Chapter 6 #2
“Good. Good.” He squeezes on my right thigh before moving to the left, and when his palm comes in contact with my knee, I let out a yelp.
“Looks like we have a winner,” he chimes and lowers the blanket to my ankles. Tugging at the waist of my pajama pants, he says, “You’ll have to take these off.”
I stay still, suddenly forgetting how to use my hands and legs.
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Looks like I’ll have to help with that too. You might be in shock from the fall. I saw it from the camera in my office. It was a nasty one.”
“You’re . . .” My throat tightens. “You’re watching me.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes. How else am I supposed to monitor you properly? It’s a good thing too, because we now know why you don’t look rested in the mornings and we can find a way to prevent future falls.”
“How will we do that?”
“I have a few ideas up my sleeve, but let’s check out that knee first.”
“It’s . . . it’s both knees.” My voice shakes.
“Both knees, then.” His expression is serious as he tugs down my pants, and I lift my hips as he slides them past my knees. “Maybe we can keep these off for the rest of the night. We don’t need the fabric irritating your skin where the injury is.”
“Okay.” My eyes dart to where he is, low on the bed, yanking my pajama pants to the floor. He positions himself between my legs, sliding his knees up before touching each of mine.
My face scrunches up each time and his lips turn down, sympathy flashing in his eyes. It looks genuine but also not? I can’t explain it. It would be like trying to understand what’s going through my head right now, and I’m frankly too exhausted to try to make sense of it all.
“Hopefully we don’t have to perform an X-ray. I don’t have all my new equipment set up for that yet.”
“I don’t think it’s anything serious. Maybe some bruising and a sprain.”
His eyes lift to mine. “Maybe. Tell me if anything I do makes the pain worse.” He lifts my left and bends my knee.
I cringe, biting back a groan, and he extends it out again causing me to let out a trembling breath.
“Yeah, very well could be a sprain. I’ll go get you and ice pack and we’ll elevate both legs for the next hour.”
“So, you don’t think I need an X-ray, then?”
His gaze roams over my body. “There’s no disfigurement, and I didn’t hear any concerning sounds while moving your leg to suggest you do.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Who knew I’d actually be right.”
“It really isn’t that hard to believe, is it? From all I’ve been able to see so far, you’re a very smart man.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a PhD.”
He laughs. “Do you want a PhD?”
I ponder that thought and scrunch my nose. “No. Being a doctor sounds too demanding for me.”
“Yeah.” He pats my thigh. “I think so too. Don’t worry, you’ll figure out your place in the world, all in good time.”
“I thought I did.”
His eyes screw together. “What? With the stealing?”
“Yes. I know most people wouldn’t understand, but it’s what I’ve always gotten right.”
“Yeah, until now. See this as a sign that it’s time to try a new path.”
I push out a huff. “Please don’t be one of those people who’s going to try to convince me to go back to school.”
“I’m not. We’ve already both decided it wasn’t for you.”
“You decided?’
“I know what you’re meant to do. What your calling is. I’ve known since you got in my car. You’re figuring it out now too.” He shifts his weight off the bed. “I’ll get that ice pack. I’ll be back.”
I slowly sit up, and when I try to lift my knee, I grit my teeth at the deep ache.
Fuck. I’m such a damn mess of a person, more so here than anywhere else.
Why doesn’t he want to get rid of me yet?
You’d think he’d want to cut my time short with how much work I’ve been.
I’m ruining his sleep, and surely he has better things to do than to constantly tend to all my boo boos.
I rub at my leg, lifting myself up in the bed and adjusting the pillow behind my back.
He returns minutes later with something blue in his hand.
His blue pinstriped robe sways around him, and it’s only now that I realize he’s shirtless.
Fuck, is he a work of art too. He doesn’t have chiseled abs, but his stomach is toned with a smooth surface.
He’s fucking beautiful, and here he is wasting two weeks with me.
What could he really be getting out of all this?
He lightly brushes my injured areas and then lays an ice pack on each leg, positioning them where they won’t fall unless I move too much. Which I might.
He holds onto both packs as he stuffs a pillow under each of my knees.
When he’s done positioning everything to his liking, with a satisfied look in his eyes, he tucks me into bed again, the same way as before.
And as I’m about to question if it’ll be enough, he pulls two oddly shaped pillows from the closet.
“These are wedges. I’m going to shove them under each side of your body while you stay wrapped in the blanket. It’ll give you extra security.”
“Doesn’t sound too comfortable, but okay.”
“It’s better than it sounds, trust me, and I think you’ll feel safer going back to sleep with them under you.”
“Okay.” Because what else can I say? He’s doing this to help me.
I’m hurting myself, and he cares enough to prevent me from doing it.
The more I think about it, the more I recall myself falling and tripping more than the average person.
This is supposed to be my way of paying him back for what I stole, and yet I’m getting way more out of the deal. Is he really okay with that?
He shoves a wedge under each side of me, loosening the blanket around the bed so it can accommodate them better. “Okay,” he says with one knee on the mattress. “How’s that?”
I try to rock from side to side and fail. “Good. I think they’ll really help keep me in bed longer this time.”
“Me too.” He gives me a smile and shuts off the light on his way out.
“I’ll see you again in the morning. Well . . . at a more decent time, that is.”
“Night, again. Or morning night.”
His laughter drifts from where I am, and before he shuts the door behind him, he says, “Sleep better this time, and call out if you need to use the restroom or need more water. I don’t want you walking on those bad knees until I feel you’re steady enough.”
“Will do.”
“Don’t forget. Good patients stay in bed when they’re supposed to. I really don’t want to have to move to option three.”
I don’t ask what option three is and instead say nothing, closing my eyes and thinking about whether I should move along the process of getting to it by doing what he told me not to.