfortable looking chair next to his bed. The night, and all of the drama from it, has finally caught up to me. All I want to do is collapse into the chair and sleep for the next decade.
Rachel looks just as wiped.
“Babe, take my car and go home so you can get some sleep,” I say, moving toward the chair and falling into it.
She stifles a yawn and asks, “Are you sure?”
I nod, shifting to get comfortable.
“You should go with her,” Mitch mutters from his bed, his eyes to the ceiling.
“I’m staying,” I return offering no room for argument.
“I want you to leave,” he argues anyway.
I stand, planting a hand on his bed, so I can look him in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Mitchell Brooks.”
McKenzie is the most stubborn woman I have ever met. No matter how hard I’ve tried to push her away, she is determined to stay. The only thing worse than being taken care of out of pity is guilt. That’s the only reason I can guess that she won’t leave me alone.
Her ex stabbed me while I interrupted his attempt to abduct her. Now she’s made herself my personal Florence Nightingale while I recover. She acts as if my prosthetic doesn’t disgust her. She acts like it didn’t bother her that I needed help to get to the bathroom.
Any hope I had with her is long gone. Before she knew about my leg, I never saw pity in her eyes, now it’s all I see. She’s also taken over my life. All I want to do is get back to my place and pretend like none of this ever happened.
When they release me from the hospital, instead of taking me home, she brings me to Alec and Rachel’s house. Her reasoning, she doesn’t want me to have to deal with stairs until she decides I’m ready for them; and Alec and Rachel’s house has a ground level back entrance to their basement.
Since the basement also has a bathroom, she has decided this is where I will complete my recovery. No matter how I rail and argue with her, she just shrugs and does what she wants.
One of them, Alec or Rachel, was sent to collect Zeus’ stuff and my wheelchair from my apartment. As pissed off as I am, Zeus has all but fallen in love with her. I haven’t forgiven him for that betrayal yet, not that he seems to mind.
“Ready for lunch?” she chirps, coming down the stairs.
“I’m not hungry.” I grumble.
Looking better than any woman should in a pair of cut off shorts and a tank top, she shakes her head at me. “Come on, Mitch. I made you a BLT.”
She’s carrying a tray, said BLT on a plate on the center of it, a bag of chips, and some sort of fruit smoothie next to it. My mouth starts to water. She comes closer, setting the tray across the arms of my wheelchair.
“Eat up,” she orders before sitting on the double-sized bed I’ve been using; folding her arms across her chest, she gives me a look that dares me to see what’ll happen if I don’t eat it.
I glare at her and take a bite.
Damn her. It’s the best BLT I’ve ever had.
She watches me eat the entire thing before she takes my tray away and speaks again.
“Want to try walking for a bit?”
I shake my head, still getting over the embarrassment of our last walk. Zeus on the other hand starts jumping up and down at her suggestion.
I glare at him. Traitor.
“Two against one,” she sings, “looks lik
e you’re outvoted.”
My hands go to my wheels and I start to back away. She’s too fast; she jumps behind me and presses the back lever to lock my wheels. Short of hopping, which would jack up my wound or crawling, which would probably do the same thing, I’m at her mercy.
She gets both my nylon and silicone liners; and without any hesitation, pushes the leg of my track pants up to expose my leg. Her touch burns as she skillfully rolls each on. Once she puts my leg on, I don’t fight her, and stand so it clicks into place.
Kneeling in front of me, she adjusts the leg of my pants until it falls back down, covering my prosthetic. I avoid her eyes as she stands, shame coursing through my veins. Even during the first days after I lost my leg, I never felt this level of impotence. Back then, I was one of many, all struggling with similar injuries, some more severe than others. What I never had to deal with was the woman I was attracted to having to care for me.
It’s humiliating.
There’s a constant ache in my side. As my body heals, my skin has lost its elasticity to move without a sensation of tightness. The stitches within my gut, that keep me from bleeding out, will dissolve; the ones on the outside, which closed the hole her ex created, will need to be physically removed. It itches like hell as my skin works to meld back together.
McKenzie waits by the sliding glass door to Alec and Rachel’s backyard, with Zeus by her side. I give both of them a dirty look as I slowly make my way over to them. She ignores my dark mood and grins in response. It’d be a lot easier to stay pissed at her if she wasn’t so damned gorgeous.
There’s a half step from the door to the patio. I ignore her offered hand and grip the frame of the door as I lower one foot and then the other. McKenzie closes the door behind us. A subtle incline runs from their backyard to the gate leading to their driveway and front yard.
The soreness in my side intensifies as we negotiate the incline. My soreness is perfectly normal, per my doctor, and I need only be alarmed if I have any sharp pains. The sight greeting me in their driveway causes me to stop cold.
Less than twenty feet away, standing next to a car with rental plates are my mother, father, baby sister, and aunt.
Shit.
I aim a glare at McKenzie; and this time, she has the decency to look nervous. Zeus stays glued to my side, his presence keeping me calm.
My mom and sister, oblivious to all of this, rush over to hug me. I stiffen, and they both step back. My dad wraps an arm around each of their shoulders, his eyes on me.
“Son,” he says, and I close my eyes.
When I open them, I see my mom wiping tears from her eyes, my sister ignoring hers, letting them run unchecked down her face. My aunt is next to approach. She doesn’t hug me, but she holds my eyes, hers wet.
“It’s good to see you, Mitchell,” she says.
I make no reply and start to turn back toward the house; but grasping one of my hands in hers, McKenzie stops my progress.
“When you were in the hospital, Alec stopped by your apartment to get stuff for Zeus and tell the office what happened so they wouldn’t freak out that you weren’t there. The woman in the office called your aunt and got her in touch with Alec. After talking to him, they decided to come up because they were worried and wanted to see how you were doing.”
“We love you, Mitchell,” my mom cries, before turning her face into my father’s chest.
I gulp and look at my feet before looking back up at my family.
They’ve managed to change, but somehow still look the same. Liz, my sister’s hair is shorter and lighter. It suits her. My mom’s hair is also shorter and graying; my father, whose hair was only thinning the last time I saw him, now has a full on bald spot. My aunt, not embracing the gray has started coloring her hair. That, plus her seriously tanned skin and the deep v of her shirt tells me, she’s still on the hunt for my uncle’s replacement.
McKenzie lets go of my hand and introduces herself by offering her hand first to my mom. My mom takes one look at her hand before ignoring it and pulling McKenzie into her arms. McKenzie jumps when Liz joins their hug, also wrapping her arms around them both.
I take a moment to thank heaven that my father and aunt abstain from joining the group hug.
“Please call me Cindy,” my mother says once she and Liz release her.
“I’m Liz.” My sister grins at her.
“Joe.” My father offers her his hand.
“Cathy.” My aunt lifts her hand in a wave.
“Hey, everyone,” we all hear called from the front door as Rachel approaches us.
“I’m Rachel.” She introduces herself to the group, stopping next to Zeus to pet his head.
“I understand it’s been some time since you all have seen each other,” McKenzie says after no one moves.
“His doctor said Mitch, um Mitchell, needs to walk a bit every day. We were going to go check the mail. Would you like to join us?”
They all nod, and it takes everything I have not to say something. My family, not in Florida, but here, in North Carolina, are ready to help me walk to a mailbox. I’m not sure what is more humiliating, McKenzie putting on my leg, or being part of a seven person and one dog procession to the mailbox. Their house sits at the highest point of their yard so the driveway down toward the box is at a decline, though more gradual than the pitch of the backyard.
Once we reach the box, McKenzie does the honors.
She cringes, “Um, no mail.”
I turn not waiting for the rest of them as I walk back up the drive. Unfortunately, I’m slow, so they quickly catch me.
“Let’s sit on the back patio,” Rachel suggests.
There’s a simple screened in porch off the basement. A plastic table, chairs, and grill are its only decoration. McKenzie helps Rachel carry three camp-style folding chairs from the house so everyone has a place to sit.
“Anyone thirsty?” Rachel asks once the chairs are set up.
She doesn’t wait for an answer and pulls McKenzie into the house to help her, leaving me alone, save Zeus, with my family.
“You look well.” My father breaks the silence that ensued once they left.
I nod.
“We miss you.” My mother, who chose the seat next to mine, reaches her hand out to clutch mine.
Aware of my distress, Zeus slides his head under my other hand, which is resting on my lap, so it now sits on his head. I move my hand slowly over his soft fur, looking down at him as the tension slowly eases from me.
“You didn’t have to come.” I speak my first words to them, outside of Gramercy Square related news to my aunt, in years.
“Mitchell,” Liz gasps, “you were stabbed.”
“I’m fine,” I argue.
“We wanted to see that for ourselves,” my father argues.
“McKenzie seems sweet,” my aunt remarks innocently, changing the subject.
“She’s really pretty,” Liz adds.
“She’s just a friend.” I try, knowing that I’ll never get them to believe she’s anything less than that, even though I intend to distance myself from her as soon as I can.
My aunt smirks at my response.
The back door slides open as Rachel and McKenzie rejoin our group carrying a couple bowls of chips and a pitcher of lemonade with some glasses.
Without asking for one, McKenzie pours my glass first, my aunt not sparing me a knowing look as she hands it to me. Letting them believe whatever they want, I ignore this since I know the truth. The only reason McKenzie is doing any of this is because she’s a nice person who feels bad for me.
With her lemonade in hand, she sinks into the chair next to me as Rachel serves everyone else a cup.
Placing her hand on my forearm, she leans toward me, her lips near my ear.
“I know you just ate, but do you want any chips?”
I shake my head.
She shifts back into her chair.
She does not remove her hand.
It seems torture is on t
he menu today.
Or, more aptly, a one-man show, I didn’t sign up for, starring me. My father and aunt manage polite conversation with McKenzie and Rachel. This, while uncomfortable, was something I could deal with. What I could not deal with were my mom and Liz staring at me, their hopes so clear on their faces. They shouldn’t have come; all I’ll do is disappoint them.
One uncomfortable hour later, my family leaves, with promises to return for dinner. McKenzie gets me settled back in the basement room, ordering me to take a nap.
She kneels in front of me and starts the process of removing my leg.
“I can take care of myself,” I grumble.
She ignores me and replies, “Why were you at my house that night?”
How would she react if I told her the truth, that I was obsessed with her.
“Mitch?” She calls.
My eyes focus back on her. I hate this. She shouldn’t be kneeling on the floor. She shouldn’t be taking care of me.
“Get up,” I growl.
Zeus lifts his head from his new dog bed and watches us. Her eyes widen, but she ignores me. I try to shift back, but she holds tightly to my leg.
Frustrated, she snaps, “Stop fighting me.”
The moment I feel my silicone liner roll off my leg, I lean forward, despite the soreness in my side and slide the nylon liner off myself. Instead of standing, McKenzie leans forward, resting her hands on my thighs.
“Why won’t you let me help you?” she asks.
I shake my head and move to roll onto my side so my back is to her. She lifts her hands, allowing my body to shift.
Facing the wall, I reply, “I want to go home.”
The bed dips and, shocked, I realize she’s on it moving upward, crawling on her hands and knees until she lies in front of me, facing me.
As she lifts her hand, my body stills and I watch in fascination as she slides her fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes and from my face.
“You need a haircut.”
I close my eyes. “I want to go home.”
She presses her hand to my chest, right over my heart, and it stutters at her touch.
Chasing Daylight Page 10