it had been cut. The last time he’d cut it had been about seven months ago and he’d been so disgusted by it that he’d shaved it off. The asshole, as he liked to refer to that prick, Melissa forced on him and the one he had to defend himself against, had gotten a kick out of making the rich boy beg for something. Chase refused to beg for anything as the asshole soon discovered.
“Sounds good to me,” Sloane, he thought her name was, said.
Knowing that he really didn’t have a choice, he sat perfectly still as she began clipping away, preparing himself for the worst. She hummed softly, as she worked, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. Was she going to make him look like an even bigger freak? Not that he went anywhere, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to be someone’s personal joke.
Ten minutes later, she sighed with satisfaction as she put the scissors away only to come back with the electric clippers. His eyes narrowed on her while she leaned in front of him.
“Your beard,” was all she said.
“I like it,” he said defensively. He didn’t. Not really. It itched like hell, but he ran out of razor blades a month ago and the store that delivered his food always forgot them along with half his order. What the hell was a man supposed to do without Doritos?
“It’s uneven, greasy and call me crazy, but with your beautiful hair, intense green eyes and coloring you’d look better without a beard or at least a shorter one. Let’s shave it now and if you don’t like the naked look, then you can always grow it back and trim it.”
He discovered that he was too damn tired to argue. Thanks to her incessant cleaning earlier, he hadn’t been able to get in his customary four-hour afternoon nap. Just sitting here while she worked on him with that damn humming was lulling him to sleep.
If he answered her, he didn’t remember. She probably just took his silence for an answer anyway. No doubt she was used to doing whatever she wanted with her patients because she knew that she could. That wasn’t going to be the case with him. At least, it wouldn’t once he wasn’t so fucking exhausted.
She made quick work of his beard. Once she was done, she stepped back and appraised her work. Great, he was a fucking canvas now. A slow smile spread across her face, a fucking pity smile. He knew he was hideous and now, so did she.
Sloane held a mirror in front of his face before he could look away. He blinked and then blinked again for good measure. His hair looked good. His face was...
He turned away.
“Get it away from me,” he said, hating to see the reminder of what he’d become. It was funny how a year and a half ago he’d had no problem looking in the mirror.
“Well, I think you look very handsome,” she said with a pleased smile.
“Who fucking cares what you think,” Chase bit out coldly.
If he hurt her feelings, she didn’t show it. She smiled patiently as she walked back to the sink. As she searched for something on the counter, he felt his eyes start to drift shut. For a moment, he considered fighting against the exhaustion that was threatening to take over, but in the end, he simply gave in.
Moments later his eyes blinked open when something was nudged into his hand. He looked down to find a new toothbrush covered in toothpaste loosely held in his hand. Without thought, he started brushing his teeth. A few seconds later, she took him completely off guard when she knelt down in front of him.
Anger surged through him as he brushed his teeth a little harder than necessary. This was just what he fucking needed, a beautiful woman reminding him that he was no longer a man. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t his type. She was still a woman and he was a man that she didn’t know. She should be wary of him and she sure as hell shouldn’t be kneeling in front of him like he was a fucking eunuch.
She continued to hum as she clipped his toenails, momentarily distracting him from his justified anger. He cringed at the looks of them. He’d really meant to get to them sooner. He opened his mouth to apologize and then promptly shut it. He wouldn’t apologize for anything.
Once she was done, she stood up with a cheery smile that made him want to hurl. Instead, he spit a mouthful of toothpaste on the floor between her feet simply because he could.
“Lovely,” she muttered, squishing her face up adorably and nearly making him smile.
“Alright, moving along,” Sloane said softly, as she returned the clippers and his toothbrush to the counter before returning to his side. Smiling, she grabbed the handheld showerhead and turned the water on while he watched her every move.
Sucking in a breath, he steeled himself for the revenge that she was about to lay on him. This was a popular move among the nurses that he’d dealt with. They’d turn the water on at full blast and “accidentally” hit him with scalding hot water or leave it cold, put the nozzle just out of reach and walk away, leaving him to freeze his balls off. Of course, their selection depended on just how much he’d managed to piss them off and what they thought they could get away with.
Cold or hot, he was ready.
Still smiling, she turned the water on, pointing the nozzle away from him.
“Hmm, tell me if this is fine,” she mumbled as she carefully moved the nozzle until it was spraying by his hand, but not touching. “Well?”
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he flicked his hand into the water, expecting it to be ice-cold. He was surprised to find that it was hot, but not too hot. In fact, it was perfect, just the way he liked it.
“It’s fine,” he said in a bored tone.
She nodded her approval and placed the nozzle in the lower holder where he could reach it, something no one else had ever done for him before. He watched her hands like a hawk watched its prey, waiting for her to try and change the temperature of the water. When she didn’t, it made him more nervous.
What the hell was her game?
Sloane stepped out of the way and pointed the water on him. It startled him, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat there, letting the hot water seep into his bones. It felt good. Not that he would ever admit it.
Instead, he grabbed the side rail and leaned forward to wet his hair. A bottle of his favorite shampoo was thrust into his hands as he moved to lean back. Taking the hint, he lathered his hair and then grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed his body, but he didn’t do it for her. No, he did it for himself. It felt so good to have hot water running down his body.
Long after he was done, he continued to sit there enjoying the water. Soon he found himself nodding off but managed to force his eyes open when he felt a towel rub over his skin.
“It’s okay. Let’s get you dried off and into a warm bed,” Sloane said soothingly.
Too tired to argue, he simply sat there and allowed her to dry him off, move him to his wheelchair, and wheel him into his room. A few minutes later he was aware of the scent of fresh laundry and the feel of crisp, clean sheets against his skin.
“Your urinal is by the bed and I’ll be right back with a pitcher of ice water in a few minutes. I’m going to leave the bathroom doors open just in case you need me. Okay?”
His last thought before he dozed off was wondering why a young woman would be foolish enough to leave her bedroom door open for a man she’d just met. Then it hit him.
He really wasn’t a man anymore.