Chapter 28 Maya
MAYA
Ihad been on this couch for three days, and I was losing my fucking mind.
Not slowly, either. Not in the gentle, gradual way people talked about when they said things like “cabin fever” with a knowing smile. This was rapid-onset, climbing-the walls, seriously-considering-whether-I-could-army-crawl-to-the-front-door-without-Mom-noticing insanity.
“Sweetheart, the doctor said to take these every four hours, and it’s been five.”
Mom stood over me with a glass of water in one hand and two white tablets in the other.
Her expression was setting off alarm bells in my head.
It was the same face she’d used when she’d insisted Nate stay at the house instead of the hotel.
The same face that had organized every school fundraiser, church potluck, and neighborhood party in Esperance for the past thirty years.
“I don’t like taking them, Mom.”
“I know you don’t, but you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine. I’m in a normal amount of pain for someone who got thrown off a quad bike by a tree.”
“There is no normal amount of pain for that sentence, Maya Rose.”
Oh, the full name. Shit was getting real serious. I’d just begun formulating my next argument when a knock at the door cut through the standoff.
Mom straightened, shot me a look that said this isn’t over, and headed for the front door.
The low rumble of a voice that made my stomach flip floated on the air. Mom’s tone shifted from battlefield commander to pure warmth.
“Nate, honey. Come in. Oh, aren’t those gorgeous.”
I craned my neck, pulse picking up. Nate filled the entry, holding a bunch of flowers so big it was almost comical against the sheer size of him.
“How’s the patient?”
“Stubborn,” Mom waved a hand in my direction. “I’ve been trying to get her to take her pain medication for the last fifteen minutes, but she’s decided that she knows better than the doctor, the pharmacist, and her own mother.”
Nate’s gaze dropped to the two tablets sitting on the side table, then back to me.
“Take your meds, Slayer.”
“I don’t need—”
“Well, I’m not taking you for a drive if you haven’t, so dealer’s choice.”
Holy fuck. A drive. Outside. Fresh air and movement and something other than this couch and these four walls and Mom’s well-meaning hovering.
Holding his gaze, I reached for the water and the tablets, swallowing both without blinking.
His mouth twitched.
I shoved the blanket off my legs and grabbed the arm of the sofa, shifting my weight onto my good foot, ready to stand. Pain spiked up my left side, but I clamped my jaw shut, refusing to let a single wince show on my face.
Nate thrust the flowers at Mom, who hastily took them. “Maya, for the love of God, would you just wait for someone to help you before you—”
Too late. I was already halfway vertical, one hand braced on the cushion, the other gripping the armrest, my injured ankle hovering above the floor at an angle that was optimistic at best. The room tilted slightly. Fine. Totally fine.
Nate crossed the space in two strides, his hand catching my elbow. “Jesus, take it easy.”
“I am taking it easy. This is my easy.”
“Your easy looks a lot like a woman about to face-plant on the rug.”
“It’s hardwood, actually.”
“Even worse.”
Mom grabbed the crutches from where they’d been leaning against the wall and held them out to me, flowers still clutched in her other hand.
I took them. Grudgingly. “I hate these things.”
“They’re crutches, not a prison sentence,” Mom said.
“Same energy.”
Nate folded his arms and watched me wedge them under my armpits with all the grace of a baby giraffe learning to walk. “It’s either the crutches or I carry you.”
I looked him dead in the eye. My hands opened. Both crutches clattered to the hardwood.
His eyes lit up, and he pressed his lips together, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he fought back a laugh. He stepped forward and scooped me up, careful and gentle, like I was infinitely precious. Sigh.
My arm went around his neck as I dragged in a breath. He was so solid, and he smelled of clean cotton and something woodsy that made me want to press my face into his neck and stay there. I resisted. Barely.
He turned to Mom. “Anything I need to know before I take her?”
“Only that she’s a giant pain in the ass.” The smile that crossed Mom’s face made me deeply nervous about what she’d be texting her book club later.
“Already clocked that one, Nancy.”
“Hey.” I smacked his shoulder. Neither of them acknowledged it.
Mom held the front door open, flowers and all, and Nate carried me out into the sunshine.
He got the passenger door of his truck open without putting me down, which was a feat of coordination I chose not to question, and lowered me into the seat with the same sweet gentleness he’d used at the hut.
His hands lingered a second longer than necessary before he reached across me and buckled the seatbelt, his face close enough that I could count the flecks of silver in his stubble.
Then he straightened up, shut the door, and rounded the hood.
The engine turned over and he pulled out of the driveway, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console between us.
“So.” I shifted in my seat, angling toward him. “Where are we going?”
He checked his mirror, completely casual. “I know a really great make out spot on the river.”