looked toward the front of my house. “Your roommate’s home, right? I want to go over the discharge instructions with her.”
I reached for my seat belt. “No, she’s not in town. She had to go home for a funeral.”
Not a muscle in his face moved, but his voice was heavy with incredulity. “You lied to the discharging nurse.”
“Not technically.” I pulled up farther into a sitting position, wincing at the pull across my lower back. “My best friend does live with me, in the other half of the house. She just happens to be out of town right now.”
“Someone has to be here for you. You can’t get around on that foot. You’ve got meds to get take, to get filled at the pharmacy. You have to take your temperature and go back to the ER if you have a fever.”
“I’ll be fine.” Okay, I hadn’t thought as far as filling my prescription for the pain meds and antibiotics. I also needed to get a thermometer.
Maybe I’d call Walker.
He watched me, and I swore I saw the moment when a decision clicked into place. “Let’s get you inside.”
“If you wouldn’t mind handing me the crutches from the back—”
“Listen to me. We need to get inside, up the front stairs. Now, I can get the crutches from the back and you could prove your independence from me by hobbling all the way in the house. But I know your back and arm are hurting. You’re already in enough pain. I can make it easier if you let me. You need to let me.” His face was calm, but his words rang with an unmistakable finality.
Our gazes clung as I weighed his words. He wasn’t wrong. Putting my weight on the crutch would take the weight off my foot, but it wouldn’t help the strain in my back.
“Fine.” I dug in my purse and handed him my house keys.
He gave a brief nod, got out, and rounded to my side. I unbuckled the seat belt after he opened the door, slowly working to pivot my legs out of the car. My pulse pounded in my right foot. Twinges lit up across my back. His face tightened at whatever was on my face.
And then Nick was there.
His wide shoulders filled the interior of the car, one arm going around me to gingerly grasp my shoulder. “Let me do it,” he whispered in my ear, and it was so much easier to just let go, to let him. I relaxed into the makeshift hug. He easily lifted my legs to facilitate the turn.
“Good?”
I nodded. He bent forward again and gestured to his neck. “Hold on.”
I was taken aback. I’d thought he’d planned to let me lean on him and walk.
My arms circled his neck and suddenly I was effortlessly aloft, my legs automatically winding around his waist. One of his arms formed a secure ledge under my backside. He slammed the car door closed and we started toward the house.
It felt so good to be held this way. Hoisted in his arms, gripping the firm expanse of his back, supported by the unyielding bar of his arm. For the first time that day, after pushing back all that bright pain, I felt safe. He turned his head, his beard pleasantly scraping my face, and murmured in my ear. I yielded the weight of my head to his shoulder as his words went straight into my ear. “I’ve got you,” he repeated.
And I believed him.
It took forever to get settled. By the time I’d changed into my least ratty pair of pajamas and propped myself up in bed, an hour had gone by. The throbbing in my foot had increased to jackhammering.
A knock sounded from the closed bedroom door.
“Yeah?”
“You decent?”
I looked down at myself. I looked a hot mess, and had all day. It couldn’t get any worse than it already had.
But what did it matter now? He was already here. He’d seen me get teary when the nurse wrapped my foot in wet bandages.
I’d already lost control, and my composure.
“No, but come in.”
He nudged the door open, then stopped in the doorway. Little more than two weeks ago, he’d stood in my office doorway for the first time in twelve years.
Now he stood in my bedroom doorway.
None of it matched what I’d imagined for us all those years ago. But somehow, here we were. Back in the same space, victims of fate.
“These aren’t exactly the circumstances I’d hoped to see your bedroom in,” he