11. Peter
11
Peter
I drove myself to the clinic this morning. It was the first time I’d gotten behind the wheel in almost a year. Such a simple thing I’d taken for granted, and after all this time, the once familiar action felt foreign. The entire drive, I was hyper aware of traffic around me, of the way my body felt with my foot on the pedal, my palms slick with sweat on the wheel.
I told myself that it needed to happen. That my surgeon had given me the go-ahead to resume a broader range of motion. I was getting better every day—but that didn’t mean I was 100%. Bending down to touch my toes sent a searing fire down my spine that took an hour to recover from. And my body…
Scars and all, my body was not yet recognizable as mine. Chalmers had been pushing for me to see the bureau shrink, so maybe that was something I could talk to them about… if I could ever bring myself to go.
Pulling up in the clinic parking lot, I peeled my hands off the steering wheel, knuckles screaming from the chokehold I’d had on it the entire drive. I turned off the engine and yanked the key out of the ignition, blowing out a breath as I willed my heart to steady. I should’ve been excited to take a step back toward “normal,” but honestly, I was shit scared.
I’m not ready…
Knowing that Casey was inside waiting for me, though, was enough to jolt me into action. I carefully maneuvered my way out of the truck, each movement measured and tender. I had a feeling Casey wouldn’t go so easy on me, though. He always pushed me harder than I’d ever pushed myself, even before the injury.
I was playing with fire today, using nothing but a cane to limp up the ramp to the automatic doors. I knew better than to risk taking the stairs. He was waiting at the front desk for me, chatting with their receptionist. He looked up when the door opened, and the smile he gave me warmed my chest and eased my tight nerves. It was hard to imagine now how I’d resented him when he first showed up at the hospital, coaxing those first steps out of me.
“Hey, there you are,” he said. “Hope you’re ready to work.”
“Always.” For you , I thought though didn’t voice out loud. I knew logically that it wasn’t healthy to pin my whole recovery on this one man, but try telling my heart that. He wasn’t mine, not really. Not today, and maybe not even in the future. He might be gone from my life tomorrow, and there was a good chance I would crash if that happened. But, on the other hand, if it got me through my recovery, wasn’t the risk worth it?
“What have you got planned for me today?” I asked, following behind him down the hall toward the changeroom.
His grin turned a little maniacal. “Oh, you know, just some light stretching, maybe a gentle bike ride.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Light and gentle are two words I would never associate with you, angel.”
“Only because I know how you like it,” he teased, before his blush turned his cheeks a beautiful rose color. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, his brows drawing down in a worried frown as he looked around to see if anyone overheard.
I loved it when his professional boundaries slipped a little, but I wouldn’t give him a hard time about it. Instead, I turned and pushed through the door into the changeroom. “See you in a few minutes. Don’t start without me.” I gave him a quick wink before he disappeared from sight, shaking his head with a smile.
Sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes, and I wiped at the sting with my forearm. When the hell will I learn to keep my mouth shut?
Casey had started off with some range-of-motion stretches, loosening up my hips and lower back, then moved on to some work with resistance bands. I was feeling no pain, so I let myself get cocky. “Is that all you’ve got?” I’d said, goading him.
Casey had taken it as a personal challenge to take me down a peg and got me set up on the exercise bike. He was standing directly in front of the handlebars, eyes focused on mine. Every few minutes, he would reach down and turn the dial, adding another level of resistance.
“What was that?” he asked, cupping his ear. “I can’t hear you past your wheezing. Did you say you give up?”
I tried to laugh, but it came out as a sputter. Because yeah, I was wheezing. I used to run marathons for fun, and now a little bit of cycling was reducing me to a mess of my most basic components: sweat and pain.
“Come on, you can do two more minutes. You got this.” I wasn’t sure I did have this, but I wanted so desperately to make him proud of me. I wanted to hoard his beaming smiles and keep them all for myself to pull out on the bad days. So I dug deep, even as alarms blared in my head, past a barrier inside myself that said whoa, whoa, WHOA! “Give me all you’ve got,” he coaxed, but then he reached down and turned that damn dial one more notch, and everything came to a screeching halt.
I thought I was going to die. I let out a pained shout before I could contain it as a muscle in my hip seized, clamping down on the joint and making my foot slip straight off the bike’s pedal. My other leg kept moving with the momentum, and as I tipped sideways on the seat, my calf got scraped up on the side of the machine, no doubt drawing blood. But before I could hit the ground, Casey was there. He wrapped his strong arms around me, cushioning my fall with his own body as he brought us gently to the floor.
“I’ve got you. I’m here.” His voice was soothing, his breath cooling my overheated flesh. “Where does it hurt?” His hands were on me, checking for injuries, and I wished nothing more than that I could enjoy the contact.
“My hip,” I got out through gritted teeth. You’d think by now I would be more accustomed to pain, that I would toughen up and get over it. But every single time, all it did was remind me of how unbearably mortal I was, how close to death I’d come…
Behind the initial pain came a wave of shame and embarrassment. I’d been doing so well, but it was all an illusion. What if I’d just done more damage by pushing myself too hard? Would I need more surgery, yet more time added to my recovery? I groaned, turning my head to bury my face against Casey’s chest.
“Here, let me,” he said, angling me onto my side, then I felt his fingers probing around my hip.
I flinched when he found the exact spot where the pain was centered. “There!” I added unnecessarily. I was pretty sure he could’ve figured that out on his own.
Casey was gentle with me, kneading his thumb into the knotted muscle, and ever so slowly, the pain began to ebb. I sighed in relief, sagging into his arms. “Slow movements,” he suggested, urging me to tilt my leg, stretching it out.
The easier it got to move, the more I found myself leaning into him. I breathed in his clean vanilla scent, reveling in the heat of his palm as he followed my leg down to my knee. And when he moved back up my thigh, his hand slipped under the hem of my shorts.
He froze when he realized what he’d done, his breath catching. I already knew he was going to pull away, but I didn’t want him to. Having his hands on my body this way was different than usual, cutting through the din inside my head. There was nothing clinical about the way he massaged, his thumb running along my inner thigh, inching higher. Gods, I wanted him. It seemed such an impossible thing. I hadn’t even thought about love or sex or relationships since well before the incident. The job was always more important. But I wanted Casey, more than I could remember wanting anything before.
I tilted my head to look up at him, bringing our lips close. It would be so easy to tip myself up, to take the kiss I so desperately wanted. Casey looked down at me, and I swore he felt it too. He brought his hand up my body, over my abs, my chest, to cradle my jaw. “Peter…” he whispered.
There were voices heading down the hall toward the gym, and it broke the spell. Whatever I’d thought was going to happen was wrenched away as Casey gasped, jerking his hand back. It was like a bucket of ice water being dumped over us.
As quickly as he could without hurting me, Casey rushed to get out from under me. “Can you stand?” he asked tightly.
“Yes, but—” There was nothing else to say. His eyes were shuttered, closing him off. I took his hand, and he helped me to stand, but he still refused to look at me.
“You’re okay?” he asked, and I nodded. “Good. Then we’re done for the day.”
“No, Casey,” I rushed to say. “I’m okay to keep going.” I reached for him, but he stepped back, his body language very clearly telling me the contact was unwelcome.
“No,” he said firmly, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he ground his teeth. “Go home, Peter.”
And now, instead of the pride I was hoping to earn from him, I saw frustration in Casey’s eyes. Disappointment.
“Right. Sure. Okay.” I’d thought he felt it too, but I’d clearly been wrong. I wasn’t worthy of someone like Casey. He was special, and I was… broken.
Grabbing my cane, I didn’t even bother to shower or change. I just wanted to get home, somewhere I could be alone. My whole body was screaming at me as I stumbled past the reception desk and out the door. I was halfway to my truck before I realized I didn’t have my keys, and I nearly sobbed at the thought of having to go back for them. Gods, I couldn’t face Casey. Thankfully, the receptionist seemed to recognize that I was struggling, and she’d followed me out. “Can I call you a ride, Mr. Brown?”
My throat was too tight for words, so I nodded, grateful to catch a break. When the car showed up, I collapsed into the back seat and let myself sink into a familiar fog.
I barely remembered getting home. I had to get down on my knees to fish the spare key out of the lockbox tucked in a corner of my porch, but I soon found myself standing in my kitchen, holding the bottle of painkillers in a shaking hand. “I’m too weak,” I whispered into the silence of my empty house. And not just my body…
I shook a few pills into my palm, staring down at the innocuous little tablets. Yes, I was in pain, and these would bring some relief, but in the end, they also felt like a symbol for all my failures. I was too weak to handle a little bit of pain, too selfish to choose sobriety. All the emotions swirling through me just made me want the pills even more so I could forget. I was locked in this awful cycle with no way out.
My hip gave another spasm, and I jerked, dropping the pills. “Fuck,” I cursed, reflexively reaching to catch them. My balance tipping, I dropped to my knees hard, the hard tile sending a jolt through me. Groaning, I lay down on the floor because it was easier than trying to get back up. My eyes burned, and a broken sob wrenched its way out of me. Hot tears of frustration dripped down my cheek and onto the floor, tears of hopelessness, self-pity, and depression. At least I still had my pills…
I picked one up off the floor and swallowed it dry, the tablet’s bitter taste lingering on my tongue. And now my tears burned with regret.