Chapter Fourteen
Jasper
Two weeks without the gym sounded manageable when a doctor said it. Living through it was an entirely different matter.
By Wednesday morning, I’d discovered there were only so many books a man could read, television shows he could watch and errands he could invent before restlessness became impossible to ignore.
Exercise had always been more than a hobby for me.
It provided routine, structure, and an outlet for everything the job occasionally left behind.
Without it, the days seemed longer than usual and my patience noticeably shorter.
Cody noticed immediately.
"You look miserable."
I glanced across the kitchen.
"Good morning to you too."
"I'm serious."
The conversation continued while he prepared coffee and I pretended not to be irritated by his presence. Unfortunately, the man had spent enough years around me to recognise frustration when he saw it.
"You'll survive another week."
"I know."
"Then stop acting like somebody cancelled Christmas."
I stared at him.
"That comparison doesn't even make sense."
"It wasn't supposed to."
The annoying part was that he wasn't entirely wrong.
Later that morning I took the elevator downstairs and let myself into the building gym. The familiar smell of rubber flooring and disinfectant should have felt reassuring. Instead, it served as a reminder that my normal routine remained out of reach.
A few regulars noticed the sling immediately.
Questions followed, explanations followed the questions and sympathy followed the explanations. By the time I finally escaped the conversation and reached the area where I normally trained, I'd already repeated the same summary half a dozen times.
I completed the handful of rehabilitation exercises approved by my physical therapist before spending several minutes staring at equipment I wasn't yet cleared to use. I understood why the restrictions existed, but that knowledge did little to reduce the frustration of standing on the sidelines.
"You look like somebody stole your favourite toy."
I glanced toward the speaker.
"Feels that way, Mike."
He nodded toward my shoulder.
"Doctor still torturing you?"
"Apparently recovery requires patience."
"Who’s have thought it?” He said somewhat sarcastically.
The exchange generated several laughs from nearby members. By the time I left an hour later, my mood had improved slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough to remind me that normal life still existed beyond doctors, medications, and recovery schedules.
Fortunately, Aurora helped considerably.
Over the following week we managed several dates despite the limitations imposed by our injuries. None of them were particularly elaborate. Most involved simple dinners, long conversations, and finding reasons to spend time together. The activities mattered less than the company.
Thursday evening found us sharing dinner at a small Italian restaurant within walking distance of her apartment. Aurora’s return to school continued successfully and she possessed approximately two hundred stories involving students determined to investigate every detail of her accident.
The conversation drifted naturally from there. Teaching, Firehouse 99, books, travel, and countless unrelated subjects filled the next two hours. I continued discovering new things about her every time we met which made me like her more and more.
Saturday afternoon we visited a museum.
The outing required considerably more planning than either of us wanted to admit because neither of us could move particularly quickly. Aurora still relied on her walking boot and I remained restricted by my shoulder. Together we probably equalled one functional adult.
"I feel ninety."
Aurora glanced at me.
"Only ninety?"
"Fine. Ninety-five."
"That's better."
The museum itself proved worthwhile. We spent several hours wandering through exhibits while discussing everything from history to architecture. More than once I found myself paying less attention to the displays than the woman standing beside me. Fortunately, she seemed equally distracted.
The physical side of our relationship, limited as it was, continued developing alongside everything else but taking it forward presented its own challenges.
The attraction between us had become impossible to ignore, but the timing remained spectacularly inconvenient.
My shoulder limited movement while Aurora's leg created entirely different complications.
Every kiss seemed to end with both of us becoming painfully aware of restrictions neither of us particularly appreciated.
The frustration escalated the following Tuesday evening.
Aurora had invited me over after work. Dinner had been eaten, dishes had been cleaned, and we were sharing the couch while discussing a television show neither of us appeared particularly interested in watching.
Her head rested against my shoulder.
My hand traced slow circles across her arm.
The arrangement should have been relaxing.
Instead, I found myself increasingly distracted by the woman beside me and my dick was becoming increasingly painful behind the zipper of my jeans.
When she tilted her face toward mine, I forgot whatever conversation we’d been having. The kiss started gently before deepening quickly. My free hand settled against her waist while she shifted closer. Several minutes later, common sense finally managed to reassert itself.
Barely.
Aurora drew back first.
"This is becoming ridiculous."
I laughed softly.
"A little."
"A lot."
The honesty generated matching smiles.
Neither of us seemed particularly interested in pretending attraction wasn't becoming more difficult to manage.
A few days later, the situation became considerably worse.
Or better.
Possibly both.
I arrived at Aurora's apartment on Friday evening to discover she had abandoned her walking boot while relaxing at home. Her recovery had progressed significantly over the previous week, and seeing the improvement should have been my primary focus.
Unfortunately, I was still a man and the dress she wore didn't help. Neither did the smile she gave me when she opened the door. By the time dinner ended, my ability to focus on anything except Aurora had deteriorated significantly.
Aurora noticed my discomfort and distraction and it seemed to amuse her.
"Something funny?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Maybe."
I narrowed my eyes and her smile widened.
Later, while sitting together on the couch, Aurora curled against my side and rested her hand against my chest. The simple contact should have been innocent, but when her gaze lifted to mine, the awareness passing between us required very little interpretation.
Slowly, she slid her fingers through my hair before trailing them lightly along the back of my neck. My breath caught unexpectedly when her hand rested on my groin. The smile that followed told me she noticed.
"Dangerous."
Aurora looked entirely too pleased with herself.
"Really?"
"Very."
The laughter in her eyes deepened.
What followed remained gentle, exploratory, and restrained more by circumstance than desire. The limitations were frustrating, but they forced us to slow down and savour each moment in a way we otherwise might have missed.
Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, then drifted down, pausing at the collar of my shirt.
I quickly threw off the sling and with a look of quiet concentration, Aurora worked the first button of my shirt free, then the next, her movements slow and deliberate. My own hands, remembering the bandages and the ache in my shoulder, stayed at my sides, clenched into loose fists.
When her hand found the zipper of my jeans, she met my eyes again—a silent question.
I gave a slight nod, my throat too tight for words.
The sound of the zipper was loud in the quiet room.
She hesitated, her palm a warm, steady pressure over the fabric of my boxers before she carefully slipped her hand inside.
Her touch was tentative at first, a soft, curious stroke that made me suck in a sharp breath. She adjusted her angle, mindful of both our injuries, and her touch became more confident.
It was an act of focused tenderness, her thumb smoothing over the head of my cock, her fingers curling around the shaft with a rhythm that was achingly slow.
Her forehead came to rest against my temple, her breath warm on my cheek.
Every sensation was amplified by the forced stillness, by the knowledge that this was all we could allow ourselves. For now.
"Your turn," I murmured against her hair, my voice rough.
She shook her head slightly, her eyes closed. "Just…this. Let me."
But I couldn't. My good hand tugged at the hem of her soft sweater. I pushed it up slowly, exposing the flat plane of her stomach. She didn't stop me. When my fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her leggings, she let out a soft sigh, her own rhythm on my cock faltering for a second.
I found her warm and already wet. She gasped, her head falling back against the couch cushion.
My touch was a little clumsy, hindered by the restriction of movement and awkward angle, but I persevered, tracing the folds of her with a reverence the situation demanded.
Her hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk, and she bit her lip.
We moved together in a strained, syncopated rhythm. Her hand on me, my hand on her. Both of us breathing in shallow, ragged pants, both of us careful not to jostle a wounded limb or twist a sore muscle. It was intimacy in fragments, pleasure parsed through a filter of pain.
Her climax came quietly, a series of tremors that rolled through her, her hand stilling on me as she cried out softly into the crook of my neck.
The feel of her pulsing around my fingers pushed me over the edge moments later.
My release was a sharp, shuddering relief, a warmth that spread through the tension and the ache.
For a long while, we stayed like that, entangled but careful, her head on my shoulder, our breathing slowly returning to normal. The room was quiet save for the hum of the refrigerator.
She was the first to speak, her voice a drowsy murmur. "We're really bad at taking it easy, aren't we?"
A low chuckle vibrated in my chest. "Terrible."
But as I pressed a kiss to her hair, smelling the scent of her skin, I knew I wouldn't have had it any other way. In the broken spaces, we had found a way to be whole.
By the following Monday, my follow-up appointment finally arrived. I spent most of the morning attempting not to think about the possible outcomes. The effort failed.
By the time I arrived at the clinic, anticipation had become impossible to ignore. The stitches had irritated me for days, and the prospect of hearing positive news felt long overdue.
Fortunately, the appointment delivered exactly that.
The doctor examined my shoulder carefully before removing the remaining stitches.
The process proved considerably less dramatic than expected and far less painful than the original injury.
Once everything had been checked a final time, he reviewed the latest scans and nodded with obvious satisfaction.
"You're healing well."
Relief immediately settled through me.
He returned several documents to the folder.
"You still need to be sensible."
The doctor pointed toward my shoulder.
"Maintain use of the sling to rest the shoulder when you feel it’s needed. No heavy lifting. No heroics. Continue physical therapy. Light gym sessions only and I mean…light."
"I can do that."
"You're cleared for light duties and driving but if you ignore my instructions, I’ll pull your ass until your shoulder is one hundred percent."
“I’ll follow them to the letter,” I agreed.
For the first time since the accident, returning to work no longer felt like a distant goal. It was finally within reach.
The walk home felt considerably shorter than usual and before I reached my apartment, I called Aurora.
She answered almost immediately.
"Everything okay?"
I grinned like the Cheshire Cat.
"Stitches are gone."
"That's good."
"I'm also cleared for light duties and driving."
The excitement in her response matched my own.
"Jasper, that's amazing."
The grin remained firmly in place.
"It is."
For the first time in weeks, the frustration that had accompanied recovery finally began easing. Physical therapy still lay ahead and full operational clearance remained several weeks away, but for the first time recovery felt less like an obstacle and more like a path forward.
And later that evening, when Aurora greeted me with a kiss that immediately made every sensible thought disappear, I found myself looking forward to far more than returning to work.