Chapter 10
TEN
MAX
I wheeled Bailey through the front door, since it was the wheelchair-accessible exit, and wondered what possessed me to insist that she come home with me when I knew she’d be fine with Asher and Summer.
For all my argument that being a doctor made me the best positioned to care for her, Asher would have done well enough with his paramedic training.
Bailey might not realize that, but I suspected that Summer did, which meant that I’d be facing an inquisition at some point.
Hopefully she just thought I was being overly concerned about a patient.
“I could have walked,” Bailey said as I locked the door behind us.
“Short distances are fine, but we don’t want to overtax you before you’re ready,” I replied as I wheeled her down the ramp to my waiting minivan. I pressed the fob to unlock the van and opened the passenger door. “Put your arms around my neck.”
“Max, I can—” She cut off mid-protest when I lifted her out of the wheelchair and onto the passenger seat.
I smirked to myself but kept my face angled away so she wouldn’t see it. While I wasn’t as strong as most of my siblings, I was used to lifting people, and I was no slouch.
“Um, you made that seem easy,” she said, wide-eyed as she fumbled with the seatbelt.
I shrugged. “You’re not that heavy.” Compared to some of my patients, she was a featherweight. “Are you okay?”
Her expression turned thoughtful as she evaluated herself. “Yeah. I don’t think the painkillers have worn off fully yet.”
“Good. We’ll give you some more soon. You’ll need them for the next few days at least.”
I maneuvered the wheelchair into the back. She probably wouldn’t need it after tonight, but it would be best to have it just in case.
I drove to her cottage and parked out the front. To my relief, Bailey didn’t argue about the wheelchair or about me lifting her into it. Instead, she just wrapped her arms around me, looked up at me with big, trusting eyes, and let me move her around as necessary.
My heart felt twice its usual size, but it gave a pang as my gaze lingered on the dark circles around those eyes and the smudges all over her face. I wheeled her to the door, took the key—which we’d taken from her backpack earlier—and let us in.
She insisted on getting out of the wheelchair to help pack her bag, although I suspected that was mostly because she was embarrassed by the idea of me pawing through her dresser.
A faint herbal scent hung in the air. It was strongest in the bathroom, and I couldn’t help wondering if it was from her soap or shampoo.
When she was done, I drove her back to my place, only a block or so from the medical center. I loaded her back into the wheelchair, slung her bag over my shoulder, and wheeled her up the ramp to the twin sliding doors.
“I can walk from here,” she said as I’d been about to lever the front of the wheelchair over the lip in the doorway.
“I don’t mind wheeling you.”
She looked over her shoulder at me. “I think moving a little bit will be good for me.”
Ugh, she was right, but I hated the way her face twisted in pain as she used the chair’s armrests to push herself onto her feet. I hated that she was in pain at all. I wished I could take it away from her entirely.
As she hobbled to the entrance, I moved past her, leaving the wheelchair where it was. I’d return for it later.
“Through here is the living area.” I gestured to the doorway with one hand and waited for her to limp inside, clinging to the doorframe for support. “The bedrooms are off the hall over there.”
She released the doorframe and grabbed onto my arm. “It’s cozy.”
I steadied her and assisted her across the carpet and down the short hall. “My bedroom and one of the spare rooms are to the right. The bathroom and another spare room are to the left.”
“Which should I take?” she asked, pausing uncertainly.
“The one immediately opposite me, I think. It’ll be faster for me to get to you if you need help.”
“Sure. Makes sense.”
I helped her into the room and placed her bag on the bed, and then I took my phone from my pocket and offered it to her. “You can use this to order a replacement for your phone if you’d like. I should have thought of it earlier.”
She took it from me with a faint smile. “Thanks. I’m used to checking my social media metrics a few times a day, so it’s been strange not doing that today.”
That also hadn’t occurred to me. While she might work part time at Drunken Destiny, most of her income came from her influencer career, so of course it would make her anxious to not have eyes on her social media.
“Feel free to log into your accounts on my phone so you can check them now,” I said, hoping that would help ease her mind. “Just log me out first. I hardly use them, so it won’t bother me.”
This time, her smile reached her eyes. The crinkles in the corners were visible despite her puffy cheeks. “Thank you, Max.”
A bolt of something warm and tempting shot through me, and I cleared my throat. “No problem.”
I helped her steady herself and then hurried outside to pack the wheelchair away. The last thing Bailey needed was to get any hint of my inappropriate feelings for her while she was under my roof. It might make her uncomfortable and risk her leaving.
I locked the front door. I wouldn’t usually bother, but Bailey’s attack made me wary.
That done, I washed my hands and checked the fridge for dinner supplies.
Bailey’s appetite would probably be low right now, and I doubted she’d want to eat anything too flavorsome or hearty, so I decided on steamed vegetables with scrambled eggs and started on the preparations.
“Can I help?”
I glanced up. Bailey was hovering in the entrance to the kitchen, my phone in one hand while the other was resting on the counter to support her weight.
“I’ve got it under control. Just relax and do whatever you need to on my phone,” I said.
“Okay, thanks.” She made her way back into the living room and lowered herself onto an armchair. I couldn’t help being a little grateful that she was too sore to explore properly, even though I knew that made me a terrible person.
But if she looked around, she’d see all of the books and board games and realize just how nerdy and boring I really was in comparison to her or the rest of my siblings.
I did like having her in my space, though. And cooking for her like this, with just the two of us here, was an experience I never thought I’d get.
Once dinner was ready, I carried our plates out to the living room, and we ate together.
She returned my phone and told me about the replacement phone she’d ordered and why she’d chosen it.
Apparently, there was a lot more that went into her choice than whether or not it could send messages, make calls, and had functional internet.
I worried she might need help showering, but she managed on her own while I tidied away the dishes. When she emerged, her movements were a little looser, and a haze of herbal-scented steam followed her.
Her teeth scraped over her lower lip. “Do you mind if I keep the doors between our bedrooms open overnight?”
“Not at all.” My heart squeezed at her hesitancy to ask for something so minor. “Whatever makes you feel safe.”
I studied her for a moment, cataloguing the dark smudges around her eyes, how bloodshot they were, and the way she didn’t seem to know what to do with herself.
Perhaps it would help if we shared a room. Sometimes just being able to hear another person breathe and move around took the edge off silence. But there was also a possibility that having a man so close would only make it worse, so I kept my mouth shut and hoped I wasn’t doing the wrong thing.