3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Lennox
I’ve had one day of peace, and somehow, I knew it wouldn’t last. My leg fucking hurts, and the knock on my door puts me in an even more aggravated state. I assume it’s one of my nosy siblings even though they have a fucking key and could let themselves in.
When the knock sounds again, anger spikes in my veins. “I’m coming. Shit.”
As I rip my door open, making sure to stabilize myself against the doorframe, I’m left confused. “Who the fuck are you?”
A drop-dead gorgeous woman, with light brown hair piled up on top of her head and a fresh face, goes from a smile lighting up her features to shooting daggers in seconds. If my dick showed any signs of life since the incident, this would be the moment. The fire in her eyes is wildly attractive.
“I’ll thank you to watch your language,” she says primly, and my hackles immediately rise.
I go to open my mouth when a little head pops out from behind her with the same bright smile I made disappear only moments ago.
“Mommy doesn’t like when people curse around me, but she does it all the time,” the little sprite says matter-of-factly.
“Ivy,” the woman scolds .
“What? It’s true.” The little girl—Ivy—shrugs, and I have to roll my lips inward to keep from laughing. Something I haven’t had to fight in months.
The woman clears her throat, refocusing on me and holding her hand out. “I’m Roxie Moore, your physical therapist.” She says it like I’m supposed to know what she means, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“And you’re on my doorstep with your daughter, I’m assuming, at eight o’clock at night because?”
She falters. I see it on her face even though she quickly pulls her professional demeanor in place again. “Ledger said it was fine to come straight here, get settled, and we would discuss things in more detail tomorrow. I assumed you were expecting me.”
Fucking Ledger. When he said he was getting a physical therapist for my leg rehab, I didn’t realize he meant immediately and apparently as a live-in. Is that even a thing? If it isn’t, I’m not shocked Ledger somehow made it happen.
“I just want to make sure I’m getting this right.” I adjust a little to take the pressure off my foot, gripping the doorframe harder so I don’t fall. “You’re my physical therapist. My brother hired you to not only help with my leg but live here as well? And you’re here to move in tonight?” The more I summarize, the crazier it sounds. There’s no way I’m letting this woman and her kid live in my house. I barely let my siblings in here.
“That would be correct,” she concurs.
I’ll give her credit. She doesn’t try to push, over-explain, or force me into letting them in. She stands on my front porch with her daughter behind her, letting all of this sink in for me .
“Do I get my own room, or do I share with Mommy again?” the tiny sprite says, peeking around her mom again.
“Ivy, so help me God, please let Mr. Hutton and me figure out what’s going on first. Then, we will be grateful for whatever the living arrangements are, okay?” she asks, her voice exasperated.
“Sorry, I was just interested.” Ivy looks down at her shoes, and I want to do everything in my power to take the sad look off her face.
What the hell is that about?
“Umm, come in. Sorry.” I stumble through my words and my movements before a strong grip moves my arm around a petite pair of shoulders as she uses her leverage to help me walk to the couch.
“Sorry if that was an overstep. I didn’t want you to fall. Kind of gives a physical therapist a bad reputation if I let you fall on my first day.” She shrugs with a self-deprecating smile on her face.
She’s funny. And dangerous .
Even I can admit I need help. Besides my fucked-up leg, I’m still so messed up mentally, and hiding away from everyone hasn’t proven to be the solution. But help from this woman? I feel like I’m already tainting her with my shit. I can see the hesitation written all over her face, and I’m not even sure where to begin fixing it.
Do I even want to fix it? I should send her on her way. She’d be better off.
“What happened to your leg?” Ivy’s little voice disrupts my negative thoughts. I forgot about her for a second, which is hard to believe because she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet as she walks about my living room.
“I, uh…” I run my hand over my head, noting how long my hair has gotten since I stopped giving a shit. “I tore the big muscle in my thigh and had to have surgery on it.” I assume, based on her good vocabulary, she’s decently well versed in what her mother does, so I decide giving the basics is the best option.
“Your quad … quadtricpts?” she works through the word.
“Quadriceps,” Roxie corrects her.
“Quadricepts,” Ivy says with concentration on her face.
Well, she’s fucking adorable.
“Close enough,” Roxie mumbles with a smile on her face.
Ivy’s smile is blinding, and while her mother may be dangerous, this little girl may be even more so. It’s best to steel myself against them and keep things strictly professional. If Ledger is forcing this on me, I don’t need any other complications.
I clear my throat. “So, Ledger said you could live here?” I ask again because I’m trying to figure out why he would promise her that. I have the space, but that’s not the problem.
“He did. We moved here from Missouri, so having a place to stay immediately was a must-have, and he said if I didn’t mind staying in your house, there was plenty of room and separation. I assumed you knew about all of that. I can go find a hotel or an inn tonight, and we can figure things out tomorrow.” She reaches for Ivy’s hand and starts to pull her toward the door.
“Wait!”
She pauses as Ivy runs into her back.
“Stay here tonight. It would be a dick move, even for me, to kick you out, and I doubt you’ll find anywhere to stay tonight. We’ll figure out everything else tomorrow.”
Instant regret hits hard when her shoulders slump in relief and her gorgeous face shows such gratitude. I deserve none of it, and this just proves I need to figure out a place for them to go tomorrow. Nothing good can come from this setup, not with how tempting I already find her. Even if I can’t act on any of those temptations, thanks to this bum leg and non-existent libido.
“I promise we’ll stay out of your way. You won’t even know we’re here,” she rushes to say.
“Spare rooms are on the left side. My room is on the right. Roam around and make yourself comfortable,” I grit out, fatigue and pain hitting me hard.
Ledger was right about there being separation, at least. When I built this cabin, I wanted room and the availability for people to stay but not be on top of each other. Although, looking back, I’m not sure who I was expecting to stay with me since all my siblings live here.
Now that we have some form of an agreement, I attempt to lift myself up off the couch. This is the hardest part, I’m finding. The brace on my leg immobilizes my knee all the way up my thigh, so that leg is outstretched at all times. Getting off the couch without tweaking it in some way has proven to be a monumental task. I grunt as I try to hoist myself up, and Roxie rushes over, hooking her arms under my armpits and lifting.
She’s effective and efficient, except the position puts me perfectly leveled with her tits. Good thing I’m able to stand up within moments.
I realize I left my crutches by the door because she helped me to the couch, and now I’m just stuck. I hate asking for help, and while it’s technically her job, she’s not actually on the clock right now.
Jesus, what a fucking mess. I tip my head back, taking a deep breath, trying to figure out how this is my life right now. I had surgery two days ago, and now a stranger and her daughter are apparently living with me .
“Let me help you to your room,” Roxie says quietly but no less in command. Determination etches her features, and I take a peek to see Ivy in the open space by the door trying to do some kind of flip, but she just looks like she’s rolling in different directions.
“No!” I shout, remembering what a shit-show my room is.
I’m uncomfortable with being helpless enough to not be able to walk on my own, and I’m even more uncomfortable letting her see my space right now. The main space is cleaned, for the most part, thanks to Willow, Rina, and Ainsley. When I was dropped off after surgery, the living room and kitchen were suspiciously clean. My room remained untouched, though.
I’m grateful for the support, and I don’t want to sound like a complete dick, but I’ve been holed up in my room for weeks on end, and it’s … not pretty. I’d rather wallow in it than have to admit I’m not making any progress.
“Just hand me my crutches. Please,” I grate out.
“Nonsense. I’m here to help, and I’m happy to do it.”
“No. Just my crutches.” I hold strong. I cannot let this woman see the real me.
She stares at me, and I get the sense she’s trying to see if this is something she needs to fight me on or not. She finally decides to let it go with a nod, and my shoulders slump in relief.
“I’ll grab them, but I’ll be watching you the entire time you make your way to your room.”
I nod, sucking in a breath at the ache I feel as I stand here.
She grabs the crutches quickly, and I get situated before making my way to my side of the cabin .
“Thank you for letting us stay tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her voice can barely be heard over my panting, but the softness in it, the care, makes my heart feel funny. She moves to her hallway, still watching me but without giving me the opportunity to say anything back—not that I would even know what to say.
Twenty-seven steps. That’s how many steps I take to get to my bed before I collapse on it, sweating.
Muffled voices come through my shut door as my eyelids start to droop. I barely have the energy to do one last thing, but it needs to be done.
Me:
Next time you want to hire someone who will also be living with me, give me a heads-up, asshole. I do not appreciate being blindsided. Come over tomorrow and bring breakfast so we can figure this shit out.