26. Toren
Toren
My crutch smacked a table leg as I wove between the couch and the coffee table.
Muttering a curse, I caught myself with the other one.
These stupid things would be the death of me.
The doctor said I could transition to a walking boot after my hand surgery.
She’d wanted me to keep my weight off of it for a couple of days, so some of the swelling could go down.
I had a feeling she’d rather I stay off of it longer, but the surgery would put a bigger cast on my hand, making it harder to use the crutches.
In that way, it was a blessing. I couldn’t wait to ditch these stupid sticks.
I flopped onto the couch and propped my foot on the coffee table, wincing as the bones, tendons, and ligaments settled.
I had some stronger painkillers I could take, but I didn’t want to.
They made me loopy, and I hated the feeling.
I’d probably take one tonight just to help me sleep a little better. But for now, I planned to tough it out.
My head fell back against the cushions, and I closed my eyes.
There was a knock at the door.
“Seriously?” I groaned, opening my eyes. Who could that be? Lana had left an hour ago. Since then, I’d put my gear away and started a load of laundry. I just wanted to sit for a few minutes.
Another knock sounded.
Rather than get up, I just yelled toward the door. “It’s open!” If it was Deke, come to take me out, well, I guess I was screwed.
But it wasn’t Deke. It was Walker.
“Hey, man.” He walked in and shut the door. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. What are you doing here?” I looked up at him from my spot on the couch as he stopped in front of me.
“Just checking on you. I didn’t hear from you yesterday, so I figured I should stop by and see if you need anything.”
“I’m good. Pantry’s stocked.” I waved a hand toward the kitchen. “I’ve got pain meds. I’ll be all right. Plus, I can still drive. My right foot is fine, and I have one good hand.” I raised my right hand and flexed my fingers.
Walker grinned. “Why do I feel like you’d still try to drive, even if you didn’t?”
I chuckled. “Probably because I would. Speaking of driving, though. On Monday, can you give me a ride into Juneau, then bring me home later? I have to have an MRI on my ankle, then surgery on this.” I raised my bandaged left hand.
“It should just be an outpatient procedure. They’re going to pin my fingers. ”
Walker winced. “Ouch. Yeah, I can do that.” He frowned. “What about Lana, though? She’s not taking you?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t—” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you ask?”
“Why would I? She’s just a client.”
Liar, my mind whispered.
I told it to shut up.
“Yeah, right.” Walker let out a little snort. “And I fly like a grandma afraid of her own shadow.”
Rolling my eyes, I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Whatever. Look, I don’t want to talk about Lana, okay?”
Walker crossed his arms. “What did you do?” he asked, completely ignoring me. “I saw the way you looked at her, the way she looked at you. There was something there, so don’t tell me I’m full of shit.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I still wasn’t ready to process what happened.
Last night, I just shut my brain off and slept.
This morning, waking up next to her, I’d had a moment of contentment, then realized I was in bed with a woman not my wife—and feeling happy, not guilty about it.
That had been enough to make me throw up all my walls and shove all my emotions into a box to process when I was alone.
Not with Walker breathing down my neck.
My friend snorted again. “Now who’s full of shit? Look, I’ve known you a long time. Before and after Cara died. You looked at Lana the way you used to look at Cara.”
“Oh, yeah? You sure about that? Because I loved—love—Cara. I don’t love Lana.”
“You sure about that?” Walker tossed my words right back at me, one eyebrow raising in question. “Because I saw a man relaxed into a woman’s touch, grateful she was safe. I watched you step in front of her—right in front of that gun. Don’t tell me you’d do that for just anyone.”
I looked away, uncomfortable with the feelings his words provoked.
Because deep down, I had an inkling he was right. If it were any other woman Deke wanted to take hostage, would I have stood there, willing to take a bullet to keep her safe? I’d fight for her, sure, but would I deliberately step in front of a gun before a single punch was thrown?
Walker grew tired of my silence. “You have a good think on that.” He dropped his arms back down to his sides. “I’ll be happy to take you to Juneau Monday. But if you change your mind and ask Lana, text me.”
I nodded, running my tongue over my teeth, still refusing to look at him.
His heavy footfalls signaled his departure, then the front door opened and closed with a bang a moment later.
A muscle in my jaw ticked. I glanced at the closed door. Beyond, I heard the engine of his truck start up with a growl, then grow faint as he drove away.
Damn him, anyway.
Why did he have to plant that seed?
The “L” word.
It wasn’t love. Just lust.
My body tightened, growing aroused at the memory of Lana rising and falling over me last night.
Really strong lust.
Because it couldn’t be love. I’d had my shot at that emotion, and she died. That sort of thing was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
Right?