left of his trip.
“Did you think I was going to stay on the other side of the world when my best friend was put in the hospital?” He leaned in close, carefully clasping my shoulder. “I got here as quick as I could. It’s good to see you smiling, man.”
“Just picked him up from Logan,” Joe said as he hugged my shoulders.
The phone call from Joe’s wife had saved him from getting injured. The lucky bastard only had a few scratches on his face from falling to the pavement.
Both of my boys said hello to my mother, eventually taking seats by the bed.
“How’s it going today?” Smith asked. “Joe’s been keeping me updated. I know you lost your phone.”
My assistant had already purchased me a new one, but I hadn’t been checking it much—the notifications and messages didn’t mix well with how I was feeling.
“The pain isn’t easy,” I admitted. “I’ve only taken a few short steps, but they say I’m doing good.”
“Jesus Christ,” Smith said, pity covering his face. “I still can’t believe it.”
“None of us can,” my mother replied.
“How was your trip—or what you were able to enjoy of it before coming back?” I asked Smith, reaching the end of my vulnerability for the day.
“We’re going as soon as you feel up to it,” he responded before describing many of the details that I hadn’t seen through text or Instagram.
But all I could think about was how long it would take before I was comfortable enough to fly that long, when—if ever—I would find myself on the back of an ATV. The talk I’d had with Whitney last night was so present in my mind. Reality swirling like a tornado, the wind causing my hair to rise as my limitations came into view.
My hands reached for the covering, wishing like hell it were the blanket of brown, and I squeezed the thin material into my palms.
Even surrounded by friends and family didn’t make this easier. Because I knew it was just a matter of time before they rose from their chairs, walked down the hallway to the elevator, and got in a car outside. But I was cemented to this bed, hoping the pain medication would kick in even higher, waiting for the man I’d once been to return.
Whitney had told me not to mourn my life, that it would just look a little different now.
But that was a pill that felt impossible to swallow.
Five
“Hey,” Whitney said from the doorway of my room, her hand clinging to the frame. “Feel like having some company?”
I turned off my tablet and set it on the table, nodding. “Please.”
As she walked in, I saw hints of her body through the loose scrubs, a pair of lean legs and a narrow waist, tits that would fit perfectly in my palms. Her sexiness certainly didn’t end at her face.
“How are you feeling tonight?” she asked, choosing the closest chair to the bed.
I could still feel the softness of her hands from when she had bathed me. Those were the thoughts I’d tried to focus on after my mother and friends left, drowning out the rest of the noise filling my head. Whitney made this prison and its constant torture more tolerable.
“Not as bad as last night,” I admitted. “But sitting and standing aren’t fun at all.”
She crossed her legs, holding her hands over her knee. “Those positions, they take your breath away, don’t they?”
I ground my teeth together, thinking how it would feel if I turned my hips and swung my legs a few inches to the side. “I’ll never take movement for granted again.”
The light behind my bed showed the bags beneath her eyes, and she lifted her arm, yawning into the crook of her elbow.
“When was the last time you slept?”
As her arm dropped, she hugged it across her navel, as though that were the only thing keeping her from falling off the seat. “I took a nap a few hours ago. But in an actual bed? That would be the night before the marathon.”
I knew exactly how long ago that was. How many hours. I could even break it into minutes.
“I realize I’m the patient here, and I shouldn’t be giving you advice, but I hope you’ve at least gotten something to eat.”
She smiled, and the aching in my spine suddenly faded a little. “My best friend brought me some cookies from our favorite bakery.” Her brows rose, her finger lifting into the air. “One sec. I’ll be right back.”