by Nicky James
“I will. I promise.”
“Don’t promise her stuff like that!” Gray snapped. “Jesus! Mom, I’m not calling every day. I’ll be fine. I am fine.”
Vivian covered her mouth, her eyes watering as she blinked heavily, watching Gray as he accepted a package from Christian. “He’s not fine. My poor baby. He looks so pale.”
I couldn’t argue with her assessment, but I bit back a chuckle when Gray rolled his eyes and glared at his dad.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Anthony said to his wife. “Say your goodbyes. We need to get our things and hit the road. Beck is here now, and you know he won’t let anything happen to Gray.”
She sighed and moved to Gray’s bedside, practically shoving the physiotherapist out of the way. They embraced, and she whispered in his ear, batting the tears from her eyes.
“You’d think he was going off to war,” I remarked.
“She’ll probably bug the hell out of him for a while,” Anthony said, leaning in close and bringing his voice down. “It can’t be helped. I’m sure she’ll settle down, but I’ll apologize in advance if she’s a pest.”
“He’ll be all right. I’ll make sure he gets to his appointments and has what he needs.”
“I know you will, son. Call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Vivian moved away from Gray’s bedside, and Anthony guided her into my arms while he said his own goodbye to his son.
“It’ll be all right, Mom. Gray’s strong and determined. You know that.”
She took my face and kissed my cheek. “Such a good man, Beck. Thank you. You’ve always been so good for him. He needs to find himself a man like you.”
I was certain that was the least of Gray’s concerns at the moment, but I smiled and went along with what Vivian needed to say.
Gray was the most stubborn man when it came to relationships. No one was ever good enough. He counted flaws and dismissed more men than anyone I knew. With his amputation, I had a sick sense that he would only be worse when it came to dating, not better.
Once Vivian and Anthony had left, Gray’s shoulders visibly relaxed. His tension melted away, and his gaze softened as he watched me across the room. The nurse finally departed and the therapist confirmed a handful of future appointments with a local OT before he slipped from the room as well.
“If I could run my ass out of here, I would. I’m so sick of hospitals. I love my parents, but holy hell, I’ll be glad when they’ve gone home again.”
Chuckling, I shuffled up beside him and sat on the bed. Our thighs touched, and I wrapped my arm around him, drawing him close. Gray leaned into the hug and let out an exhausted breath as he dropped his head on my shoulder.
“So, can I steal ya now or do we have to wait for anything else?”
“The doctor has to sign my paperwork, then we’re free. They’re making me leave the building in that fucking wheelchair, but I have crutches and firm instructions on their usage from Christian. I guess I will get a temporary leg next week at my OT appointment. That should be interesting. It’s all pretty surreal still.”
“I bet. Well, once we get the green light, I thought I’d take you back to your house, and I’d run in and pack you a bag of clothes and bathroom stuff. Maria helped me clean up a bit last night, so my place should be mostly manageable.”
Gray snorted. “You cleaned? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
I shoved him off my shoulder with a laugh. “Dick.”
He laughed along with me, but it died away when he turned his gaze to the clock once more. Threading fingers through his hair, he blew out a breath. “This place is fucking me up.”
“How so?”
He shook his head and scanned the room. “It’s nothing. Just feeling contained.”
“Well, it won’t be long now, and we’ll break you out.”
Chapter Five
Grayson
It was another hour before the nurse popped in with my discharge papers and tugged the wheelchair from its place against the wall so I could leave. She was full of smiles, and Beck hopped up with an equally wide grin as he took over for her, swinging the chair to face me and patting the seat.
“Are you ready?”
I stared at the contraption and fought back the burning anger climbing over my skin. “Seriously, why can’t I just use the crutches and leave on my own?”
“Policy. Sorry, Gray,” the nurse explained, smile turning from pleased to apologetic.
It was bad enough leaving without a leg, but having my best friend wheel me out in a wheelchair only announced my new crippled status to the world. I couldn’t avoid the overwhelming sense of loss. Where had my independence gone, and would I ever get it back?
Sneering, I shuffled to the edge of the bed as Beck slung my bag of personals over his shoulder. When he clasped my arm to help me stand, I shook him off.
“I can do it.” The bite in my tone made me cringe, so I blew out a breath and nodded to the crutches by the wall. “Can you carry those for me?”
“Sure.”
While Beck grabbed my crutches, the nurse held the chair stable. I maneuvered myself awkwardly from the bed. As many times as I’d practiced moving about with Christian, nothing came easy anymore. Everything required planning. There would be no more springing to alertness and dashing out the door at a moment’s notice. My entire world had been forced to slow down.
Beck tensed a few times, looking desperate to jump in and help, but he stood his ground and let me take charge of my own transferring. I felt no pride at accomplishing the simple task, only more self-loathing at what my new life entailed.
As Beck wheeled me down the hall, I kept my gaze trained on my lap, ignoring everyone we passed. Mom had knotted my joggers just below my residual limb, and I focused on that reality instead, swallowing bile as it threatened to climb my throat.
Safely in the elevator, out of sight of the hordes of onlookers, I glanced at Beck who watched me intently. “If I need help, I’ll ask. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“But will you? Or will you be all stubborn and wind up hurting yourself because you’re too proud? You know I won’t judge you or think less of you if you need a hand. I love you, man. I’m here for you.”
I wanted to argue, but he was right. “I’ll… try to remember to ask. But I need to learn how to do shit for myself. You’ll have to let me hobble around and get used to this, even if I end up on my face sometimes.”
“Fine, but if you decide to be an idiot and end up on your ass, I can’t promise not to laugh. Don’t think being all legless will get you sympathy. Fuck that shit. You choose to be a stubborn dick, I’ll throw all sympathy out the window.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “I don’t expect any less. If I wanted to be coddled, I’d have gone home with Mom.”
The elevator dinged our arrival to the main floor, and Beck took us out to the parking lot. Once I managed the tricky transfer into his VW Golf—I’d never noticed how low to the ground it was until that moment—we were off.
While Beck drove, I watched the city pass by from the window. I’d been in the hospital for almost a month. April was coming to an end, and spring had officially moved in. The sky was cornflower blue, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. The trees had budded, and a few had sprouted new leaves. There was a nip in the air, and a chilly breeze that blew in off the lake, but otherwise it was a perfect day.
The sun sat high in the sky, reflecting off the white stone buildings and storefront windows as we drove by. The DJ on the radio was giving a quick history of some band that had just played, but his voice faded as the buzzing noise in my head grew louder.
I flashed my gaze to the dash, but the radio station was illuminated instead of the time, so I hit a button to bring it up. Blinking at the digital display, I wondered if Beck had forgotten to change the time during daylight savings or something. The claim of it being eleven thirty made no sense.
Shifting, I found my phone in my pocket
to confirm. It was indeed that late. Almost lunch. I tucked my phone back in my pocket and shook off the odd static climbing over my skin.
“I can’t believe I lost half a day waiting to get out of that damn hospital,” I said, working hard to sound rational and calm. And almost a whole month while stuck inside it. Jesus!
“Not a big deal. It’s not like you have anywhere to be today. Just kick back and relax. We’ll get you settled before you know it.”
That wasn’t the point. I didn’t share about the niggling anxiety that arose every time I noticed the racing time. Besides, I was half-convinced it was strictly a hospital phenomenon and would go away now that I was out.
Ten minutes later, Beck pulled off the road and onto the long driveway which led to my house. I lived on the outskirts of town where the houses were a fair distance apart and shielded from view of each other and the road by a dense covering of trees. All the properties along my street backed onto a stream that led to Dewhurst’s harbor and the lake. It was about as private a property as I could find without moving to the country.
When Beck parked beside the house, just outside a caution tape marker that had been strung around the back half of the property, my mouth fell open. It was my first time seeing the damage the storm had done.
The yard and driveway were littered with fallen branches, shingles, and debris. The evidence of the storm was staggering.
Built at the turn of the last century, the house had always been a little rough around the edges. I’d fallen in love with its rustic character. Despite my lack of renovation skills, I’d jumped when it had gone on the market six years ago at a reasonable price.
The pale yellow brick was pitted and crumbling in many places, the hardwood floors had separated and creaked when you walked on them. The crown molding was cracked, chipped, and missing in places. The staircase to the second floor was narrow, and the banister wobbled, but I loved it.
Ignoring all its flaws, I’d given it a fresh coat of paint in every room and had paid to have the bathrooms modernized and kitchen cabinets re-fronted. It was home. However, I’d ignored the one main problem that the inspection company had brought to my attention when I’d moved in; the horizontal crack in the north facing foundation wall. The price tag to fix it was greater than my savings, so I’d had a company in to add temporary support beams in the sub-basement instead at a much more reasonable rate. Good enough, right?
Wrong.
No one had taken into account the giant oak tree in the backyard or the possibility of its weight being added to the mix.
I stared transfixed at the once formidable tree where it was now draped over the back end of my house. Its trunk splintered down its center, as though something had severed it in anger.
“Lightning?” I asked.
For whatever reason, I’d always assumed it was the high winds that had taken her down.
“Looks like. They didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask.”
The main body of the tree had broken through the outer wall of the house, shattering windows on that side and caving a section of the roof. A large portion of the second floor was exposed to the elements. There was an unhealthy dip along the entire side of the house, and I realized it was caused by the buckled foundation wall. The whole side of the house had a threatening lean that made me cringe.
Peering to where the sub-basement’s sunken window would be, I couldn’t see it. There was debris and a tree in the way. My heart hammered as I realized I’d been stuck underneath this mess. For days. How close had I come to dying?
“Gray? Are you okay?”
Beck’s words came from far away, attempting to pull me back to the here and now. My stomach roiled, and I grabbed for the door handle, flinging it open in a panic.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
My brain surged, going off muscle memory when I fled, not having caught up to the fact that I was missing a limb. In my moment of panic, when I tried to put my foot down, I fell. The ground wasn’t there, and I crashed hard, barely catching myself on an arm and jarring my shoulder against the packed earth. The fall winded me, and I growled against the pain as it ripped through my body mercilessly.
Beck was there in a flash, pulling me up and helping me stand.
“Fuck! Are you all right?” He brushed dirt from my side and studied my face.
Gritting my teeth against the jarring pain and embarrassment, I nodded. My stomach turned, but I forced the nausea away and clung to my best friend for stability.
“This is too much to see. I can’t believe I was stuck under all that and lived.”
Beck threw his arms around me and squeezed me against his chest so hard I couldn’t breathe. I buried my face in his neck and hugged him back, pinching back the tears threatening to spill. Emotional rollercoaster rides were not my thing, and I’d be damned if I let Beck know how much all this reality hurt.
It was a rare occasion having Beck this close. I couldn’t express to him how badly I needed him, especially at a time like this, so I held on and took what he was willing to give.
“You scared the shit out of me, Gray. When I heard what happened… then I saw it in the paper. Fuck. I can’t lose you.”
His arms tightened even more. We wobbled, and I couldn’t compensate for the lost balance and gripped him tighter in a panic. He stabilized us and leaned me against the car before pulling out of my arms.
“We are not both falling over. Are you okay?” he asked, searching my face.
I stared over his shoulder at the house. “Yeah. Just kinda freaked me out seeing this.”
“I bet. How about you get in the car, and I’ll go fill a bag with your things. It’s a good thing your bedroom is on the opposite side, huh?”
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath and scanned the lot. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be fine. Your dad said they marked off the unsafe areas.”
I got back into the car and watched as Beck disappeared inside the front door. Mechanically rubbing my upper thigh, I flashed back to the handful of days I’d been trapped under the house. Darkness that had gone on forever. Time that had held no meaning.
When a cold sweat erupted across the back of my neck, I shoved those thoughts away and checked the time.
Eleven fifty-six.
Blinking and staring at the digital readout, I counted seconds when the number changed. Except, I didn’t get to sixty fast enough before it ticked again. Counting. Tick. Never making sixty. Faster and faster, until my heart raced and my breathing came short.
Where the fuck was Beck?
At just shy of the five-minute mark, with my hand on the door, ready to fly out it again, he emerged from the house carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder. With effort, I pulled my shit together, so when he got in the driver’s seat, my anxiety was hidden, replaced by irritation.
I smacked the display button so it showed the radio station again. If I had to see the numbers of the clock any more, I might lose my fucking mind.
“What took you so long?”
He flinched as he turned the key. “I was five minutes.”
Logically, he was right. Why I felt so distraught over the passing of a simple five minutes made no sense. I bit back a retort and rubbed my thigh as he pulled back onto the road.
Beck’s apartment was in the middle of downtown between a coffee house and a bank. There was parking around back for the people who lived in the second-floor apartments, so they didn’t have to contend for parking spaces along the road.
Beck parked close to the back door to his shop and killed the engine.
“How about we get you upstairs first and I’ll come back for your stuff.”
I mumbled agreement as I popped the car door and shuffled my body around. Beck flew to my side, looking ready to help, then stalled, seeming to think twice.
“Can you grab the crutches?” I asked. “I can manage.”
He unearthed them from the backseat and held them out. With awkward, un-honed skill, I g
ot myself upright and tipped my chin, telling him without words to go ahead of me. He refused and stuck by my side. Although I didn’t voice it, I was grateful. The threat of toppling was real.
The hospital would have preferred I rented a wheelchair until I got my prosthesis, but after I’d explained the impossibility of using one at Beck’s apartment, they’d relented. Although I’d practiced using the crutches a lot with Christian, it was still new.
Beck unlocked the backdoor and held it while I squeezed through, hopping and leaning on the frame once. When I nearly lost my balance, Beck snagged my arm and kept me upright. I was glad he hadn’t listened to my prideful attempts to tell him to back off.
The stairwell was daunting and poorly lit. Narrow. I stared up to the top and groaned on the inside, unsure if my pride would allow me to just sit on my ass and scoot up them one at a time like a child. The last thing I wanted was to tumble to the bottom, breaking the only leg I had left.
At least Beck had cleared the junk he normally stowed there.
One less obstacle.
“Please let me help you,” Beck begged. “At least until you get more used to getting around on your own. I don’t want to have to call your mother and tell her you fell down my stairs on the first day. She’ll kill me.”
Analyzing the narrow stairwell, I relented with a heavy sigh. Fuck pride, he was right. “Yeah, fine.”
“Thank you.”
Beck took one of my crutches so I could use the banister for support. With one of his arms secured around my waist and one of mine slung around his neck, we climbed the stairs one hobbled jump-step after another.
My entire focus was on the ascent. Grunting and hopping, I pulled myself up the best I could until sweat beaded my forehead from the exertion.
Beck turned his face to encourage me when I slowed. “You’ve got this. You’ll be a pro in no time.”
He was so close, his breath ghosted my collar. A shiver coursed up and down my spine, and I closed my eyes, stalling my efforts altogether and wishing my mind would calm. Now wasn’t the time to register our proximity.
