18. Maureen
Chapter eighteen
Maureen
L eo and Miranda left Monday morning to head back to Seattle. Leo needed to get home for work, and Miranda wanted to spend some time with friends during her winter break. They’d both be back in Coleman Creek by Christmas Eve, along with James’s parents. As they gathered their things and drove off in Leo’s gigantic work truck, they appeared to be in some sort of silent standoff. I didn’t know what was going on with my youngest sister, but since she was an adult, I decided not to worry about it.
With Marley and James busy molding young minds at Coleman Creek High, I took on Will duty. He’d likely sleep most of the day. Not as much as yesterday, but a lot. It had been scary how much he’d slept and how out of it he’d been when he was awake, but James said he’d seemed more like himself when they spoke during the night.
My plan for today was to do some editing. I hoped to post a new Francesca video this week, just to get back in the habit of it.
Yesterday, I’d gotten an unexpected opportunity when Katy let me come over and film her. Marley had taken over as Will’s nurse after James went out on his call. The building that caught fire was next door to The Landslide. Out of caution, the restaurant closed for the day, so the manager sent Katy home. Since her parents had taken her kids to Spokane to go holiday shopping, she’d ended up with a rare free afternoon.
It surprised me she wanted to spend that precious time filming with me, but she’d explained, “We’re never going to get another chance like this, and I want to do it before I lose my nerve.”
We’d talked options, and eventually focused on Katy telling my camera about her approach to getting dressed for days spent with tiny humans and rowdy customers. A lot of her thought process revolved around ease of movement, and absolutely nothing could need ironing or, heaven forbid, dry-cleaning. I filmed her closet and did some styling with her, using her own clothing and preferences to put together outfits she hadn’t thought of.
She’d also spoken about her husband leaving, starting over, and how some days were better than others. This led to an interesting monologue about how her divorce had affected her style, which I knew would lend some gravitas to the piece.
If she let me use it.
I hoped to plug the clips into my editing software and get a rough cut done today. I wanted to send it over to Katy and make sure she was okay with me including the more serious bits. If she wasn’t comfortable, I’d cut them. It would still be a fun piece without the heavy stuff.
By eleven o’clock, I’d finished my first full edit. I’d also bought Christmas gifts for Bren, Chase, and my sisters online, plus eaten two pieces of leftover cake for breakfast. I couldn’t help but think how different my Monday mornings had been when I’d worked at Kolya’s.
Close to noon, a groan came from the third bedroom. Opening the door, I found Will hunched over the bedframe, one foot planted on the floor, the other still straight along the edge of the mattress. He’d used one arm to prop himself into a seated position.
I kneeled next to him, and he immediately put a hand on my shoulder to brace his frame, emitting a pained grunt.
“Sorry, Will. I didn’t realize you were up. Can I get you something? You probably shouldn’t be trying to stand without help yet.”
His face pinched as he choked out, “I need—” He tried to swing his bruised leg over as though he meant to roll out of the bed. A bead of sweat dripped down his neck, and he pressed a hand to his stomach.
I understood. “Let me help you walk to the bathroom.”
He nodded gratefully, and I assisted him in rising to a standing position and hobbling to the bathroom. Leaning on the counter and using the towel bars for support, he was able to handle the rest of the process himself, so I waited in the hallway to give him privacy. Afterward, I helped him back to bed.
“Thank you,” he said, leaning back on his gold velvet pillows.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I just got run over by a dump truck while Metallica mixed a new album inside my skull. But that’s an improvement from yesterday. I think the worst is over.”
“Good.” I sat down next to him on the bed. The room was small, with only a bed, nightstand, and dresser. There was a folding chair in the corner James had brought in last night, but I preferred being closer to Will. I needed to keep reassuring myself he was okay. “The doctors said the timeline on your recovery would be unpredictable. That the main thing is you make progress every day.”
“I’m dizzy, but my mind is much clearer. And my words.” He flexed his fingers on top of the bedspread, taking a measured breath before speaking. “We’ll be able to talk, really talk, soon.” He stretched out a hand and touched my hip like he’d done last night. That small touch had my synapses firing.
I popped up from the mattress.
“There will be time for talking,” I said, clapping my hands together at my waist. “But for now, can I bring you something to eat?”
“Actually—” He crooked his elbow and tilted his head toward his armpit, sniffing. “I’m a little self-conscious about how ripe I am. Do you think you can help me use the shower?”
Based on my reaction to the tip of his finger on my skin, helping him shower seemed like dangerous territory. Then again, he smelled objectively foul, a combination of hospital, stale sweat, and the flowery detergent Marley used on the bedsheets.
I laughed.
“What?” Will asked, smiling softly. “My funkiness amuses you?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s more the fact I’m sitting here smelling you. I’m probably loopy from the past few days—” Righting myself, I met his gaze. “Like, how did we get here? I mean, I’ve only been around you, what, maybe five days in my entire life. But somehow…somehow, we’re—” I waved my hand indiscriminately, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, “We’re us .”
He sat up straighter, wincing with the effort. “Maureen, let’s be real. Even if it’s only five—and I actually think it’s more like seven, depending on how you’re counting—” He grinned wryly. “However many it is, they’ve been some pretty memorable days, right?” He closed his eyes and opened them slowly before continuing in a serious tone, “And ever since I met you, even when you haven’t been there, you’ve always kind of been there , you know?”
As he kept his gaze locked on mine, I dipped my chin in acknowledgment.
During the four years we didn’t communicate, I’d still thought about him. Inadvertent, unwanted thoughts sprang up randomly, from nowhere, to remind me how deep the pain had cut, how something so beautiful had ended so cruelly. The depth of my instant connection to him had been the unmet benchmark of every man I met after. And then this past year, knowing he’d be part of my life again, my mind could not settle on one way to feel. I only knew no one had ever gotten under my skin like Will.
We’d been in it. He and I. Since the minute we’d locked eyes at the concert.
“What did you have in mind for your shower?” I asked, changing the subject. Fear and arousal thrummed at the prospect of assisting with the intimate task.
He cleared his throat, eyeing the doorway as though contemplating the distance. “I was okay before, using the bathroom, so I’m pretty sure I can do most of it myself as long as I take it slow.”
“I wish the hall bathroom had a tub. It might be easier. Would you rather use the one in Marley and James’s room?”
He thought for a moment. “No. I think I can do it quick. But can you stay close, just in case?”
“Of course.”
The air in the bedroom suddenly seemed way too warm. I needed to approach this clinically, like any good nurse would. That would stop me from thinking about how we were alone together in this house. Stop me from admitting how attractive I still found him. Stop me from picturing him naked in the shower, with water running over that strong, sinewy body—
Nope. Nada. Not gonna go there. Totally professional and detached Nurse Maureen, reporting for duty.
“Can you help me get my clothes off? I’d shower in my boxers, but I really need to, uh…”
Totally. Fucking. Professional .
I could do this. Cold and clinical. I raised an eyebrow. “Wash your ass? Scrub your balls? I get it. I’m not a pearl-clutcher, Will.”
He chuckled even as his cheeks flushed. “God forbid I forget what a complete and total boss you are. Alright, if we get most of my clothes off here, and you start the shower for me, I can kick off my underwear in the bathroom and get in. If I lean against the tiles, I bet I’ll be okay.”
I hesitated. “Will, I’m not sure about this. That all sounds very…slippery. Maybe we should wait for James. Or I could give you a sponge bath in bed. That’s a thing, right?”
He grimaced. “You’re not giving me a sponge bath, Maureen. I can do this. I’ve been sick before, so I’m pretty good at gauging my abilities. If it really bugs you, we can wait, but I’m not nauseous like yesterday or having vertigo. Just mildly dizzy and weak. Besides, you’ll be there if there’s an emergency, right?”
“And you promise to call out if you need help? You won’t be stubborn about it?”
“I promise.”
“I’m going to put a folding chair in the shower so you can at least sit.”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
I took the chair into the bathroom and started the water. At first, I worried the wobbly plastic would slide all over the stall, but the shower bottom had a sandy, grippy finish that kept it in place. I put a few towels on the toilet and some washcloths near the chair. I found the bottles of soap and shampoo and unsnapped the plastic lids. Not knowing if Will would be able to put on fresh boxers or wrap a towel around himself after washing, I grabbed my robe from the back of the door, placing it on the counter so he’d have some post-shower options.
When I got back to the bedroom, Will had managed to remove the loose sweatpants he’d been wearing, as well as push the bedspread and sheets to the bottom of the bed. He was struggling to pull his T-shirt off over his head.
“Here, let me help you with that.” I kneeled on the mattress to grasp the bottom of his shirt, being careful not to jostle him, restraining myself from taking a more careful inventory of the very prominent dick print evident in his black boxer briefs.
Totally. Fucking. Professional.
I lifted the shirt over his head and tossed it on top of the dresser. He slumped back against the pillows and closed his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” I asked, swallowing hard as his heavy breaths highlighted the slight definition of his abs. I couldn’t help but notice the smattering of coal-dark hair across his pecs, trailing down his stomach and disappearing into his waistband.
“Eyes up here,” he teased. I looked up quickly, caught. My face heated as he grinned.
But I wasn’t about to apologize. I’d been low-key imagining what he looked like without his clothes on for five years. I could admit it. “What? Your body is…nice. I’m only human, Will.”
At the huskiness in my voice, he moved a hand over his groin, hiding the evidence of his thickening cock. “Christ, Maureen. Don’t look at me like that. Not when my head is spinning, and I can’t do anything about it.”
“Pffff. You wish.”
He laughed.
Sitting on the bed next to him, I guided his arm over my shoulder. “Now, let’s get you in the shower before all the hot water is gone.”
I helped him walk down the hall and into the bathroom, his mostly naked body pressed firmly against me. The steam from the shower had already fogged the mirror and turned the small space into a sauna.
Will slipped out from under me and leaned against the vanity with both hands. “I’ve got it from here. Thank you.”
I nodded, still wary, but I stepped back and let him shut the door. “Don’t lock it,” I said. “Just in case.”
“Alright.” Ten seconds later, I heard the clack of the curtain rings sliding along the shower rod and a thumping sound I assumed to be Will sinking into the chair.
While he showered, I quickly changed the sheets on his bed, figuring he’d appreciate fresh ones. I was slipping the elastic of the last corner under the mattress when I heard a muffled cry.
“ Maureen .”
My chest tightened, and I dashed into the hallway.
“Will!” I shouted through the closed door of the bathroom. I shifted on my heels, waiting for his reply. When none came, I knocked, still with no answer. I grasped the handle. “I’m coming in.”
The steam hit like a force field, the thick air stifling. Through the cloudy white of the snowman shower curtain, I could make out the shape of him, thankfully still seated in the chair. Had he fainted?
“Maureen,” his voice croaked. Thank god! “I’m sorry. I just ran out of energy.” He labored to get the words out. “I thought I was managing, but then, it was like my battery died. I worried I was going to fall out of the chair.”
“It’s okay. We’ll get you sorted.” Damn, it was hot. The foggy mirror dripped with condensation. I felt the ends of my ponytail plastered to the back of my neck as I hurried to shuck off the denim button-down I wore over my tank top. “What can I do, Will? How can I help?”
“I just need to… Can you help me…finish?”
“Finish.” I said the word with no inflection, but my mind immediately went somewhere inappropriate. My jaw ticked. Maybe it was because I hadn’t slept properly in days, but seriously—a smoking-hot man, naked in the shower, was asking me to help him “finish.”
Maureen, what is wrong with you? Will is in distress here . I blinked away my naughty thoughts, but the momentary mental lapse into levity allowed me to gain my equilibrium despite the temperature of the room. And my blood.
Will continued, unaware. “I was able to wash my body, but I ran out of steam washing my hair. It’s still full of shampoo. But every time I try to rinse it, this wave of dizziness hits, and I just can’t. That movement of raising my arms above my head… It’s gonna make me throw up.”
“Are you okay if I open the shower curtain? I don’t think I can help you without actually, you know, seeing you.”
“Yeah.”
I pulled back the curtain to find Will slumping in the chair. Foamy suds covered his blue-black hair, though it looked like he’d slicked the strands back to keep the soap from his eyes.
He’d also thrown a washcloth over his lap.
Keeping my eyes determinedly northward, I contemplated my options, eventually deciding it would be easier if I rinsed his hair using water from the sink. It would have been a tight squeeze for me to hop into the shower stall with him, not to mention I would either have to get naked or soak my clothes to do so. I reached out to grab the water handle as I told him my plan.
Once I’d turned off the shower, and with the door to the hallway open, the steam cleared quickly. I found a clean cup in the cabinet and turned the sink on lukewarm. Will tilted his head back. Minutes ticked by as I poured cup after cup of water over his silky curls.
His eyes stayed closed, and it was impossible not to look at him as I went about my task. The water sluiced over his tight body, down the long line of his exposed neck, across the indents of his collarbone and chest, pooling around the washcloth in his lap. I watched, hypnotized, as soap bubbles traveled and popped over the wiry dark hair covering his thighs.
An angry purple bruise covered most of his right hip, its edges already fading to a greenish-yellow. It reminded me of the doctor’s revelation that Will had metal pins in his leg, and upon examining his left side, I could make out the faint line of a surgery scar across his thigh extending to above his knee.
I developed a rhythm of filling the cup from the tap, bringing it over to pour wherever soap remained. Head. Shoulders. Chest. Thighs. The scrap of fabric in his lap. Carefully. To make each cup count. Still, his eyes stayed closed, those heavy lashes commanding my attention as I worked above him. Two days’ worth of stubble shadowed his jaw. Back and forth, I pivoted from the wet floor of the stall to the bathroom tiles, resulting in the occasional unintentional brush of my breasts against the crown of his skull.
He sank into my ministrations, shoulders relaxing, humming in contentment as I raked my hands through his hair, coaxing the last bits of shampoo away. His reaction prompted me to massage my fingers against his scalp. At the deeper touch, a small sigh escaped him, and the washcloth over his cock twitched.
His eyes opened quickly.
“Sorry,” he said, both hands coming down over his groin.
“Don’t worry about it.” Turning my back to him, I released my own uneven breath. I filled another cup of water, running it over his neck. “I think all the shampoo’s out now.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me help you back to bed.”
Without preamble, I placed one of the large towels I’d brought in earlier over his lap. I coaxed him to use my shoulder for leverage to gain a standing position. Once he stood, I bunched the ends of the towel together at his lower back—getting a split-second view of the two perfectly round mini-basketballs that comprised his ass—before bringing the gathered ends around for him to hold in front of himself.
“There,” I said. “You’re showered and covered up. I think that’s good enough for now, and you can deal with getting dressed once your energy levels are back up.”
He looked deathly pale already. He slung an arm over my shoulders just before his left leg buckled. We almost fell together—I barely stopped us—and I glared at his hands when I realized he’d placed a priority on holding the towel together as opposed to reaching out to brace himself. “I don’t want to give you a show you didn’t ask for,” he offered by way of explanation.
“Don’t worry about being modest.” I huffed. “Just don’t fall. James and Marley would kill me if something happened to you on my watch.”
“You’re only helping me for them, huh?”
“I suppose there are other reasons.” I leaned back to make an exaggerated show of checking out his butt.
He barked a laugh.
In the bedroom, I sat him down on the edge of the bed before drying off his hair and the rest of his body with a fresh towel. He watched with hooded eyes as I ran the soft cotton over his head and neck, then along his arms. I kneeled in front of him to dry off his knees, calves, and feet, pushing up slightly against the towel he still had wrapped around his waist.
After I finished, I pulled back the clean top sheet.
“In you go,” I ordered. “Drop your towel around your waist on the floor. I’ll close my eyes to protect your virtue.”
I heard a rustling before Will said, “Okay.” When I turned around, he was lying against the pillows, the sheet covering him to mid-chest.
Gingerly, I lowered myself to the mattress edge. “Whelp, that was way more exciting than it needed to be.”
“Sorry I overestimated my abilities.”
“S’okay. At least we got it done.” I handed him his sweatpants. “I bet you’ll be able to slip these on in a few minutes, once your next wind comes. No one here is gonna blink if you go commando.”
He chuckled. “James told me you and Marley grabbed my suitcase from the hotel. Thanks for doing that. I have fresh underwear in there, but yeah, I think I’ll wait a few minutes before I move again, if that’s okay.”
“Fine by me. Whatever you need.”
I got up and rolled my neck from side to side, working out the kinks from three days of sleeping poorly, stretching my arms and fingers in an arch above my head. At the motion, Will sucked in a sharp breath. His intense gaze met mine. I glanced down to find my tank top completely soaked, the curve of my breasts and the pebbled state of my nipples entirely on display.
His eyes burned.
“I’m going to heat some soup for you,” I said, and got the hell out of there.