Like every night we’ve slept in this bed, she curls closer to me. I’m not tired but that doesn’t stop me from lying with her. My hope is that, if it happens, the first night she sleeps alone, she’ll miss me. Here, with her curled up tight to me, I know this is how I want to fall asleep every night, forever.
I look down at her and watch as she sleepily presses her lips together. Dipping my head, I rest my forehead against the top of her hair. In two days the casts on her leg may come off and there’ll be no reason for her not to go.
If that happens, what can I do to convince her to stay?
I can’t stay here any longer, but there’s no place I’d rather be. This all seems like a dream, like this is what our lives could be like if we let it.
His motivation is clear though: guilt. I don’t want to be his obligation. That doesn’t stop me from enjoying my fix each time he gives it to me. I’ve become utterly addicted to Heath Mackey and when I quit him, I’m going to need to do it cold turkey.
This morning was so perfectly simple. We woke up together—me snuggled up tightly to him. His alarm went off and sleepily, he pulled away.
One of the perfect things about this morning was how he pulled away. He didn’t do it all at once. No, it was a struggle for him to leave the bed we were sleeping in. He had tightened his arms around me and murmured, “I wish we could stay in bed all day,” against the top of my head.
We, he said we. I didn’t imagine it and in that moment, that was exactly what I wanted too. Then, after that perfect we, he started to pull away only to come back to me and hold me even tighter saying, “Five more minutes.” I didn’t argue, how could I? I wanted those five extra minutes of his muscular arms wrapped around me, those five extra minutes of breathing in his musky scent.
How Heath can hold me so tight without being bothered by my casts is confusing. I should be repellent but he only wants to get closer to me. Last night, in the moment before sleep fully claimed me, I swear he kissed the top of my head. I’m too scared to believe it wasn’t a dream.
He kissed me three days ago when my mouth was still wired shut. Why? Why did he do that and why hasn’t he done it again? Now that the wires are gone, the thing I want to taste above all others is his skin.
This morning, pressed tightly up against him, I stared at his neck, wondering if he still tasted like I remembered. Also, wondering what he would do if I turned my head, opened my mouth, and pressed my tongue to his skin.
That’s the addict in me speaking. Everything he’s done since I’ve been in his apartment is confusing. Is he only taking care of me out of guilt or does he truly want me here and in his life?
If he does want me in his life, how long before he’ll throw me away again? It hurt so much the first time. The addict inside me wants to throw myself at him and take whatever scraps he’s willing to give.
I could see myself dining on those scraps like they were a full course meal. But, someday it would end and if his leaving the first time hurt so badly, what would him leaving a second time do to me?
After his five minutes were up, he again struggled to pull away. When he did, he asked me what I wanted for breakfast, telling me no matter what it was he could get it or make it for me.
My mouth was sore and I realized that my first night without wires I had already screwed up by not wearing the mouth guard or doing the flex thing before I fell asleep.
I pushed up to a sitting position using my good arm and lifting my casted one, covering my mouth with my hand. “My guard thing.”
The sleepy fog that had clung to Heath and made him struggle to get out of bed faded away. He bolted upright and climbed off the bed. I watched him move quickly from his bedroom, my eyes lingering on his too scrumptious ass.
It was impossible to focus, Heath made it like that. He had hurried back, carrying my bag and pulling the plastic case from it to hand to me.
“Do your jaw exercises now and wear the guard while I’m in the shower. We’ll eat something soft like oatmeal for breakfast,” he had said before placing a hand to the bed beside me and bending forward to kiss my forehead.
A we and a forehead kiss in the same minute? Heath Mackey was not fighting fair. I had done what he told me to, putting the guard in my mouth and flexing my jaw. It was strange how making such a small movement with one part of my body could tire me so.
By the time he was done with his shower and walking around his room in only a towel, I was lying back down.
He didn’t get dressed in front of me, much to my addict’s disappointment. Once he was deliciously attired for work, I took out my guard, got into my wheelchair and wheeled myself to the bathroom to wash the guard and freshen up.
He had a bowl of apple cinnamon oatmeal ready for me by the time I was done. We ate together like it was something we did every morning and had done every morning for years.
Pops showed up then and headed straight for his favorite seat in Heath’s living room and turned on the morning news. While I ate, they made small talk, Heath letting Pops know I only ate three French fries before passing out last night and that if he already didn’t have plans for lunch, he should take me to Lola’s so I could get some more.
It was surreal watching my grandfather talk to Heath in the casual way he did. His gaze would move between us and soften. I wanted to warn him not to get too attached to Heath, but I couldn’t even do that myself.
Before Heath left he took my bowl and washed it. Then he grabbed his briefcase and leaned down to kiss my forehead just as he had earlier. My eyes had closed as his lips pressed against my skin. With every single molecule of my being, I tried to memorize that kiss, this morning.
“I like that boy.”
My grandfather’s random remark has me blinking at him. Where did that come from?
Instead of asking that, I ask, “Why?”
“I’ve known his family a long time. The way he helps look after his mom, and the way he’s helped look after you says a lot about his character.”
I don’t argue. I can’t argue. Well, I could but I don’t want Pops to think badly of Heath. I’m not sure how much he knows, if anything, about what happened between the two of us.
I’m not sure what to do with Heath, how to think of him. He’s a contradiction. He left me but he’s staying by my side. It’s confusing. Which side of him do I believe, the one that looked past me, or the one that’s watching over me?
I’m getting sucked into him all over again. It’s not his body that’s drawing me in this time; it’s him. My attraction to him has not gone away, no matter how many times I wished it would disappear.
It’s my attraction to his actions that’s evolved. Those first weeks in the hospital I pushed him away. He kept coming, despite the distance and despite needing to be at home with his mom.
He wants me in his life. That is crystal clear. I don’t understand why or what’s changed. As much as I like Kacey, I’m nothing like her. Going from me, to her and then back to me again makes no sense.
Is he only interested in me because she isn’t available?
What is it about Heath Mackey that makes it impossible to get him out of my mind? He’s like an unexorcisable demon. Why can’t my heart beat faster around Trip? He’s seriously sexy and saved my life. He actually waded into the mudslide to get me. He could have died. The least I could do is have a crush on him. Not that I don’t have a crush on him, he is ridiculously attractive. Thing is, no matter how hot he is, my brain thinks Heath is hotter.
I was sure seeing Trip in his police uniform, all “defending the peace” and “you have the right to remain sexy as all hell” would do it for me. There was a reaction; it’s impossible to not appreciate a sexy-ass man, but it wasn’t even close to how my body reacts to Heath.
Even worse, Heath in a suit. What is it about his suits that turn me on so badly? He wasn’t even my type before he ruined me for all other men.
I realize I haven’t replied to Pops so I hurriedly mumble, “He’s a good guy.�
�
That seems to appease Pops. He starts flipping channels and stops on a basketball game.
Pops loves basketball. It does not matter who is playing. He has his favorite teams but he’ll watch any game. I can get into college games; especially March Madness but I don’t make a point of watching.
The Cinderella stories are what get me every time. There’s nothing like a team from a school no one has ever heard of making it to the sweet sixteen or further. I’ll always root for the underdog.
“This good?” Pops asks.
Not sure why he bothered. I’ve watched basketball with him without complaint the other times he stayed with me.
I answer him anyway. “Works for me.”
Before I have a chance to even get into the game, there’s a knock at the door.
“You expecting company?” Pops asks, getting up.
I shake my head and wait while he answers it.
“Hey, I hope it’s alright I stopped by to see you,” Reilly Whitmore greets after Pops let’s her in.
“Oh, hey. Of course. How are you?” I reply surprised.
I know Reilly but it’s not like we’re close. There’s something about her being on TV that makes her seem more like a buddy than she actually is. When her reports come on, we always turn the volume up at the diner.
She has a way of speaking to the camera that feels more personal than a reporter telling the news. It’s like she’s right there with you, sitting on her sofa or on a stool at the counter chatting.
She also has a way of looking put together without looking overdressed or too businessy. It’s hard not to relax in her company.
“I ran into Heath last night and he said it’d be okay if I stopped by. I meant to visit sooner but work has been busy.”
I glance down at the gigantic track pants and huge T-shirt I’m wearing and then with envy at the adorable dress she’s wearing.
First thing I’m doing when I get these casts off is shaving because . . . I don’t even want to know how long my leg hair has gotten under that cast, and then I’m getting dolled up. I’m talking the works. I still haven’t decided whether the works will include my favorite pair of designer jeans or not.
Normally, designer jeans would not count as the works but since I can, in theory, wear skirts and or dresses right now, I crave my jeans.
“It is so nice of you to stop by,” I reply.
Pops nods in agreement before shuffling back over to his seat to resume watching his game.
Her eyes follow him, a wistful smile on her face. That’s when I remember all of her grandparents have passed, and her parents too. I may not have a sibling like she does but I cannot imagine my life without my parents or Gigi and Pops.
My maternal grandparents are still living as well. They’re great too, just not as cool as Gigi and Pops. Reilly has one living relative, Jake. And, for a long time he lived out on an oil rig.
All of this has me looking at her differently as she pulls a table chair out and spins it around to sit closer to me. She is so poised. Outside of that falling down on camera thing, I’ve never seen anything ruffle her feathers. She’s accomplished so much, and all of it almost all by herself.
“I’ve been thinking about you but didn’t want to be a pest while you were in rehab. Now that you’re back in Ferncliff, I figured you’d be well enough for visitors. I hope that’s all right.”
“It’s perfectly all right. Thank you so much for coming. You wouldn’t have been a pest if you came while I was in rehab either. God, there were days I was bored out of my mind there and would have loved extra company.”
She tilts her head and stares at me, seemingly surprised by my words.
“Reilly?” I ask, after she doesn’t say anything for a minute.
She shakes her head. “It’s just that I asked Gina how you were doing because I know you are tight with her and I wanted to know if you wanted visitors. She told me you needed time.”
What the hell?
“She said that?” I ask and Reilly nods.
Funny, I think to myself. It’s interesting how she’d assume I needed time considering the fact that she’s hardly said two words to me since the mudslide. Maybe, she only thought I needed time, which is why both she and Molly weren’t talking to me.
It’s strange though. Throughout our entire friendship, I’ve never reacted to a situation by wanting not to talk to them. In fact, that’s the exact opposite of how I dealt with my problems, until Heath.
That call with Gina after he knocked on my door in the middle of the night had been the first time I hadn’t wanted to talk to her. But, I didn’t feel that way at first. It wasn’t until she put me off with the things she said.
I don’t get it.
I play it off for Reilly though. “There’s a good chance I said something I don’t remember back then considering all the pain killers I was on.”
She returns my smile; only hers is edged with sympathy. I bet she’s never had to question Kacey’s friendship. Geez, I’m almost thirty and I’ve never felt more like I was still in high school.
It’s not like I don’t already have enough on my plate, now I need to figure out if my friends are actually still my friends. I don’t believe in chasing people. That’s the main reason I made not one attempt to throw myself in Heath’s path the moment, or those after, I found out he was engaged.
It’s taken knocks and has had periods of being low but for the most part, I have a healthy self-esteem. I believe in treating people the way you want to be treated and that I deserve the same courtesy. I’m not a masochist and have zero desire to be anyone’s punching bag, physically or mentally.
When I’m with the people in my life, I don’t want to be second-guessing if they care about me.
“How soon do your casts come off?” she asks, thankfully moving the conversation forward and away from anything awkward.
“At my last appointment, my doctor said he thought the cast on my arm would be the last to come off. Hopefully, that means the ones on my ankle and leg might be able to come off at my next appointment.”
“That’s great news,” she replies, smiling.
“I’ll still have physical therapy and might need a cane at first.” I pat the arm of my wheelchair. “I can’t wait to get out of this thing. If my arm wasn’t broken, I probably could have used crutches but my doctor didn’t like the idea. He was nervous I’d fall and reinjure myself.”
Her gaze moves to my chair then back to my face. “It was so scary, hearing about the mudslide and how badly you were hurt.”
It’s a miracle no one died that day. There was a couple who were injured when the mudslide passed by their house and took a tree down. From what I was told, their injuries were minor even though the damage to their house was extensive.
“I had nightmares about it while I was still in the hospital. I’ve never felt so out of control. I was like a sneaker in a dryer. It was horrible. I remember my ankle breaking, and my leg. I think I remember my arm breaking but that could have been my jaw.”
I stop talking when I notice Reilly cringing, then I say, “Hey, you’re on the news. This can’t be the worst thing you’ve ever heard.”
She shakes her head. “Most of the things I cover are fluff. The few times I had to report serious pieces, I had to psych myself up first. It’s weird but with some things I need to mentally separate myself, almost pretend like it isn’t real so I don’t react on camera. You’re my friend, not a news piece. I’m going to react when I hear you talking about how hurt you were.”
I made up my mind right then and there to become better friends with Reilly. I’ve always liked her but now I’m going to make more of an effort to be her friend.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. Other than soreness, especially after PT, the worst of the pain is past me. As for the nightmares, I haven’t had one of those . . .” I mentally count back the days and am not surprised when I realize I haven’t had one since I’ve been in Heath’s bed. To Reilly, I s
ay, “ . . . in a while.”
She glances around, looking at Heath’s place as if she could read my mind.
Then, she leans forward, crossing her wrists over her knees and says, “So you and Heath are together now, huh?”
“What?” I laugh out my question, my palms sweating. “No, do you think because I’m staying here we’re an item?”
She grins, “That’s exactly what I think.”
She’s quiet as I drive back to my apartment. “How was your therapy today?”
Glancing in my direction, Sydney then focuses forward again. “It was fine.”
Fine never means fine.
“Did your therapist push you too hard?” I ask, ready to turn around and give her therapist a piece of my mind.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing to do with therapy. I just have a lot on my mind.”
My fingers itch to reach for her, to lay my hand reassuringly on her leg. “I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”
She looks out her window, which can’t be good. “It’s something I need to figure out on my own.”
Something is bothering her and without her telling me what it is I’m left to drift from one guess to another. She was quiet on the way to therapy too so I ask, “Did you have a good day before therapy?”
“Reilly Whitmore visited me.”
Is that what’s bothering her? “I saw her yesterday and she mentioned she had wanted to see you. I hope it’s okay that I told her she could.”
She looks back in my direction. “It was. I liked getting a chance to hang out with her. I’ve always liked her but we’ve never hung out outside of her coming to Lola’s.”
That all sounds good.
“Reilly’s a great girl. She’s like a little sister to me.”
“I like that. At one point while we spoke, I thought about how she and Jake have lost both their parents and their grandparents. I know my parents don’t live close but I still couldn’t imagine being without them or my grandparents on my mom’s side, and you know how tight I am with Gigi and Pops.”
Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2) Page 12