by Casey, L. A.
“That feels so good.”
Elliot didn’t reply to me, he just continued with his massage, and after several long minutes he rinsed my hair until the water ran clear. He repeated the steps for me two more times when I asked him to. I told myself it was because my head hadn’t been thoroughly scrubbed in weeks, and while that was true . . . it was his touch that I was trying to prolong.
When my hair was conditioned and rinsed, I took over. I took the soaked washcloth that was coated with shower gel and I scrubbed my skin until it came up pink. I bent over to wash down my legs and Elliot cursed. I looked back and found his eyes on the ceiling. After that, I quickly washed the rest of my body. When the water was shut off, I sat back down on the seat while Elliot got me a towel.
I squeezed water from my wet strands, then got to my feet with the aid of the support poles as Elliot held open a large bath towel in front of me. I smiled when he wrapped it, and his arms, around me.
“Thank you.”
He kissed my head. “You’re welcome.”
I hobbled over to the sink with his help and wiped away the steam. My towel fell down a little, and I gasped as I looked at the first true reflection of my new body.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOAH
“What the fuck happened to me?”
I wasn’t asking Elliot, and I think he knew that because he didn’t answer.
“This body is mine but it’s not at the same time,” I continued. “How could I let myself go like this?”
My stomach was destroyed with stretch marks, some light pink and others dark purple. My breasts were the same, and from what I could see of my thighs, they were there too. With a lump in my throat, I covered myself up with my towel and turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see myself any more. Elliot stood before me, dripping wet, with a big frown on his handsome face.
“You’re beautiful, sasanach. Just a different beautiful than what you remember.”
His sweet words were the crack that broke the dam. I burst into tears, and in seconds he had me gathered up in his strong arms and was whispering beautiful words in my ear that I needed to hear. I leaned against him heavily, until my sobs turned to sniffles. I felt like a train wreck.
No matter what Elliot or anyone else said to me, I was living in a body that I didn’t recognise. I had felt conflicted and out of place as I tried to come to terms with my new life, but seeing first-hand how different my body was made me feel even more disconnected to who I was as a person. I was in the body of the 2020 version of myself, I was living her life, married to her man – but I didn’t want it. Any of it. I wanted things to go back to the way they were, but I couldn’t live in denial; I had to accept that this was my new normal even though this new normal hurt my heart.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get ye dressed before ye catch a cold.”
I nodded and secured my towel over my breasts, then with the help of Elliot, I hopped back out into my room. When I sat on the bed, Elliot was quick to lock the door just in case I got any unexpected visitors. He mopped up the water that had dripped from my body on to the floor and audibly scolded himself for not placing a towel down on the floor ahead of time.
“Calm down, Mary Poppins.” I wiped my cheeks. “A bit of water never hurt anyone.”
“It could hurt you if ye slip.”
“Fair point.”
He returned to the bathroom to dry and dress himself, and I used this time to dry myself down. Then I wrapped my towel back around me, stood up and was just about to hop over to the tiny wardrobe that each hospital room was equipped with, to get fresh underwear and a set of pyjamas. When the bathroom door opened, I froze as Elliot glared at me from the doorway. Instantly, I smiled at him.
He looked like an angry papa bear.
“Nu-uh,” he growled as he crossed the room with my boot tucked under his arm. “We aren’t kids any more, ye don’t get away with things by smilin’ at me.”
I clicked my tongue. “You’ve gone and grown up on me . . . old man.”
The corners of his eyes creased in amusement.
“Old man? I’m two weeks older than you.”
“Technically, yes, but mentally I’m still twenty-four and you’re pushing thirty, so like I said . . . old man.”
I squealed when his fingers suddenly pressed into my sides, over and over. He made sure to grab me when I fell, and hauled me up against his hard body.
“Mercy,” I pleaded. “Mercy, Irish.”
He righted me, then nudged me backwards until I sat back down on my bed. Then he got to work putting my boot on and securing the straps.
“Don’t call me Irish.”
“Huh?” I looked at him as he stood up. “Why not?”
“Me friends call me Irish, and you’re not me friend. You’re more.”
My heart clenched at his words.
“Eli then.”
“Nope, ye never called me that either,” he mused. “I kind of miss ye always callin’ me ‘paddy’ and ‘ocean blue’, if I’m bein’ honest.”
I burst into giggles. “You are my paddy with those big ocean blues. Always will be.”
I held my breath when Elliot’s eyes dropped to my mouth. For a moment, I thought he was going to abandon his morals and kiss me. I desperately wanted him to, but I knew what I wanted didn’t matter right now. I had to think of the bigger picture and that picture included Anderson. I had to respect him, if not as my husband then at the very least as a person. Until I figured out who I would walk my path with in life, I had to keep my lips to myself.
Elliot’s thoughts seemed to mirror my own because he licked his lips and, at the last moment, jerked back.
“Pyjamas,” he blurted. “Underwear. Ye need those.”
“I want to brush my hair first.”
He grabbed my hairbrush and didn’t hand it to me, but brushed out my hair instead.
“Ye know,” he murmured. “The half-shaved-head thing on you is sexy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Rubbish.”
He placed a kiss on my now-buzzed scalp and whispered, “Sexy.”
I shuddered as he detangled my shorter locks until the brush ran from root to tip with ease. Then he grabbed the hair dryer my mum had packed for me and proceeded to dry my hair. I felt like a pampered princess. Sooner than I would have liked, my hair was dry. I ran my hand through the soft, thick strands.
“When I leave here, I’ll need to get a new style so the regrowth doesn’t look ridiculous.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Elliot moved to the wardrobe and grabbed a set of black pyjamas and a white pair of knickers.
“Are those granny knickers?” I asked, horrified.
He held them up with a grin on his face, enjoying my obvious distress.
“Give me those.” I scowled as I reached forward and snatched them out of his hand. “I thought you were a gentleman, and here you are, waving my delicates around for all the world to see.”
Thoroughly amused, Elliot moved the chair until it was in front of me, and stared at my knickers without blinking.
“Elliot!”
He laughed when I hid them from his view.
“I love how ye say me name like that.”
“I know,” I grumbled. “You’ve told me once or twice. I sound all prim and proper, blah blah blah.”
He winked. “Come on, ye have to get dressed. A doctor or nurse could come in.”
“You locked the door.”
“They can be opened from the outside for a patient’s safety.”
I made him stand in front of me just in case someone came into the room. Elliot made a show of helping me get my knickers over my injured leg. I slapped his hands, making him laugh as he tried to tug them up my other leg like I was a toddler. I grumbled about how hairy my legs were but a glance from Elliot had me clamping my lips together. By the time I got my underwear on, I felt about ninety years old.
“This should be considered
exercise,” I said as I reached for my pyjamas. “I’m knackered.”
We got my shorts on, and just as I picked up my top, I caught sight of the tag and nearly died.
“A sixteen.” I blanched as I tugged it on over my head. “Elliot, I’m a size sixteen . . . and it’s a snug fit!”
“I know,” he answered. “I heard your ma tell your da what size pyjamas to get ye yesterday, she made a guess by lookin’ at ye.”
He looked completely unbothered and unaware that I was having an internal crisis.
“Elliot!” I stressed. “I’ve always been a size ten, even an eight in some jeans! A sixteen is plus-size!”
He looked down at my body then back up to my eyes. “It’s not that different – I dunno why it’s considered plus-size. It’s a few extra inches, no big deal.”
“Not that different? No big deal?” I repeated, dumbfounded. “I have love handles and back fat. I’ve never had either of those. My thighs barely touched before and now they practically clap with every step I take.”
Elliot put his hand over his face to cover his smile. I didn’t feel like laughing, I felt like crying.
“I’m fat.”
“You’re chubby.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need you to make me feel better by choosing terms that aren’t as harsh. I need you to understand what I’m saying. Being fat isn’t the issue, it’s the fact that I don’t know this body. Nothing feels familiar, nothing feels like what I’ve always known. I’m not comfortable in this skin. I don’t feel like me at all, Elliot.” I felt his arms wrap around me and I was so relieved that they still fucking fit around me. “I know how it must sound. Like I’m having a meltdown over being fat, but being heavy isn’t the problem, it’s being in a body that I don’t know that’s really hard for me to come to terms with. D’you understand?”
“Yeah, Nono. I know what you mean.”
I pressed my face against his chest. “Elliot, I have a FUPA now.”
“Honey,” he laughed as he hugged me tightly to him. “Ye sound like havin’ a tummy is the saddest thing in the world.”
“It’s not. It’s just a shock to suddenly be in a body that has things I’ve never had before. I wouldn’t expect someone who has a body like yours to understand,” I grumbled as I leaned back and looked at him. “With your eight-pack and your pecs, and those lines on your hips . . . d’you still have those?”
“Ye saw in the bathroom that I do.”
“Did I?” I blinked. “I can’t remember. I have amnesia, you know? Show me.”
With a grin, he lifted up his T-shirt and showed me that he did, in fact, still possess everything I’d just mentioned.
“Cover up.” I gulped. “This is a hospital, my heart rate will go up. That’s not a good thing here.”
He laughed and let his shirt fall back into place, but before I could say another word, he crouched down, placed his hands on my hips and gave me a big kiss on the stomach.
“I like your FUPA,” he said, standing up. “I like your bum, your love handles, your back fat and everything about your beautiful new body. I like it all.”
I turned my head away from him as I smiled, and he snorted and turned me back to face him with a simple touch of his fingertips on my cheek.
“Tell me ye like your FUPA too.”
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Think of body positivity.”
“Give me one positive thing about this body!” I demanded. “Go on, give me one!”
“Your tits and arse are bigger.” He grinned. “That’s two.”
“Elliot!”
I swung my hand at him as I laughed, and he caught my arm and tugged me against his chest. All laughter fled when Elliot leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, and he closed his eyes as if savouring the moment.
“I’ve missed this. Doin’ silly things like this with ye.” He squeezed me. “I’ve really missed you, Noah.”
My heart hurt for him, and it struck me that he would never have been the one to break up with me. He had always loved me like a man was supposed to love his woman. He was the man you read about in books or saw in films. He was one of the good ones.
“I hurt you, didn’t I?”
He didn’t answer.
“Was I the one to leave?”
Elliot kissed my forehead. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Oh, love, I’m so sorry.” I lifted my hands to his face. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could take it back. Please, forgive me. Please. I love you, Elliot. I love you so much.”
I made a decision then that changed everything. Up until that moment, I’d been reminding myself of Anderson, of who he was to me, but no matter how many times I told myself that there was a reason I was with him and not Elliot, I couldn’t change how I felt about Elliot. I loved him so deeply that I was hurting myself by stopping myself from being with him.
I hurt for Anderson and I felt horrible for him, because while the 2020 version of myself had chosen him, he didn’t stand a chance with the 2015 woman I still was deep down. My heart was Elliot’s, and if I woke up tomorrow and got my memories back, I would deal with the consequences of my actions then. My accident had taught me that nothing was permanent, and that life was promised to no one. I wanted to live the remainder of my life on my terms.
I wanted Elliot.
Elliot looked into my eyes, and when I slid my arms around the back of his neck and tugged his face down to mine, he didn’t offer me any resistance. I crushed my mouth against his and all thoughts of him rejecting me fled when he groaned into my mouth and plunged his tongue inside. He hands tugged me into a standing position so my body was fully pressed against his. I gasped when his hands moved to my behind, and he palmed my flesh like he’d never get the chance again.
With one arm supporting me, he moved one hand around to my front and slipped it under my top. I gasped against his lips when his large, warm hand cupped my right breast. He made a sound dangerously close to a growl in the back of his throat, and it awakened my body as desire rippled through me. I kissed him harder, bit his lower lip, and gripped the bulge of his cock in his jeans.
“Sasanach,” he snarled against my mouth. “If ye don’t stop, I won’t stop at just tastin’ these lips.”
I gripped his arm, my knees suddenly going weak.
“Yes,” I panted. “Yes, please. I want you so much.”
“How much?” he teased, licking my lower lip. “Tell me how much ye want me, gorgeous.”
“I want you more than my next breath,” I groaned as his thumb circled my pebbled nipple. “I want to feel your hands all over me while you suck on my cli—”
The handle of the door jiggled, and Elliot sprung away from me like I was scalding-hot coal. I lost my balance and fell back on to the bed.
“Noah?” a voice called. “I’m just checking that everything went okay with your shower. Are you in any pain?”
The nurse. With my eyes on Elliot I breathlessly shouted, “I’m fine, just getting dressed.”
“Okay. I’ll stop back again later with your medication.”
Elliot had his hands on his hips, his eyes on me as he breathed heavily.
“Are you mad at me?”
He shook his head. “I want to touch ye, to kiss ye . . .”
“But you wanna make sure I’m in the right headspace because of Anderson?”
“Because of him, and other things.”
I swallowed. “Sit. Talk to me.”
He sighed, then helped me into bed and made quick work of covering me with my blanket. After that, he sat on the chair next to my bed, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
“What d’ye want to know about first?”
“Us,” I answered. “Tell me what happened between us.”
He exhaled a deep breath and started talking.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ELLIOT
Twenty-five years old . . .
“Irish, are you crying?”
I cut AJ a glare as he fell on to the sofa next to me with a wry grin on his face.
“Don’t start,” I warned. “I’m wound up tighter than a slag in a confessional.”
AJ laughed. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer.
“Let me guess,” he said, stroking his imaginary goatee. “Your parents’ divorce is eating at you again?”
I glanced at him. “How’d ye know?”
“Because you haven’t been yourself since they told you and Bailey about it. I’m more than a pretty face – I tend to see what’s right in front of me.”
I sighed. “The whole thing has fucked with me head big-time. I want me ma and da to be happy, I do . . . but I never thought that them bein’ apart would be their solution to findin’ that happiness. I can’t imagine either of them bein’ with other people. I knew they were havin’ problems but divorce? It’s caught me off guard. I’m kind of bitter about it.”
I was more than “kind of” bitter, I was a whole fucking lot bitter. For as long as I could remember, I had idolised my parents’ relationship, their marriage, their love . . . I’d even told Noah on the day I loved her for the first time that I wanted us to have a love like my parents did. A love that had since fallen apart and ended.
My parents were together for ten years before they became man and wife. When they told me that they were getting a divorce, I asked my father when he and my mother’s problems began – and he laughed and said their wedding day. I knew he’d said it as a joke, but it stuck with me and had been on my mind for the past six weeks.
I couldn’t shake it off.
For as long as I could remember, my parents had been in love. They were a team, they tackled everything in life as partners. They never made decisions without the other’s input, they were a unit and I loved that about them. I loved that they had so much trust, love and respect for one another. Learning that their love had come to an end made me question everything I thought I knew about them. My dad saying that their problems had started the day of their marriage had hit me like a brick. It meant my perception of their marriage, of their love, was completely and utterly wrong.