by Marni Mann
“I’m happy it made you smile.”
I hadn’t realized that was what I’d been doing, but I felt it stay, even after I finished eating.
She opened the lid, holding the box in my direction. “Another?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m good.”
As she took the last bite, she came over to the bed, adjusting my pillow, changing the placement of my neck. Even though my headache hadn’t returned, I still wasn’t able to get comfortable, and rolling around, testing different spots, wasn’t an option.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“Better.”
She assessed the height of the top of the bed along with the bottom, lifting one and lowering the other before she sat back down.
By the time she crossed her legs, an idea had come to me, one I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already thought of.
“Whitney, I have a proposition for you.”
She had dug into another cookie and was mid-chew when she replied, “Oh yeah?”
“The social worker came in this morning to talk about aftercare. There’s no way I can go to a rehab facility. This place is hell, and another hospital setting would make me lose my fucking mind.” I paused, realizing how that could come across. “Don’t take that personally.”
She grinned. “Believe me, I’m not.”
“I need to be home, in my own bed, with my own things, and that means private care.” I paused, reading her eyes, like she was a client and I was negotiating my services. “I want to hire you to be my nurse.”
“Me?” Several crumbs came flying out of her mouth.
“I’m sure your job here comes with incredible benefits, but so does the one I’m offering. Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll triple it. I’ll cover your insurance and any other perks they’re providing.”
She didn’t move as she listened, half of the cookie still in her hand.
“I know I need twenty-four/seven care, and I don’t expect that from you. You would have set days and hours, and I’d find coverage for the time you’re not there.” As the truth crept in like a fog over my tongue, I gripped the blanket with both hands, taking in the only bit of hope I had since the ambulance had brought me in. “I know my life is going to look different, but if there’s any chance of it returning, even the smallest percentage”—I shook my head as the pain moved into my throat—“you’re the only person who will bring it back.”
She put the cookie away and carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “Caleb, I’m honored. And honestly, a little taken off guard. I don’t know exactly what to say.” She was wringing her hands together, glancing around the room. “You know, I’m constantly shocked by everything that happens out there”—she used her head to point toward the window—“but in this hospital, I have a pretty good handle on things, except for tonight. You’ve officially surprised me.”
The brown returned to me, and I saw tiredness along with something else I couldn’t pinpoint, like a war was raging inside.
“I know what I’m asking you to give up and that this isn’t an easy decision.”
She looked away again, studying the room like I would my office. “This is the only job I’ve had since nursing school. Six years in the same department.” When she took a breath, I saw another emotion move across her face, and I still wasn’t sure what it was. “I’ve thought about leaving a million times and never had the courage.” Our eyes locked. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess I just find you easy to talk to.”
“No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Listening wasn’t my best trait—that had especially been true before my injury. My job, my lifestyle—they required me to lead and do the talking. But since arriving here, I was now the one taking it all in.
Changes were happening faster than the rain pouring outside.
“Tomorrow is my last night here,” I told her. “I wish I could give you more time to think about it.”
She stood, the carton of desserts resting on her hand. “I’ll give you an answer very soon.”
I nodded, the room turning cold as she took several steps toward the door.
She stopped halfway and glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you, Caleb.”
I wondered if she was just being polite or if she’d said it out of habit or if the reason matched the emotion I hadn’t been able to identify. “For what?”
She sighed. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
The swishing of her scrubs was the last sound I heard before she was gone.
I didn’t pick up my tablet, nor did I turn on the TV. I shut my eyes instead, trying to picture what the next few months would look like, staring at my light-gray walls, wheeling across my hardwood floor. My condo becoming a jail, the world outside an incessant tease.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when my eyes opened, the sun was just starting to come through the blinds, the smell of coffee rich in the air.
This was the longest rest I’d gotten since being admitted.
Slightly disoriented, I rubbed my eyes, gently stretching my arms, and that was when I noticed the note. My name was written across the folded piece of paper, which sat next to the box I’d watched Whitney take with her. When I peered inside, there were two Oreo-flavored cookies on the bottom.
As I read her neat penmanship, a breeze came in through the open window, causing my smile to grow even larger.
We have a deal.
—W
P.S. For saving me.
Six
Whitney walked over to my bed, holding a large vase of flowers that she set on my nightstand. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought these would brighten up your room a little.” She fingered several of the petals, smiling as she stared at them.
“You’re saying it’s dark in here?”
The brown finally connected with mine as she laughed. “I’m saying, it’s the most beautiful home I’ve ever been in and extremely masculine.”
My whole condo was decorated in gray and black, so the pink and blue buds certainly stood out.
“Now that you’re all settled in, what can I get you?”
Alfred, my driver, had taken us home from the hospital a little over an hour ago. A commute that wasn’t long in distance but felt like it had taken hours. Every bump, stop, and turn was excruciating. The sight of my high-rise was a small relief, the kitchen overflowing with bouquets the moment we had come in.
“Nothing,” I answered. “Unless you can make this pain go away.”
She gently rubbed the top of my arm. “I wish more than anything that I could do that.” She reached into the pocket of her scrubs, where she took out a pile of cards. “Before I forget, these were attached to the arrangements. I thought you’d like to see who’d sent them and the kind words they had to say. Maybe it’ll get your mind off things for a little bit.”
My legs were on fire, electricity shooting up to my hips and all the way down to my knees, my lower back screaming with stiffness. The medicine barely took the edge off. I was trying to find a way to breathe through it without shouting, Fuck, after every exhale.
That was the only thing I could concentrate on at this moment.
I pointed to a spot next to the vase. “Leave them there.”
She did as I’d asked and said, “Your assistant texted me and said she’ll be by in about an hour. How about something to eat beforehand? I can heat up some soup and—”
“I’m not hungry.” I pushed myself up a few inches, and one of the surrounding pillows fell off the bed.
Whitney grabbed it and began wedging it against my torso, mirroring the placement with a different pillow on my other side, all while keeping my movement to a minimum.
This was the first time I’d seen her hair down, and as she hovered over me, one of her long curls brushed my face. Her scent was subtle, but as she got closer, the coconut strengthened, and my eyes closed as I took in the sweet aroma.
“That perfume smells incredible on you.”
“Your weekend lotion?”
She laughed as she came around to my side, sitting in the leather high-back I’d had my housekeeper place in here for Whitney. “We weren’t allowed to wear anything scented at the hospital, so Emily—my best friend-slash-roommate—always joked that unscented was for weekdays and scented was for the weekends. Although it didn’t really make much sense since I often worked the weekends.”
“That’s a shame. I would have preferred your coconut lotion to the antibacterial gel I only ever smelled there.” Her cheeks flushed a little, and I continued, “You’re free to wear your weekend scent here.” I took a quick glance down her body, knowing she was watching me, so I didn’t take my time. “You also don’t have to wear scrubs.”
“Oh, but I want to.” She pulled at the looseness of her pants. “Once you go scrubs, you never go back. They’re like yoga pants, the most comfortable things invented.”
At least yoga pants were tight, showing the sexiest curves and that beautiful dip between a woman’s legs. Scrubs left much to be desired.
She slid to the edge of her seat. “Your fridge is packed, and much of it is filled with already-prepared meals that only have to be heated. Your housekeeper told me your family had it all sent over this morning.” She was chewing the corner of her lip when she added, “What’s going to happen when the deliveries stop?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“IVs, medications, wound care—I can do that in my sleep. But cooking terrifies me.”
I chuckled at the embarrassment that was spreading across her face, a look I hadn’t seen on her before. “Whitney, you don’t know your way around a kitchen?”
She shook her head. “Oatmeal and macaroni and cheese—that’s about the extent of my knowledge.”
I sighed, my head sinking deeper into the pillow, my eyes shutting as I remembered the meal I’d cooked to perfection a few nights before the bombing—lamb shank with Parmesan risotto and roasted vegetables. “It’s one of my passions.”
“Yeah? Then, that’s going to become a goal.”
I opened my eyes as she was grabbing a small notepad and pen from the same place that had housed the cards. When she finished writing, she turned it toward me.
“Cook a meal for my family,” I read out loud. I recalled the conversation we’d had in the hospital, how a milestone should be reached every night before I went to sleep. “We’re really going to have daily goals?”
“That’s how we’re going to get through this, Caleb, and we’re going to do it together.”
I looked down at my legs, an impressive ache constantly present; even the slightest twitch would shoot an intolerable pain through me. “That’s hours of standing when I’ve barely even walked to the bathroom.” And that had been with the help of a walker, my hands gripping it like I was ninety fucking years old. “That’s one hell of an aggressive goal.”
“You’ll get there, I promise.” She went over to the blinds, opening them as far as they would go, the room instantly lighting up, the sun now shining over my chest. When she returned, she stayed by the foot of the bed. “Your schedule today is more packed than I’d like it to be. You know your assistant is coming over, and then your mom texted and said she’s bringing lunch. Your physical therapist will be by this afternoon. Two of your employees are coming in the early evening, followed by Smith, who’s bringing dinner.”
My clients needed me. My colleagues were covering as much as they could in my absence, but ultimately, I was the one who had to make the decisions while my employees implemented my wishes. My head just wasn’t in the right place to tackle that load of responsibility.
“What else do you have in there?” I said, pointing to the pocket of her scrubs. “An extra dirty martini on the rocks perhaps? I could use one of those right about now.”
There wasn’t pity staring back at me; there was understanding. A deep brown blanket that settled over the bed, pulling all the way up to my neck.
“Can I cancel everyone but Mom and PT?” Her knee rested on the mattress, hands gripping her narrow waist. “Let me decide what’s best for you. Please, Caleb.”
“Whitney, that’s why you’re here.”
She took out her phone and began typing. “Done.” Her smile was a little more devilish than I had seen. “I don’t want to be the meanie, but this is your first day home, and draining all your energy isn’t going to help you heal.”
“You can cancel my mother if you’d like.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s where I draw the line. In my line of work, moms can be scary.”
“And you’re saying mine is?”
She put her hands in the air, like I was aiming a gun at her. “I plead the Fifth.”
I laughed, the feeling almost foreign since it had been so long.
My mother was the glue that held our company together—smarter than anyone I knew and ruthless when she needed to be.
“Where do you think I get it from?”
“I wouldn’t describe you that way at all.”
“You haven’t seen me at the office.”
She took out her notebook again, flipping it around when she was done writing.
“Work enough hours that your scary side comes through,” I read, glancing up at her. “Sounds like another unattainable goal.”
“Nothing is unattainable—you’re going to learn that very soon.” She gathered her dark hair and hung it over her shoulder, where the ends were flirting with her tit.
Fuck me.
“You’re also going to learn, I have a scary side too,” she said. “And you’re going to see it if you keep telling me you’re not hungry. Three meals a day and snacks in between—no exception. I need you as strong as possible to fight this. So, what are you in the mood for?”
I was in too much pain to be hungry. “How about a milkshake?”
“Google can help me accomplish that, hopefully.” She walked toward the door, turning toward me, beaming, before she reached it. “But I just have to say, dessert for breakfast is a style I fully support.”
Once she left, I found my cell on the nightstand, imagining the texts my colleagues and assistant had sent when Whitney canceled on them. There were so many; I didn’t have it in me to go through each one, but a message from Smith caught my attention.
Smith: What’s up? No dinner? Everything all right?
Me: All good, man. Whitney just wants me to take it easy today.
Smith: Can I swing by tomorrow?
Me: You’ll have to clear it with the boss first, lol.
Smith: Damn.
Smith: If she gives a good sponge bath, let her know I’m single.
Me: Not a fucking chance.
Smith: Ahhh, the truth finally comes out. I had a feeling anyway. Joe told me he met her when he came by the hospital last night, said she’s sexy as hell.
Me: She’s a hell of a lot more than that.
“Oreo or strawberry cheesecake?” Whitney asked from the doorway.
I looked up from my phone, feeling the heat of her eyes as she held a pint of each flavor in her hands. “You know the answer to that.”
She grinned. “I brought some cookies from that delicious bakery. Do you want one to go with it?”
“I don’t think I can turn down that offer.”
As she walked out, the long shirt hid her ass, but hints of her legs were teasing me. I watched until she disappeared and then glanced back at my phone.
Smith: I’ll reach out to the boss and ask about tomorrow. Be a good patient today … unless you’re hoping for a punishment.
Me: You know me too fucking well.
Seven
“Are you ready to take a shower?” Whitney asked as she walked into my room the next morning. Before I even answered, she was already fetching
the wheelchair and rolling it next to the bed. “Since you were too tired to do one yesterday afternoon, I thought we should do it first thing today.”
I wanted her soapy hands on my body again, but as I stared at the blue vinyl seat—a contraption that made every bone ache—I feared this would be my future, and my anger boiled as loudly as my nerves. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Remember how you felt after I bathed you in the hospital? This will feel even better.”
Now that I was back in my own bed, I’d thought sleep would make me feel that way last night. Not even a top-of-the-line mattress could get me comfortable, and I hadn’t shut my eyes for more than a few hours.
“You don’t even have to get out of the wheelchair,” she said. “Your shower door is wide enough for us to fit right through.” Her hand rubbed my shoulder, using it to drive home her point. “I know sitting is your least favorite position. I promise it’ll be quick.”
I sighed.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She smiled and lifted the comforter off me. “When you’re ready, turn your body toward me and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, aiming for the ground, like PT has trained you.”
I knew the directions by heart. The same ones had been repeated to me since the day after my surgery. There was just nothing easy about those movements. And the physical therapists I’d worked with so far were the same size as me. Whitney was more like half.
“I’m over two hundred pounds.” Something was clenching my chest, and after each beat, the sensation bit and stung. “What if I fall?”
She sat on the mattress, close to my hip but not touching it. “You’re not going to fall on my watch.” Her hand went back to my shoulder. “You hired me for a reason. I know what I’m doing; you just have to trust me, and we’ll get through this together.” Her fingers slid to mine. “Now, let’s do this.”
After several seconds, I nodded.
That was when she stood and said, “I want you to go slow and think about each inch you take, nothing sudden.”
