14. Trevor
Chapter fourteen
Trevor
I guided Amelia through her front door, wrestling with her crutches and the narrowness of the hallway. Each wince and pained hop sent a fresh stab of guilt through my chest. This was all my fault. If only I hadn't suggested that dang hike.
"Watch out for the--" Amelia started to warn me, but it was too late. The crutch caught on the edge of a side table, nearly sending us both sprawling. I tightened my grip on her waist, steadying her.
"Sorry, sorry," I muttered, my face heating. Some rescuer I was turning out to be. Finally, we made it to the living room couch. I arranged the pillows, gently helping Amelia elevate her swollen ankle. She sighed in relief as she sank back against the cushions.
"I'll make us some tea," I said, needing a moment to collect myself. Amelia nodded gratefully, reaching for her phone as I headed to the kitchen. I put the tea kettle on and waited for the water to boil.
It had been a long 24 hours. When the rain had let up, and it got light outside, I carried Amelia the rest of the way down the mountain. Susan picked Amelia up to drive her to the doctor. I rode my motorcycle home and got Amelia’s car so that I could meet them there and bring Amelia home. Thankfully, she just had a sprained ankle, and the doctor said to stay off of it for a few days and keep it iced.
The tea tray clattered slightly as I carried it back to the living room, setting it carefully on the coffee table. Amelia flashed me a smile as she ended the call.
"Emily says hi," she said teasingly. "And she wanted me to ask - what exactly are your intentions with her poor invalid sister-in-law?"
I nearly choked on my tea. Leave it to Emily to cut right to the chase. "Ah... I think my current intention is to avoid further injuring you. And make you as comfortable as possible.”
"Lucky me, I have my very own knight in shining armor." Her eyes danced despite the pain she must have been in.
"At your service, my lady." I gave her a little mock bow, grinning. "Foot elevation and tea delivery included."
Amelia snorted with laughter as she reached for her mug. "Oh yes, such knightly duties. Forget slaying dragons. It's all about that tea service."
I feigned shock, clutching my chest dramatically. "Are you suggesting my tea isn't up to knightly standards?"
"Of course not," she giggled, sipping her tea. "You brew a mean chamomile, Sir Trevor."
I couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through my chest as we laughed. I was glad that Amelia was still in high spirits despite the accident.
"Do you wanna watch a show?" Amelia asked after
a few minutes of comfortable silence, her fingers tracing idly around the rim of her tea mug.
“Sounds good,” I replied, reaching for the remote, “Your pick.”
"How about a bit of 'Gardening Unleashed’? The competitors must do a DIY project using unconventional materials in a day."
"DIY gardening it is," I agreed, settling beside her on the couch, maintaining a respectful distance. For an hour or so, we laughed and commented on the outrageous designs.
"I should probably get started on dinner," I said, rising from the couch after the episode. "Any preferences?"
Amelia's eyes lit up. "Ooh, can we make that pasta dish you mentioned loving? The one with the sun-dried tomatoes and basil? I have all the ingredients."
I chuckled. "Ambitious, aren't we? Alright, one gourmet pasta coming right up. You sit tight and try not to break anything else while I'm gone."
"No promises!" Amelia called after me as I headed into the kitchen, shaking my head with a grin.
I began gathering ingredients, trying to navigate the unfamiliar space. “Where do you keep the lids for the pans?” I shouted to Amelia. A few minutes later, she hobbled in, insisting on helping despite my protests.
"You're supposed to be resting," I reminded her, exasperated but amused by her stubbornness.
"And miss out on all the fun? Not a chance," she retorted, hopping over to the counter on one foot.
What followed was a comical dance of near-disasters. I tried maneuvering around Amelia's crutches while she hopped from spot to spot, determined to be helpful. We bumped into each other constantly, apologies and laughter mingling.
Just as I reached for the basil, Amelia's crutch caught on the edge of the rug. She stumbled, flailing her arms for balance. Instinctively, I lunged to catch her, sending the container of flour flying in the process.
We stood there, frozen, as a cloud of white powder settled over us like snow. Amelia's face was a mask of shock, her dark hair now comically pale. I imagined I looked no better.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. Then, Amelia dissolved into a fit of giggles. I couldn't help it - I started laughing too, deep belly laughs that shook my whole frame.
"Well," Amelia managed between giggles, "I guess we can add 'flour fight' to our list of adventures."
I grinned, brushing a streak of white from her cheek. "Wouldn't be a proper dinner without a little chaos, right?"
She smiled up at me, eyes sparkling with delight. "Definitely not. But maybe we should clean up before round two."
Chuckling, I helped her brush the worst of the flour off, my heart doing that now-familiar flip in my chest at her closeness.
This woman was going to be the death of me. But looking at her flour-dusted face, her smile brighter than the sun... I couldn't bring myself to mind one bit.
After cleaning up the floury mess, we settled on the couch with our slightly lopsided but still edible dinner. A comfortable silence stretched between us as we ate, broken only by the clink of cutlery and Hero's occasional snuffling at our feet.
"So," Amelia said casually, "I heard you making some noises in your sleep while we were in the shelter. Like you were trying to scream or something."
I froze, my fork pausing midway to my mouth. A knot of dread twisted in my gut. I'd hoped she hadn't noticed that I could keep that part of myself locked away. But looking at her open, caring face... I took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to let someone in.
"I... have nightmares sometimes," I admitted, my voice rougher than I'd like. "From my time in the military. Things I saw, things I did..." I trailed off, watching her face carefully, bracing for pity or judgment.
But Amelia just nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "That must be hard," she said softly. "Carrying that with you."
I blinked, surprised. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."
She reached out, her hand resting gently on mine. "I get it. I mean, not exactly, but... I struggle with anxiety. Have for years. It can feel like you're drowning sometimes, you know?"
I turned my hand over, lacing our fingers together. "I know." Looking into her eyes, I realized I truly did. For the first time, I felt like someone saw me—all of me, cracks and scars and all.
We sat like that for a long moment, hands intertwined, a new understanding stretching between us. Then Amelia grinned, squeezing my hand.
"You know what we need? An impromptu date night. Right now."
I raised an eyebrow. "Right now? With your ankle?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Details. Come on, let's go to my flower shop. It's just down the hall."
Shaking my head but unable to suppress a smile, I helped her up, handing over her crutches. We made our way slowly down the hallway, Amelia determinedly hopping along.
Suddenly, a brown blur shot past us - Hero, chasing some imaginary prey. Amelia yelped, her crutch catching on Hero’s leg. I caught her quickly, giving Hero an exasperated look. The little dog just wagged his tail, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Hero," I scolded, "we talked about this. No tripping the injured lady."
Amelia laughed, steadying herself on my arm. "It's okay. He wants to join the party." She reached down to scratch Hero's ears, cooing, "Don't you, handsome boy?"
The three of us entered the flower shop together, Hero trotting at our heels.
As we entered the flower shop, I felt like a bull in a china shop, carefully maneuvering around the delicate displays. I was acutely aware of Amelia's crutches, trying my best not to knock anything over. My eyes darted around, quickly spotting a comfortable chair.
"Here, keep that ankle elevated," I insisted, gesturing to the chair. I couldn't help the concern that crept into my voice.
Amelia rolled her eyes but complied, propping her foot on a nearby stool. "Yes, Doctor Phillips," she teased.
I smirked, crossing my arms. "That's Firefighter Phillips to you."
A mischievous grin spread across Amelia's face, and I braced myself. "Hey, since we're in my domain now, how about a little challenge?"
"What kind of challenge?" I asked, suspicion creeping in.
"A flower-arranging contest!" she announced, and I felt a flash of panic.
I rubbed the back of my neck, eyeing the flowers warily. "I don't know, Amelia. I'm not exactly known for my artistic skills."
She waved off my concerns. "That's the point! It's about letting loose and getting creative."
With a sigh, I relented. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Amelia's laughter filled the shop as I began fumbling with the flowers. I was acutely aware of how out of place my large hands looked among the delicate blooms. I could feel my face scrunching in concentration.
"No, no," Amelia giggled, "the baby's breath goes between the roses, not on top."
I shot her a mock glare. "Hey, I'm a beginner, remember?"
As I tried to follow her instructions, I felt my tongue poking out slightly in focus. Despite my lack of skill, I was determined to create something beautiful for her.
I could feel Amelia's eyes on me as I struggled with the flowers, my fingers clumsy and awkward. I was way out of my depth here, but seeing her smile made it all worth it.
As I reached for a particularly stubborn stem, my elbow knocked against the vase, sending a spray of water straight at Amelia. She gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Oh, man, I'm so sorry!" I stammered, frantically searching for a towel.
But instead of getting angry, Amelia burst into laughter. She grabbed a handful of rose petals and tossed them at me.
"Oh, it's on," I growled playfully, scooping up my ammunition.
We began a full-on flower fight, petals flying through the air as we laughed and dodged. I was careful to keep the action within Amelia's reach, mindful of her limited mobility, but she held her own, her aim surprisingly accurate.
As the last petal fluttered to the ground, I looked at Amelia, her hair disheveled and cheeks flushed, and felt a warmth spread through my chest.
In that moment, I realized that this - the laughter, the playfulness, the easy companionship - was what I had been missing for so long. And I knew, with a certainty that both thrilled and terrified me, that I never wanted to let it go.
I sat down in the chair next to her. "I think it's safe to say I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon," I joked, gesturing to my pitiful attempts at flower arranging.
Amelia reached for one of my creations, a lopsided arrangement of daisies and baby's breath. "I don't know, Trevor. This one has a certain... charm."
"Charm? Well, that’s one way to put it."
She laughed, the sound filling the shop. "Okay, maybe 'charm' is a bit of a stretch. But it's the effort that counts, right?"
I watched as she carefully rearranged the flowers, her delicate fingers coaxing them into a more pleasing shape. The simple act felt intimate, like a glimpse into her world.
"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Amelia looked up, her eyes searching mine. "For what?"
"For tonight. For listening. For... everything."
She reached out, her hand finding mine. "You're welcome, Trevor. I'm glad you trusted me enough to open up."
We sat like that for a while, the silence comfortable and familiar. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt a sense of peace.
As the night wound down, I helped Amelia navigate back to her apartment, her crutches clicking against the floor. We reached her bedroom door, and I was about to say goodnight when Amelia bit her lip, looking sheepish.
"Um, Trevor? I hate to ask, but... I might need some help changing into my pajamas. I can change my shirt, but I don't think I can manage the bottoms with my ankle wrapped."
My face instantly felt hot. "Oh, uh, sure. No problem," I stammered, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
I helped Amelia locate her pajama bottoms, then stood awkwardly holding them out. My eyes squeezed shut so tightly that I saw stars.
"Okay, I've got the top on," Amelia said. "Just... keep your eyes closed for a minute?"
I nodded, feeling like a fool standing there with my eyes clenched shut. I heard the rustle of fabric and Amelia's occasional huffs of frustration.
Suddenly, there was a yelp and the sound of Amelia losing her balance. My eyes flew open without thinking as I reached out to steady her, my hands grasping her waist. Our eyes met, and for a moment, we both froze. Amelia's shirt was long enough to preserve her modesty, but the situation was still awkward.
We both busted out in laughter. The absurdity of the situation hit us both at once - me, standing there like a statue, and Amelia hopping around on one foot, caught in a pajama-changing fiasco.
"I think I can manage from here," Amelia said, still giggling. "Thanks for being my knight in shining armor... or should I say, my firefighter in flannel?"
I grinned, my face burning as I quickly averted my eyes again. "Anytime, damsel in distress. Just don't make a habit of it, or I might have to start charging for my services."
"Well, Mr. Phillips, I'll keep that in mind."
"Goodnight, Amelia," I called back as I retreated towards the door. Hero followed, and I hooked on his leash with a gentle click. His tail wagged in response. I bent down to pat his small head, getting licked in the face for my effort. "Alright, buddy," I said, "time for some shut-eye."
I returned to my apartment, feeling a bit giddy from the evening's events. It had been a long time since I'd felt so at ease with someone, and I couldn't help but smile as I settled into bed.
Hero jumped onto my bed and curled up next to me. His warm breath tickled my face as he sighed contentedly. I stroked his soft fur absentmindedly, replaying the night's events in my mind, and slowly drifted off to sleep.