8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Lennox
Roxie is trouble. Ivy is fucking adorable. It’s a wild combination, but I don’t hate it. I’m scared of what it means for me in the long run, but it’s refreshing nonetheless.
Now that I’m sitting on the couch, I’m realizing my keys are sitting on the island in the kitchen. I could have simply handed them to Roxie and made things a hell of a lot easier, but I’m glad I didn’t figure it out sooner. It was more fun this way, and it made Ivy so damn happy. I chuckle to myself, thinking about the mischief in Ivy’s eyes as she crawled through.
It’s a shock to my system. For once, I’m not caught up in my head, dwelling on Tennison’s parting words to me, and it feels freeing—a glimpse of what’s still possible in my life.
“Is spaghetti okay? I figure you can’t go wrong with spaghetti.” Roxie bustles into the living room with a glass of the tea I made, setting it down in front of me on the coffee table Rina built. Her hands ring together, and a hint of nervousness shines through her smile.
“I will literally eat anything; spaghetti sound delicious. Thank you for cooking.” I hope my tone conveys my sincerity because she owes me nothing, especially after our first meeting. I internally cringe remembering my reaction to her showing up here. I’m trying so fucking hard to curb my asshole tendencies, but I know I’m failing more often than not .
My eyes hold hers for a moment, and I swear I see something there, but it’s gone too fast for me to make it out. There’s another flash of something my subconscious is certain is interest, but I know that’s bullshit. No one wants a broken man who can barely walk, who will probably never come out of this black pit of hell.
And there’s the negativity, back just in time. For a second there, I thought I might actually be able to escape it.
“Well, I’m going to get started. Ivy is in her room playing, so she won’t bug you, but if you need anything, just holler.” She spins on her heel and is out of the living room before I have a chance to reply.
Leaning my head back on the couch, I sigh. This whole day has been confusing. I’ve fluctuated between my normal doomsday self and something akin to carefree. And I won’t even think about the fact that cleaning up after breakfast tweaked my leg enough to be annoying. Painful if I’m truly being honest with myself.
Roxie’s overbearing approach to my mobility may have merit, not that I want to tell her that. Lifting my leg up onto the couch, a little of the pressure and ache releases from it.
“How’s the leg feeling?” Roxie asks from behind me, scaring the shit out of me.
I jump, and a spike of pain shoots through my fucking leg. Grunting, I figure it’s as good an answer as any. I don’t want to admit I’ve overdone it, and I definitely don’t want to tell her I fucked it up again.
“That good? Shit. Can I take a look at it after dinner? We can save all the mobility baselines until tomorrow, but I’d like to make sure everything is still looking good. You’re only a couple of days out of surgery, and I’d like to keep a very close eye on it for a couple of weeks. But especially until the sutures heal up. ”
I nod, but I’m dreading this. It’s not only the surgery scar she’ll be seeing, and while I have some scars on my arms, they are much less noticeable than the ones on my legs, and I make a conscious effort to wear long sleeves to hide them. I don’t have the luxury of hiding the scars on my legs with Roxie, though. I don’t want to have to explain any more than I already have about what happened or why I have a gnarly scar on the same leg I had surgery on. Sure, knowing the basics probably won’t shock her, but it doesn’t change how fucking ugly things look.
God, will I ever feel normal again? I don’t even care if happy-go-lucky Lennox ever comes back. I just want to feel like a real human again.
I don’t realize Roxie left, leaving me to my fucked-up thoughts, but I’m glad when I find her gone. Letting her see too much of me, the constant struggle in my mind, isn’t something I want. I need her to see me as a client because, at the end of the day, I can’t bring anything to the table for anyone, and it’s best she learns that now. Hell, I’m delusional to even think she could see me as anything more.
Dinner was fucking phenomenal. It’s not like my siblings don’t make sure I’m fed, but not only was the spaghetti delicious, the company was so low pressure it allowed me to enjoy the food. There’s always so much pressure to put on a face, even though I know my family would never want me to feel that way. There’s an expectation with them, though. The expectation of who I used to be, and the drastic change that’s been this me for the last few months.
Roxie doesn’t have any of those expectations. This is the only version of me she knows, and I don’t need to pretend that I’m working on myself or that I’m getting better. Even if that’s the end goal. It allows me the time to work through without acting like things are fine.
Ivy is also a surprise. She’s strangely endearing for a five-year-old. After demolishing her bowl of spaghetti, she came up for air, covered in sauce. I had to work to hide my laughter because she was the happiest girl in the world, even knowing she was going to have to take a bath afterward. Roxie mentioned that Ivy isn’t the biggest fan of baths and usually fights them hard, so the fact that she was still so happy even knowing she was about to do something she didn’t enjoy made my head start thinking too much.
Is it weird to be getting life lessons from a five-year-old? Probably, but whatever.
I can hear her splashing from here, and it brings a smile to my face. Roxie may be dangerous, but Ivy is a breath of fresh air. I remember Ledger saying they would be good for me, and I can’t help but agree on some level. I’m still not sure about Roxie being all that good—she’s tempting and demanding, both things I don’t want right now. Not that I have a choice.
I don’t hear the water shut off. I don’t hear the giggles as she gets dressed for bed. But I do hear her as her timid little voice tells me good night.
My heart skips a beat at how unsure Ivy looks, and it makes me want to do better. I don’t want her to ever feel like she’s not welcome here. It’s her home now too, and judging by what little I know about their past, stability isn’t something this little girl has had a lot of.
“Good night, Miss Ivy. Thanks for breaking into the window today and saving the day.” I smirk.
The smile she graces me with feels like a cleansing of sorts. Like her innocence is absolving me of my misdeeds little by little.
“Maybe we can play superheroes and bad guys tomorrow,” she muses.
“Ives…” Roxie warns.
“That sounds like fun. I can be the bad guys.” I give her a small smile.
“No. I’m bad guys; you’re superheroes.” Her little brow furrows before she shrugs and skips off down the hallway.
“I just need to read her a story, and then I’ll be out and I can look at your leg, if that’s still okay?” Roxie asks.
“Take your time.”
Realistically, I know she’s checking and double-checking because she’s a professional. And while I understand our living situation complicates things, it frustrates me that she feels apprehensive around me. Even though I’ve given her no reason to act any other way. I’ve been surly, stubborn, and more than a little resistant. But how does one change their outlook and how they act toward the world when inside is just as ugly and painful as the outside?
That’s a question for another time because Roxie walks out of her side of the cabin with a soft smile on her face. I may not know her well, but somehow, I know that smile is hiding a ruthless woman who is not afraid to push me. Who knows how to be a badass and take no shit.
“Alright, let’s check out this leg. Don’t worry about any pain or anything. I’m just checking out your incision and making sure it’s where it should be.” She clasps her hands and waits .
“Ummm, okay?” I’m not sure what response she’s expecting.
“I’m going to need you to take your pants off, or I can help you if you need.”
My eyes widen at the very obvious reason she would need my pants off, but my head didn’t go there. I didn’t think about what looking at my leg entails, and the fact I don’t have boxers on is a huge fucking problem. I only thought about my fucking scars.
“Or not?” She tilts her head at my evident freakout. “Look, I’ve seen it all, and there is nothing to be embarrassed or shy about. Your injury means skin will be showing while I work on you, so … it’s something you’re going to have to accept.” Her tone is gentle, but her words are no-nonsense.
“I, umm…” I clear my throat and can feel my entire face heating. Thank God for the bushy beard hiding most of it. “I didn’t think about that when I got dressed this morning, and I don’t have anything else on.” I try to hint at the fact that, if I take my pants off, she’s getting an eye full of dick, and I’m certainly not prepared for that right now.
“Oh.” She pauses before it clicks. “ Oh! ”
I cringe. “It’s easier to only have one layer to maneuver on my leg.”
“Of course, makes total sense.” There’s a flush working its way up her neck and cheeks. It’s charming as hell. “Okay, what if I grab a towel so you can cover yourself, and then I can quickly check things out and be done.” The pink in her cheeks seems to grow, and I’m glad we’re both uncomfortable as fuck. Makes me feel less alone for once.
She rushes away to her bathroom and returns before I’ve mentally prepared myself for getting up close and personal with my physical therapist. My very attractive, competent, and live-in physical therapist.
Jesus, this is such a terrible idea .
She hands me the towel like it’s a bomb about to go off.
“Can you shimmy your pants down without putting pressure on your leg?” she asks, seemingly snapping out of the awkward haze that was surrounding us.
“Yep,” I grunt, tossing the towel over my lap and using my good leg to push my hips off the couch and over my ass.
“Well, alright then. Let’s take this brace off.” She moves toward me, and my whole body tightens. It’s not that I didn’t notice the way her jeans fit her plump ass, or how the tank top she’s wearing shows a hint of cleavage while hanging loosely around her middle. It’s that I was able to look at her from afar, not having to worry about what my dick was doing. Now? She’s too close, and her subtle citrus scent is far too alluring mixed with the amount of skin I’m privy to this close up. I clench my eyes tight as her hands start to undo my brace.
The hand holding the towel shifts to cover my traitorous dick that doesn’t understand this is not someone interested in me.
It’s right this second that I realize how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, and this is the first hint of interest my appendage has shown since Tennison. Surprise hits me hard, but the feel of her hands on my leg shifts my aroused thoughts, thankfully.
She finally gets the brace off. One hand is strong under my knee, and she pulls my pants lower so she can see my incision.
I’ve actually been tortured, and right this second, with Roxie being so close and yet so oblivious to how much she’s affecting me, feels more torturous than anything Tennison doled out.
“This is looking really nice,” she murmurs as her fingers poke around. “I think the plan for getting baseline tomorrow is perfect, and then I’ll write up a treatment plan that you can have so you’re aware of everything we’ll be doing. It’s going to be super intensive for a couple of weeks, but you should start to feel more mobile within the next week or so.”
I open one eye and see her still poking around my incision, completely bypassing the little pink slivers of my old scars. It’s her face being only half a foot away from my dick that has me tipping my head back and blowing out a steady stream of air.
Think of family dinner. Think of any sibling with their partners. Think of literally anything except how the tickle of her breath on my thigh is driving me absolutely insane.
“Okay. This was perfect. I’m going to spend tonight looking up a few things, and we should be ready to hit the ground running tomorrow.”
“Yep,” my voice is strained.
“Can you get your pants back on, and I can help you with your brace or would you rather head to your room with your crutches? I can put your brace in your room, and you can call it a night.”
I have no fucking clue what the right answer is, but what I do know is I need a hell of a lot of distance from this woman right now. I feel like a fucking teenager again, and the need to take care of my surprise erection is of utmost importance. The buildup of months without any sign of life is hitting me full force, and I feel like I could come if she touches me again.
“I can handle it. Can you go put my brace next to my bed, and I’ll slowly make my way over there?” I don’t care how messy and gross my bedroom is at this point. I need space, I need it now, and this is the fastest way to get it.
“On it.” She makes quick work of putting my brace in my bedroom, and by the time she returns, I have my pants back on, but I’m still holding the towel over my crotch .
“Do you need anything else?” I can’t tell anything from her face. If my room affected her, she doesn’t show it.
“Nope. I’m going to call it an early night,” I tell her gruffly.
“Sounds good. If you need anything, you have my number.” She backs away slowly before running into the corner of the wall. “Let me know,” she calls over her shoulder as she turns and heads down the hallway to her room.
What the fuck just happened?