Chapter 13 Huntley
HUNTLEY
I’d mentioned needing to begin PT for several days. Mostly because I didn’t want to lose my job. I still don’t want to lose my job. I know legally my job is safe. I’ve gone through the proper channels and filled out the required paperwork to be out of work while I heal.
My boss’ sudden change of heart is… disturbing. I don’t trust it. It did not put me at ease. If anything, it has me more worried. All I can think is that he’s up to something. He’s found a way to get rid of me, and in the meantime, he’s giving me a false sense of hope.
Oxley says I should take it at face value. Some people genuinely have a change of heart. Maybe something happened that made him realize he was being a dick. Perhaps he had a visit with karma.
I don’t know what to think about it, but when Mark decided I was ready for PT, I readily agreed. That was three days ago, and I hurt.
I’m sitting on the floor in Oxley’s living room, my leg throbbing and tears threatening to fill my eyes. It’s the kind of pain that’s deep inside. You can’t reach it to rub it out or touch it with heat.
The pain is frustrating. Mark explained that the way the bullet tore through my leg is going to take some time. PT isn’t just to regain my strength but to retrain damaged muscles. Yes, it’s going to hurt.
When Mark and Oxley come back into the room, I’m ready to accept not walking for the rest of my life again if it means the pain stops. Mark has been here for the past couple of days, and each day he brings a new torture device.
Uh, I mean, new tools to help with my healing. I like Mark. He’s a good guy and a good doctor, but I still scowl when I see him walk back into the room.
He chuckles. “Ready to try again?”
“No,” I say, pouting. “I think I’ve had enough today. I’d rather be bedridden.”
He’s amused. He’s always amused.
Mark is young. I’d be shocked if he were in his thirties.
He has a very chill demeanor and the kind of aura that instantly puts you at ease.
Because of that, I imagine he excels in medicine.
The ability to put your patient at ease is huge, especially when they’re in pain and maybe scared. I’ve been both of those things.
He offers me his hands to pull me to my feet.
I debate acting like I’m three and refusing to reach out.
The only thing that has me getting to my feet is that I really don’t want to never walk again.
That sounds miserable. As much as I love Oxley waiting on me and carrying me all over the apartment, I don’t want to be apartment-bound for the rest of my life.
I want to walk in the park and climb stairs and do fun things. I want to reach the cabinets over the fridge on my own. I want to be able to crouch down and get back up on my own.
There are things I’ve taken for granted that walking allows me the freedom to do. Even just taking a shower is a challenge. Moving from the toilet to the sink and then to the door. It’s all exhausting.
Pressing my lips together, I place my hands in Mark’s and allow him to pull me to my feet. I was under the false impression that this would be easy. I was getting around on my crutches just fine. As it turns out, I didn’t put any weight on my leg at all. The crutches took up that burden.
“Let’s try something else for a while,” Mark says. “Come sit here.”
The chair is maybe three feet from me, but it feels like it’s a mile. Taking a breath, I put my weight on my uninjured leg so I can step forward with my hurt one. When I transfer my weight to take the step, my breath punches from my lungs.
My fall into the chair is just that. I fall. Oxley dives for me, but I don’t fall out of the chair. “I’m fine,” I assure him, even as my leg pulses and tears sting my eyes. “I did that on purpose.”
Mark chuckles, shaking his head. He has a long, stretchy rubber band in his hands, and I watch as he secures it to the legs of the chair, hooking it over my ankle.
“Have you been to the gym before?” Mark asks.
I give him a shrewd look, which makes him laugh.
“I’m asking so I know if you’re familiar with the leg machines. This isn’t a comment on your physique, Huntley.”
I humph and then nod. “Once or twice.” That’s the truth of it. I like immediate results, and the gym takes far too long.
He places a hand on my knee, gently keeping my thigh on the chair, and then instructs me to kick my leg up slowly. His other hand rests on the back of my heel to guide me up slowly. It fucking hurts.
“That’s it. Let’s begin small. Just eight inches or so.
No need to fully extend right now. We’ll work up to that.
Very good, Huntley. Don’t release your leg quickly.
Control the fall back. Better. Make sure you keep this leg touching the chair.
” He removes his hands and watches my leg as I struggle to push up.
I’m shaking by the time I get through ten. “I hate everything about this,” I mutter.
“I know. You’re doing great,” Mark says.
“I’m going to dread your visits,” I mutter.
He smiles. “I know.”
We alternate between these leg lifts and taking a few steps for the next twenty minutes before Mark decides I’ve done enough for the day. He’ll be back tomorrow. I’m already scowling at him, but he smiles kindly all the same. I’m sure he’s used to being scowled at.
Oxley walks him out while I lie back on the couch, trying to catch my breath. I don’t go to the gym, but I do stretch every morning and every evening. Stretching is really good for your body. Needless to say, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten some good stretches in.
I crave it. Now that I’m moving around a little, my body screams for the familiar sting of a good stretch. Except I’m a little afraid to do them now. Movements I wouldn’t have thought might cause my injury some pain do, and now I’m afraid to breathe.
This sucks. I hope the guy who shot me is dead. Is that too much to ask?
Oxley returns from the hall and watches me for a minute. I look up, feeling exhausted. “The guy who shot me—has someone found him yet?”
He shakes his head. “They’re working on it. They have been identifying some people they’re associated with, but the person who shot you specifically hasn’t been identified.”
My shoulders fall.
“You’re safe,” Oxley says. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
His words comfort me. I nod. “That’s not why I’m asking. I’d like him to be shot. You know: the old eye for an eye rule.”
Oxley nods. “Understood.”
A yawn overcomes me. Without fail, I’m exhausted when Mark leaves. My eyes land on my crutches across the room, and a weight settles over me. Why couldn’t I have crashed closer to them?
“How about we try some motivation?” Oxley suggests.
I raise my eyebrow at him. “What does that mean?”
“If you walk across the room to me, I’ll give you an orgasm any way you want.”
Instantly, my body feels hot. I’m not convinced he wouldn’t do that anyway, but hearing the words out loud gives a little more of a thrill to the idea.
“Any way I want?” I repeat.
“Any way you want,” Oxley confirms.
“Think you can move a little closer?”
He smiles. “No. From there to here.”
“That’s the entire room,” I complain.
“I know. You can do it, Huntley.”
A bubble of doubt settles in my chest. “What if I can’t?” I whisper.
“You can,” Oxley insists. “You’re so much stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
I shake my head. “I’m not. I complain about the pain all the time.”
“You still push through every exercise Mark gives you, painful or not. You haven’t once given up or quit. You can complain all you want, but that doesn’t stop you from pushing through.”
Guess I never looked at it that way. I get to my feet using only one leg, which has become easier.
As I looked at myself in the mirror yesterday morning, I realized my legs were going to be two different sizes.
Since I’m using one leg far more than the other, it’s going to be thick with muscle.
The other is going to be nothing more than a chicken leg.
Taking a breath, I step forward, and the burn from my leg sears through me. By the time I’ve taken three steps and am in the middle of the room, I’m questioning how badly I actually want an orgasm. It’s not like I can’t just jerk myself. I’ve done it many times before. Too many to count.
“Come here, Huntley,” Oxley says. There’s something sexy about the low tone of his voice when he says my name. It shivers through me with anticipation, and despite the way my leg aches, my cock decides it’s already been too long since we’ve gotten attention and is beginning to perk up.
Gritting my teeth, I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Oxley lurches forward when I nearly fall over. I’m not sure what it was about that particular step, but the twinge of pain was intense, making my knee buckle.
Oxley catches me before I hit the ground. As soon as I catch my breath and balance, I shove him away. “Go back over there, Ox,” I demand.
“Oxley,” he corrects as he walks backwards, eyes never leaving me.
It took him two strides to return to where he’d been standing just inside the living room. It’ll take me five of these shuffling steps. For a minute, I take several breaths to psych myself up. I can do this.
I struggle with every step. Each feels a little more difficult. More taxing. I’m ready to fall over by the time I reach Oxley. I’m thankful when he takes the weight from my legs entirely, and I allow myself to settle into his arms.
“I knew you could do it,” Oxley says, kissing the side of my head.
“I’m glad one of us did.”
“Does that mean you really want an orgasm? You fought hard and were determined to get to me.”
“Yes. I want you to fuck me face down, right here.”
Oxley shivers. I wonder if he’s actually going to agree to that. I don’t know if it’s obsessive-compulsive disorder or something else, but there are some things that he’s very rigid on and doesn’t like to deviate from how it’s supposed to be done.
“You did say an orgasm however I want it,” I point out. I don’t actually care if he brings me back to the bed. I’m so tired, I’ll likely pass out right after anyway.
He picks me up and sets me on the couch. “Hold on.”
I’m surprised when he leaves the room and returns with towels, a pillow, and lube. He pulls the mat that Mark brought over for me to use during PT and sets it in the middle of the room, away from everything. He then covers it with towels and sets the pillow at the end.
The grin won’t fade as he pulls me to my feet and strips me down before situating me on the mat on my knees, face in the pillow, and ass in the air.
I expect this man to be gentle, but he fucks me like a damn stallion. As predicted, I pass out as soon as we orgasm.