Chapter 4 Forced Recovery
Moving In
Finn had learned two important things about Declan Harlan during the past two weeks.
The first was that the mechanic hated asking for help.
The second was that he needed far more help than he was willing to admit.
Those two facts created problems.
Daily problems.
Exhausting problems.
Problems that consumed entire appointments.
Finn stood outside a hospital room reviewing discharge paperwork while trying not to sigh.
The paperwork itself wasn't complicated.
The patient attached to it certainly was.
A nurse passed him in the hallway.
"Everything ready?"
Finn glanced down at the stack of documents.
Medication schedules.
Therapy instructions.
Follow-up appointments.
Restrictions.
Safety precautions.
Everything necessary for a successful recovery.
On paper, the plan looked excellent.
Reality would be considerably more challenging.
"As ready as it's going to be."
The nurse laughed knowingly.
Everyone in the clinic had quickly become familiar with Deck.
Mostly because the mechanic treated every interaction like a personal inconvenience.
The nursing staff remained divided between wanting to help him and wanting to throw things at him.
Occasionally both.
Finn understood the feeling.
He pushed open the hospital room door.
Deck sat on the edge of the bed fully dressed for the first time since the explosion.
At least mostly dressed.
A dark T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders.
Worn jeans covered his long legs.
Heavy bandages still wrapped both hands.
His right arm remained supported by a brace.
Several bruises continued fading across visible skin.
He looked healthier.
Stronger.
Unfortunately, his expression suggested he was already irritated by something.
Possibly breathing.
"Good news."
Deck immediately looked suspicious.
Finn suppressed a smile.
"You get to go home."
The mechanic's relief appeared instantly.
Not dramatic.
Not obvious.
Just enough.
The reaction made sense.
Hospitals represented loss of control.
Loss of privacy.
Loss of independence.
Things Deck valued enormously.
"About time."
The grumble sounded almost cheerful by his standards.
Almost.
Finn handed over the discharge packet.
The mechanic stared at it.
Then at him.
Then back at the packet.
"Hell is this?"
"Instructions."
The answer earned a scowl.
Predictably.
"I know they're instructions."
Finn waited.
Several seconds passed.
Eventually Deck lifted the paperwork slightly.
"Why are there so many?"
The doctor considered that.
Fair question.
"There are seventy-three pages."
The mechanic looked horrified.
The reaction nearly made Finn laugh.
"Seventy-three?"
"Technically seventy-two."
"That's not better."
"No."
The admission seemed fair.
Deck flipped through several pages.
Growing increasingly offended.
The sight proved oddly entertaining.
Finn shouldn't enjoy annoying patients.
Probably.
The mechanic finally tossed the packet aside.
"Not reading all that."
"That's unfortunate."
Deck narrowed his eyes.
The doctor smiled politely.
"Because you're supposed to."
Another glare followed.
Finn had grown surprisingly accustomed to those.
The silence stretched comfortably.
At least for him.
Eventually the doctor reviewed final instructions.
Medication.
Appointments.
Physical restrictions.
Recovery expectations.
Deck listened.
Mostly.
The mechanic paid attention whenever the information involved returning to work.
Everything else seemed considerably less important.
Unfortunately, returning to work remained months away.
The reality visibly frustrated him.
Every single time.
Finn understood why.
It didn't make the situation easier.
The conversation ended with predictable resistance.
"No."
The word interrupted a discussion about home assistance.
Finn sighed.
"We've talked about this."
"Doesn't change the answer."
The mechanic folded his arms.
Carefully.
Protectively.
A defensive posture.
One Finn had become familiar with.
"I can manage."
The statement sounded confident.
Convincing.
Completely inaccurate.
The doctor opened the file again.
Reviewing notes.
Mostly because facts worked better than opinions.
"You can't drive."
Deck frowned.
"I know."
"You can't lift anything heavier than ten pounds."
"I know."
"You can't use either hand properly."
The silence that followed proved telling.
Finn continued anyway.
"You need daily wound care."
Another silence.
"Physical therapy."
Silence.
"Occupational therapy."
More silence.
The doctor closed the file.
"Monitoring."
Deck looked away.
Toward the window.
Toward freedom.
Toward anything except reality.
"I'll figure it out."
The answer arrived quietly.
Not angry this time.
Something else.
Something closer to desperation.
Finn recognized it immediately.
The mechanic wanted control.
Any control.
Even the illusion of it.
The realization softened his frustration.
Slightly.
Not enough to change facts.
The door opened before either man could continue arguing.
Kane Whitaker entered first.
Elias Laurent followed seconds later.
The contrast between them remained startling.
Even now.
Riot looked exactly like the rumors described.
Massive.
Tattooed.
Intimidating.
Elias looked calm and elegant beside him.
Polished where Kane was rough.
Soft where Kane was sharp.
Yet somehow they fit together perfectly.
The sight still fascinated Finn.
The couple immediately noticed the tension.
Apparently it filled the room.
Elias smiled knowingly.
"How bad?"
"He's being unreasonable."
Finn answered instantly.
Deck pointed at him.
"See?"
The doctor blinked.
"What?"
"You answered too fast."
Riot snorted.
Elias laughed.
The mechanic looked betrayed.
The entire exchange felt surprisingly normal.
Comfortable.
Like family.
The observation caught Finn off guard.
The couple settled into nearby chairs.
Deck immediately looked wary.
A sensible reaction.
Because Kane Whitaker rarely appeared unless he wanted something.
"What's going on?"
The mechanic directed the question toward Riot.
The older man shrugged.
"Thought we'd check on you."
Deck looked suspicious.
Correctly.
Nobody believed that.
Especially not Deck.
The silence stretched.
Eventually Elias folded his arms.
"You need help."
There it was.
The real conversation.
Deck groaned immediately.
The doctor almost sympathized.
Almost.
"I knew this was coming."
Kane leaned back in his chair.
Looking entirely too relaxed.
"Good."
The mechanic glared.
Riot looked unimpressed.
The dynamic clearly wasn't new.
Finn found himself watching despite best intentions.
The friendship fascinated him.
Because beneath the insults and arguments existed genuine affection.
The kind most people spent years searching for.
The realization lingered unexpectedly.
Elias turned toward Finn.
"How often does he need monitoring?"
The question shifted the discussion back toward practical concerns.
The doctor answered honestly.
"Daily."
Deck muttered something.
Nobody acknowledged it.
Finn continued.
"Wound care."
"Therapy."
"Medication management."
"Recovery assessments."
The list grew longer.
The mechanic looked increasingly unhappy.
The couple looked increasingly concerned.
A predictable outcome.
The conversation continued for nearly twenty minutes.
Most of it involved logistics.
Transportation.
Appointments.
Support systems.
Home care.
Every solution created additional problems.
The biggest issue remained simple.
Deck lived alone.
His farmhouse sat nearly twenty minutes outside town.
The property was isolated.
Private.
Difficult.
The setup worked perfectly for a healthy man.
Not so much for an injured one.
Eventually silence settled over the room.
Everyone thinking.
Calculating.
Searching for answers.
The solution arrived unexpectedly.
At least for Finn.
Apparently everyone else reached the conclusion much earlier.
Riot looked toward Elias.
Elias looked toward Riot.
The married couple exchange.
Finn recognized it immediately.
The look that said a conversation had already occurred.
And everyone else was about to suffer because of it.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Kane finally turned toward him.
"Question."
Finn immediately became suspicious.
"What?"
The mechanic pointed.
Directly at him.
The suspicion intensified.
"What?"
Riot looked entirely too casual.
"How attached are you to your apartment?"
Silence followed.
Several long seconds.
Finn blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"I'm sorry?"
Elias smiled.
The kind smile.
The dangerous smile.
The one hiding plans.
"We have an idea."
The doctor looked between them.
Then toward Deck.
The mechanic suddenly looked alarmed.
Genuinely alarmed.
Which seemed like a bad sign.
A very bad sign.
"What idea?"
Nobody answered immediately.
Another warning sign.
Finally Riot spoke.
"Temporary arrangement."
Finn already disliked where this was heading.
The feeling intensified rapidly.
The older mechanic continued.
"Recovery's gonna be a nightmare."
Deck opened his mouth.
Probably to argue.
Riot ignored him.
"Someone needs to make sure he follows instructions."
The silence deepened.
Finn slowly realized exactly where the conversation was heading.
The realization horrified him.
"No."
Three people looked at him.
The answer had arrived too quickly.
Much too quickly.
Elias smiled sympathetically.
"Just hear us out."
Finn absolutely did not want to hear them out.
Unfortunately, everyone else appeared committed to the idea.
Including, judging by his expression, a deeply horrified Declan Harlan.
And for the first time since arriving in Willow Ridge, Finn found himself seriously questioning the judgment of every person in the room.
Humiliation
Deck had spent most of his adult life living alone.
It suited him.