Chapter 3
HUNTLEY
Only a few minutes pass after Oxley leaves the room that I realize… I have to pee! Like, my bladder is suddenly revolting and giving me stupid cramps. Determining that one of the doors must be a bathroom, I throw back the covers and begin to sit up.
It’s a chore. I’ve never had the best muscle mass, but trying to sit up without using my leg is rather difficult. As I struggle, I realize how pathetically weak my core is. I’m thankful I’m alone. I probably look like a dead fish as I struggle. How embarrassing.
Winded, I’m finally sitting up, but this new position pulls on my leg muscles, sending twinges of reminders over my hip and up my spine that this is probably not a good idea. I contemplate letting myself onto the floor and dragging my bum leg. How much will that hurt exactly?
I hate pain. I’m a huge wimp. Splinters make me cry. I’m emotionally rather strong; I didn’t even cry when Jack died in the frozen ocean as Rose just watched him—there was plenty of room for both of them on that door!
But pain? Yep, I’ll wail like a newborn.
Thankfully, before I pee myself, Oxley returns. I’m momentarily distracted when he hands me the plate—chicken, rice, toast, saltines, scrambled eggs, and what appears to be cooked carrots. “This is an interesting combination,” I say.
“I should have asked if you have allergies. Or whether there were foods you didn’t like.”
“No allergies, and I’m pretty easy to please as far as food goes. Just that this is an interesting mix.”
“I don’t have applesauce,” he says.
Raising my eyes to his, I try to figure out what that means and why it’s relevant.
I think he sees my confusion because he says, “Mark said bland foods are best with the pain meds. Anything too heavy could make you sick. This is what I had from that list, but I placed an order for delivery tomorrow.”
Ah. I pick up a piece of toast and take a bite. Plain. Dry. No flavor. “It needs butter,” I tell him.
Oxley shakes his head. “That’s not on the list.”
“You’re going to have to compromise, Ox. It needs flavor. I must have butter!”
“Oxley,” he says, almost reflexively, but I don’t let him say anymore.
“Never mind. We’ll get back to the butter. I really need to pee.”
His eyes widen behind his thin-framed glasses, and he looks around as if he’s just noticing his surroundings for the first time. Meanwhile, my bladder is seriously threatening to just let loose right here.
“I can find a bottle—” he says, taking my plate from me and setting it on the table beside the bed.
“NO!” I practically yell, horrified. “No. Just tell me where the bathroom is.”
“You can’t get up,” Oxley says with a frown.
“You’re not listening. I need to pee right now.
I’m getting up.” It’s only my determination that keeps me from reacting to the pull on my leg as I carefully swing both over the side of the bed.
It’s not exactly a scream of pain, but a dull throb.
My body certainly likes this position better than sitting with my legs straight out in front of me.
Clearly, I need to work on my flexibility.
“You can’t,” he says, and this time I can hear the stress in his voice. “Mark said—”
“Call Mark and let me talk to him.”
He doesn’t argue as he pulls his phone from his pants pocket.
No, they must be trousers. I think they’re far too sophisticated to be considered something as mundane as pants.
In fact, as I watch him bring the phone to his ear, he’s close enough to see that maybe everything he’s wearing is probably on the higher end of clothing.
Who is this guy?!
“He wants to get up and—”
“Give me the phone, Ox,” I demand, holding my hand out.
He presses his lips together and hands me the phone as he says, “Oxley.”
“Are you a doctor?” I say into the phone.
A receive a chuckle back. “I am.”
“Good. Tell this man I need to pee, and I can manage on my own. I’ve been peeing all by myself for more than twenty years, and I don’t need help now!”
I can hear his amusement when he speaks. “How does your leg feel?”
My gaze falls to it. I can’t see the wound. There aren’t even any red stains coming through the clean white bandage. “It’s fine.”
“How’s your pain level?”
“Mostly fine. Sitting up without the use of my leg served as a reminder that I need to get into better shape.”
Mark chuckles. “I didn’t staple your wounds, so there’s a chance you could pull the sutures if you’re not careful.
There’s a misconception that pain is a weakness, and you need to power through.
In reality, pain is your body’s way of telling you that something’s wrong.
The more painful, the louder the message it’s trying to send. ”
“Okay,” I say.
“Your pain receptors aren’t as responsive right now because of the drugs I put you on. You can pee on your own, but listen to what your body tells you. It’s okay to ask for help, especially if you want to heal without complications.”
I sigh. “All right, I get it.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I think maybe I lost the connection before he speaks again.
“Oxley is a good man,” he says quietly. “I don’t know why he brought you home, but you’re safe there.
He’ll take excellent care of you, probably more than you’d like.
He follows instructions exactly, and there isn’t any convincing him otherwise. But I can promise he’s a good guy.”
Raising my eyes to Oxley, I release a breath. I think I might have already figured that out. This man is a virtual stranger, and yet, I haven’t felt threatened by him at all. I do feel safe here. Even though I know nothing but his name.
“Okay.”
I hand the phone to Oxley and watch him respond. There’s a moment he wants to argue, but he ends up agreeing. He hangs up and pockets the phone. Then we stare at each other.
Holding out my hand, I ask, “Will you help me stand, Ox?”
“Oxley,” he says as he comes closer, taking my hand in his.
His grip is strong, sure. I lean nearly all my weight on him as I slide from the bed and land gently on my uninjured leg. Okay, this isn’t so bad. Gently placing my other leg on the floor so it’s resting, I think I can do this. Not bad at all.
Until I put pressure on that leg and the pain is immediate. My knees buckle, tears flood my eyes, and a choked sob-gasp combination comes out of my mouth.
I don’t hit the ground, though. Oxley catches me before I get close, and I’m pressed against his chest, trying to catch my breath. My lungs are filled with him, and it’s… dizzying. Swallowing the pain back down to its throbbing presence, I lift my eyes to meet his.
If he wants to gloat and tell me he told me so, I wouldn’t blame him. But the only thing I see in his eyes is concern. Maybe a touch of panic. His heart is beating wildly in his chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Oxley nods.
“Will you… help me into the bathroom?”
He nods again. I get situated on my good leg, putting all my weight there, and Oxley shifts around to pick me up like I weigh no more than a kitten. I flush, feeling rather small and maybe a little breathless from being held bridal style. But he doesn’t move as he stares beyond me.
Following his line of sight, I find he’s looking at the bag of dripping liquid and my heart monitor. “I got it,” I say and reach for it. It’s on wheels, so I lead it along in front of us.
The bathroom door is the second one in the room on the wall with the bed. As soon as we step inside, a light flickers on over the sink. It’s not bright, reminding me of a nightlight that turns on with motion.
Oxley sets me on my feet, and I shuffle, using the wall and sink to situate myself in front of the toilet. He hasn’t moved, and I twist to glare at him. “This is the part where I need you to wait outside, Ox.”
“Oxley,” he says reflexively, eyes narrowing. They travel down my body, and I’m very conscious of the fact that I’m not wearing pants. And hell, I’m not even wearing my own shirt! A shiver travels along my body as I think of this man changing my clothes.
“Outside the door, or you’re going to have a mess to clean up. I’m seriously this close to losing all bladder control.”
His mouth opens like he’s ready to argue, but instead, he turns and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. I expected that he’d leave the door cracked, but it shuts tightly with a click.
Normally, knowing that someone is on the other side of the door would mean I have some flow issues, but I have zero problems letting go today.
I’ve been holding it for a very long time, apparently.
Considering I’m not sure when I got here, what day it is, or anything else, I’m not entirely surprised that it got to this point.
I flush the toilet when I’m finished wiggling all the drips away and stuffing myself back in my underwear—they are mine, thankfully—and shuffle with minimal twinges to be in front of the sink.
While I wash my hands, I stare at the too-big shirt hanging off my shoulders and how thin I look. My skin looks sallow.
Maybe I’ve been here for a week. How much time have I lost?!
“Oxley?” I call.
The door opens, and he’s at my side before I’ve taken my next breath. My cheeks flush as he stares at me, trying to determine how much I’ve hurt myself. “Will you bring me back to bed?” I ask.
His shoulders relax. Once more, Oxley picks me up. He’s staring at me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Not because I’m embarrassed or even self-conscious. It’s the way he’s looking at me. Intensely. Like I’m the only one he sees.
He’s very careful when he gets me situated on the bed.
I try to remain sitting, but he gently leans me back onto the pillows and pulls the blankets up.
I’m about to protest that eating while prone could not only lead to choking and be super messy, but I get distracted when he starts rummaging through the drawer of the nightstand.
After a minute, he comes out with a remote. With a smile, he presses a button, and the head of the bed starts rising. I grin. “Nice!”
Oxley nods.
Once he has me in a proper sitting position, he sets the remote down and picks up the plate, but doesn’t bring it to me. “This is cold now,” he says.
“It’s fine.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll warm it.”
“Don’t forget the butter!”
His look is wary as he heads for the door, and I snuggle back into the bed. It’s so comfortable. Have I ever been in a bed so… soft? I’m on a firm cloud!
My eyes are starting to droop by the time Oxley returns and sets the plate in my lap. I can already see the butter and smile brightly as I pick up my now-buttered toast. The bite mark has magically disappeared.
“I reheated it all but made new toast, otherwise it would have been burnt,” he says. “Wait,” he says as I bring a cracker to my mouth. Oxley disappears back into the bathroom and returns with a towel, which he lays over my lap like a napkin. “Crumbs are uncomfortable in bed.”
I bow my head to hide my smile. It’s good. I don’t even care that there’s exactly zero flavor besides butter on anything. “You called Mark, didn’t you?” I ask, taking a bite of the carrots.
Oxley hangs his head a little, his eyes leaving mine. “Yes.”
I grin and don’t comment again for several minutes while I shovel in the food.
However, just as I’m about to pop the last cracker into my mouth, my stomach quite suddenly decides I’ve had enough.
It’s not a full sensation so much as a ‘feed me anything else and you’re going to be covered in vomit’ one.
I set the cracker down and look up at Oxley. He hasn’t moved from where he’s standing beside the bed. “I can’t eat anymore,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”
Oxley shakes his head. “You don’t need to. I just wanted to make sure you had enough.”
Honestly, I’m touched. He takes the plate from me, and I watch him set it aside.
“Do you need anything? Does your leg hurt? Are you cold? Tired?”
I sigh, leaning back into the pillow as a yawn escapes. “Tired. It hurts a little, but I think that’s because I was stubborn and tried to walk. I’m a little chilled too, yeah.”
The bed begins reclining again, and I watch Oxley watching me. As soon as I’m flat, he sets the remote down. “Do you need more blankets? I’ll get you more.”
He’s gone again before I can answer. I’m only slightly aware that he’s laying them on top of me, carefully tucking me in, mindful of the tube and wires, and right up to my chin. I sigh. A man could get used to this kind of attention.
“Mark says I can give you another dose of pain meds if you want.”
I nod. “Don’t drug me, Ox.”
“Oxley,” he says. “I’ll never drug you again. I’m so, so sorry.”
Sleep takes me quickly.