37. Let It Lose
LET IT LOSE
“ I could have stayed at your place,” Emma said on Tuesday afternoon.
“Nope,” he said. “You didn’t have your laptop or anything else. You would have had to come here to get it all.”
“My mother would have done it for me,” she argued.
The hospital released Warren on Monday. The team flew them home via a private jet. Casey and Stephanie drove back home once Emma said she’d stay with Warren for the first week.
That had been her plan when they arrived at his house last night, but he said that he’d rather recover on the island.
“I appreciate it,” he said. “But you are more comfortable here, and truthfully, so am I. You know I’ll stay out of your way. I need to relax anyway. What better place to do it than here, instead of worrying about people stopping over to see me at my place?”
“You’ve got a point,” she said.
He’d never stayed at her house for a full week before, but that was the plan. She’d driven his SUV from his house to the ferry and then boarded it.
“You’re not going to argue with me?” he asked.
“No,” she said. Though he looked a lot better and wasn’t as confused, he did tire easily. He even slept half the drive to her place. “Go lie down and I’ll get your clothes.”
“I can carry my bag,” he said.
“Warren, I’ll raise my voice if you argue, and then I’ll still get your stuff. Find a spot in the house to plant your ass and keep it there. I’ll get us some lunch.”
He squinted one eye at her, but moved into the house while she went back to get two bags out of his SUV. It was more than a week’s worth of clothing that she’d packed without him knowing.
He could fly over for an appointment with the team doctors in the helicopter, but other than that, he was doing what he was told even if she had to sit on him to get him to stay.
She brought his stuff to her room and dropped it on the floor. She’d unpack it later when he was napping, but she was hungry.
When she came back downstairs, she didn’t see him anywhere but walked through the kitchen into her sunroom. He was in a chair with his feet on an ottoman and Lucky in his lap.
The cat didn’t seem angry that her boyfriend hadn’t been around lately.
Unless animals could sense when something was wrong with someone.
“I know I can’t provide for you like Marcia,” she said. “But if you want a fruit and veggie platter with some yogurt I can do that. Dinner will be here with some other food for a few days in a couple of hours.”
“That sounds good,” he said. “I don’t want you waiting on me.”
“I don’t plan on it,” she said. “I’m doing it now and then I’ll explain the rest.”
She went back to the kitchen and cut up fruit and whatever vegetables she had. It’s not like she had planned on this happening. She was just lucky she still had fresh stuff in her house.
“What did you mean by dinner would be here in a few hours?” he asked when she set a big plate of everything cut up. Not arranged nicely, more haphazardly dumped down. They were just going to eat it anyway.
“Grace is off today. She’s making a few dishes for us to warm up and eat. I put a request in for what you like. So for the next several days, you’ll be able to put together food like you did when Marcia cooked for you.”
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Yes. I might get spoiled. I begged Grace and she said yes. She actually loves doing those things. As a payment, I’ve got to let Lincoln into a private suite for a game.”
It was worth it in her eyes. She planned on going to another game at some point this season anyway.
Though it didn’t seem as if it was going to be anytime soon.
Three weeks before he could even be checked out to be cleared or not.
If she was secretly hoping he wouldn’t be cleared for longer, she’d never say those words.
“That’s easy enough,” he said. “It seems a bit lopsided though.”
“Not really,” she said. “Grace has her staff making food for the rest of the time you’re here. We just have to put the order in and then I’ll pick it up. It’s like family-style food from The Retreat.”
“Now I know I’m getting spoiled,” he said.
“It doesn’t have to be menu items,” she said. “I don’t want you working or stressing or anything, but my guess is you’ve got it down somewhere what Marcia makes for you, right?”
“I do,” he said. “On my computer.”
“Then we’ll figure it out when it’s time,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“About the same,” he said. “Tired, which sucks. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a bear. Don’t hate me. The last time this happened I had to rest but not like this. Not this long or this restricted. I went nuts.”
“I won’t hate you,” she said. “Maybe we can do something together.”
“Like what?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be getting my heart rate up for a week or so. That takes sex off the table.”
“Bummer,” she said, smirking. “But I’ve gone a lot longer. Not with you under my roof, but you know. We’ll be fine. I thought you could plot a book for me if you want.”
“What? Plot a book? I don’t know how to do that.”
“Because you’ve never tried. But you’re smart and you understand what I do and how I do it. I’ll explain some formulas to you.”
“We’ve got to do math?” he asked. “That was my worst subject.”
She picked up a strawberry and put it to his lips. “Eat and don’t talk. It’s not a math formula. Books follow formulas. Basic ones. An introduction, an incident that allows you to meet the characters, rising tension, climax, and a resolution. Start like that. Then build out from each one.”
“Do you do this?” he asked. “I thought you just wrote without a plot.”
“I do mainly,” she said. “But I have a few things like this lined up. I know how I want my characters’ personalities to be, and then I start to write. They don’t always follow the same path as I start them.”
“They mature,” he said. “Like you.”
“Hey,” she said, trying to take offense to that. “I’ve always been mature.”
“You’ve always joked, but you’re not doing it as much. How come?”
“I still joke,” she said. “But maybe there are serious things in life too. It could be I didn’t have enough in my life personally before to take seriously.”
He held his hand out. “Maybe,” he said. “But I still like the person I met bartending seven months ago.”
“Seven months,” she said. “I think this is the longest I’ve been in a relationship. How about you?”
“Oh, we are getting serious,” he said. “I think my head is hurting.”
She gave him a playful shove. “Now who is joking? Or does it hurt?”
He laughed and then yawned. She could see he was tired again and had been told he should nap often.
“It doesn’t hurt any more than it has been,” he said.
“Do you want an ice pack?” She knew he didn’t want to take too many pain meds, even if it was just Tylenol.
“Maybe in a bit,” he said. “The food is helping already.”
“There is plenty of water too,” she said. “I know you drink a lot. There are cases in the pantry and a filtered water jug in the fridge.”
“I’ll use that more than the bottled water,” he said.
“Whatever you want or need, just get it.”
“You can stop watching over me,” he said. “I know I’m going to be difficult, but it will be worse if I think I’m pulling you away from work. I know you’ve got things to do.”
She cringed. “I do,” she said. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he said. “I’m going to have some more food and then shut my eyes. Lucky and I can take a nap together.”
“Will I bother you if I’m writing in here? The pounding of my fingers on the keyboard?”
“No,” he said. “It might put me to sleep. If it bothers me, I’ll go into the living room or bedroom, though I don’t want to spend a lot of time lying down either.”
“You know where everything is,” she said. “Make yourself at home.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, walking over to kiss him.
He reached his hand up and wrapped it in her hair, and gave her more than a peck on the lips.
He wasn’t anywhere close to okay, but she could tell he was trying to get her to think he was.
She retrieved her laptop from where she’d left it charging in her office and returned to the sunroom. She’d been taking notes for days on this story and others she wanted to work on, then putting them in a shared file syncing to her computer from her phone.
Last night it came to her it’d give Warren something to do. She knew he’d be listening to podcasts or watching TV, but his brain was going to need some activity at some point.
He got into it on the one book he helped her with, why not see if they could do another? Or something different.
She saw him pushing the plate of food aside. Most of the fruit was gone, but not the veggies. “Didn’t I cut them the right way?” she asked, crossing her eyes at him.
He wanted to see that funny side of her, so why not let it loose again?
“The crunch hurts my head,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize that. I’ll put them away for you. I don’t eat raw veggies. I only have them to cook or put in a salad more than anything.”
“I thought you didn’t eat anything healthy.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know how you got that impression. I met someone recently who convinced me that the better things I put in my body are, the better things come out of it. I know it happens in the bathroom.”
He laughed. “Okay, the old Emma is back.”
“She never left,” she said. “I think you’ve just had me worried for days.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said.
“And stop apologizing. I’m just being honest. Now I’m going to work and you relax.”
She removed the plate and put the rest of his lunch away, then returned to the sunroom to write.
Two hours later, her brain had emptied for the moment, so she went to check on her notes and detoured to Facebook.
She had several private messages and went to scan them over. Most were readers or fellow authors and she’d get to them when she could.
But one caught her eye and had her clicking on it to see if it was him.
Sean Showers.
What the hell?
She went to his profile and yep, it was Warren’s father, but why was he contacting her?
She looked over to see Warren had moved to the couch and was sleeping.
Emma opened the message to read that Sean had been reaching out to see how Warren was doing. He’d seen him get hurt and no one would give him any information. He’d been reaching out to Warren for weeks and needed his help, but Warren wasn’t returning his messages. If she could let him know.
Was that part of why Warren hadn’t been himself at the last game?
And why wouldn’t he tell her any of this?
She told him everything, but it seemed he didn’t share that with her.