Chapter 4 #2
She lifted her head, the soft went out of her face, it screwed up like it did when she was going to say something ugly, but I got there before she could do it.
“Shut up. You’re on my way home from work, and so is the post office, you big dork.”
I watched her struggle to accept my help.
It looked like she was losing.
Then she said, “Whatever.”
“And I can help you package them up.”
“Pushing,” she warned softly.
I grinned huge at her. “Okay, we’ll leave it there. Good chat. Love you.”
I went to Dusk, who was half-heartedly racing some cars down a tiny roller coaster type thing.
I bent and dropped a kiss on his head. “Love you,” I repeated.
He batted my face with his hand, but said, “Of you.”
I went to Dream and Feather, gave my niece a kiss, also on her head, and another, “Love you.”
I looked at Dream and said, “I’m out.”
“See you at Mom and Dad’s on Wednesday.”
Well, that was semi-nice, the semi part was her sounding like she wished she wouldn’t.
“You betcha,” I replied chirpily, grabbed my bag and vamoosed.
I hit the grocery store, and while perusing the ready meals section, I cursed Knox to perdition because he was the kind of guy who leaned toward healthy eating, but he didn’t shy away from horking down boneless wings or two of Willow’s cupcakes in one go.
And I not only didn’t know him well enough to know, while recuperating, would he want to fire up the healthy bit, or the comforting bit? I also wasn’t about to text him to ask.
I got him selections of both, dragged them to my car, then drove to his place.
I nearly had a stroke when I saw no delivery bags on his front stoop.
This was why I grabbed all four grocery bags, stormed his door, and thankfully found it open.
Therefore, I stormed through.
His long body was stretched out on the couch and Monday Night Football was on the TV.
He looked amazing stretched out, watching a game, even with one arm in a sling.
I didn’t let that affect me (visibly, physically was another story).
I also didn’t hesitate.
“What did I say about bending to get the bags?”
“I’m not an invalid.”
I looked pointedly at his shoulder, then the crutch he had leaned on an armchair, then back at him.
He sat up. “I’m supposed to move around, Luna. It’s bad to get stiff. I need to use my muscles. I’m already doing PT exercises.”
He was?
So soon?
That was a surprise.
“And anyway, I was hungry,” he finished.
I refused to feel all warm inside that I’d provided sustenance for him when he was hungry.
Instead, I slammed the door just to put an exclamation point on my annoyance and trooped to his kitchen with my bags.
Though, it may have taken some of the oomph out of my door slam when I offered, “Do you want me to warm something up for you now?”
“No.”
I looked up because his voice didn’t sound like he was lounging. It sounded like he was making his way to me.
And he was.
“I think that’s enough exercise for today, honcho,” I snapped.
“Stop babying me,” he ordered.
“Good you mentioned that,” I said, unpacking food. “See, I’ve made a decision, and this is how it’s gonna go. I’m gonna drop in before work, make sure you’re good, coffee is made, food in your belly. I’m also going to drop in after work to see if all is cool.”
Oh yeah.
You could read from that I still couldn’t stop myself from looking after him.
I returned my attention to him to see him leaning against the counter, watching me.
“Do you need help changing the dressings?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he muttered carefully.
“I’ve seen you naked, Knox.”
His eyes homed in on mine. “I remember, Luna.”
The way he was staring at me gave me a mighty tingle.
Something else to ignore.
“Seeing your thigh and shoulder won’t send me over the deep end.”
“Good to know,” he grunted.
“What are you doing about showers?” I asked.
He held my gaze then turned his to the ceiling, and yet another person that night gave me the impression I was working their last nerve.
“Knox,” I snapped.
He returned to me. “The reason I didn’t have pillows and my comforter is because I can get up the stairs.”
That stroke threatened again.
“You’re going up and down stairs?” It was near-on a shriek.
“Calm down,” he growled.
“I told you no heroics.”
He suddenly appeared baffled, and yeah, in case you’re wondering, that was also a good look on him. It made him look almost cute.
“When?” he asked.
“When I visited you after surgery.”
“I was drugged out then.”
I ground my teeth.
Then I said, “No heroics.”
“I go up them at night, I come down them in the morning. That’s it. For now. And I can take a fuckin’ shower by myself.”
“People fall in the bathroom, hit their head and die, Knox.”
“I’m not gonna fall and die, Luna.”
“You’re also not gonna shower without me or someone else here.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he sighed.
“Promise,” I demanded.
“These wounds are not as bad as you think.”
“Promise!” I shouted.
He lifted up his good hand. “Fuck, okay. Jesus Christ. I won’t shower without someone here. Happy?”
“Yes,” I told the groceries as I grabbed some to put in the fridge.
“You don’t have to drop by all the time,” he told my back.
“I know I don’t have to,” I told the refrigerator. “But I’m going to because I’m your”—I skewered him with a look over my shoulder—“friend.”
“I forgot you could be a pain in the ass,” he muttered.
“I didn’t forget that about you.” I did not mutter.
There was silence while I dealt with the rest of the groceries and tidied the bags.
“Okay, you’re sorted,” I told him.
“We need to talk,” he told me.
“I have to go home to Jacques. He needs his nighttime stroll.”
“Then tomorrow, when you drop by after work.”
Oh boy.
I was going out to dinner with Brady tomorrow after work.
“That’s not a good time,” I hedged.
“Wednesday,” he pressed.
“I’m having dinner at Mom and Dad’s Wednesday.”
“Then Thursday,” he said through gritted teeth.
Time to backtrack.
“What do we have to talk about?”
It was then, he imitated my play.
He looked at me.
He looked at the tidied grocery bags.
He looked at the fridge.
He then looked at the couch with his pillows, comforter, and the strewn opened PopCorners bags, package of Double Stuff Oreos, and again at half-full, the gallon bottle of water mingled with his gun, his book, his remotes and now his tablet.
He then looked to me.
“Do you need me to take your comforter and pillows back upstairs?” I asked.
“Christ, for someone who’s so fuckin’ together, you can be entirely fuckin’ clueless,” he retorted.
As my blood pressure skyrocketed again, I opened my mouth.
I closed it because…no.
I was not going to yell at him (more), fight with him (again), or anything of the sort.
“I need to get back to Jacques.”
“Walk away,” he said under his breath. “You’re really damned good at that.”
Oh my God!
I opened my mouth again.
He stared at me like a dare.
“You’re a pain in the ass too,” I announced.
“That all you got?”
For now, you big jerk, I did not say.
“I’ll repeat, do you want me to take your pillows and comforter back upstairs?” I inquired.
“It’s more comfortable sleeping in my bed. So”—he struggled, he bested it—“yeah.”
I stormed around him, grabbed his stuff and stormed up the stairs. I arranged both pillows and comforter nicely then tromped back downstairs.
“I’m gone,” I announced.
“See you in the morning, baby,” he called, all soft and sweet and purposefully immensely irritating.
I turned and flipped him the bird.
What could I say?
He was exasperating.
He burst out laughing.
GAH!
I slammed out.
But even as I did, I could still hear him laughing.
I loved his laugh.
Damn, he was right.
I was totally clueless.