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I knew jack shit about car maintenance. I never cared to learn, but I should now that I have two gearheads living under the roof.
“Kiyah? Can you hand me the ratchet?”
She dropped to her knees and peered at me from below the car.
“What size, Mr. Jonathan?”
Shit. I don’t know.
“The big one.”
“Okay,” she said excitedly. Tools clanged around in the toolbox until she returned with the appropriate tool. “Here you go!”
“Thank you, sweetheart. Oh, can you get me a screwdriver?”
“Which one? Slotted or Phillips?”
“Slotted, please,” I replied, tinkering with absolutely nothing under the car. Kiyah was happy, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Forty-Six
Kierra
Soft snoring and a familiar but uncomfortable heaviness on my chest woke me before my alarm. I smiled down at my child, who climbed into bed with me after dinner and wanted to read a bedtime story with me. It took nearly thirty minutes to read a simple children’s picture book because she’d stop me every few seconds to ask if I was okay. I must’ve said, “Mommy’s okay, Kiyah,” more than the words in the book.
I didn’t know the reason for Kiyah’s sudden shift in attitude, but if I had to guess from Jonathan’s satisfied smile as he leaned against the door frame, he had something to do with it. Whatever the case, I was grateful.
I screwed my eyes shut and tried to pray away the pain as I removed Kiyah. I was sweating by the time I trudged to the bathroom to relieve myself. I stared at the shower longingly, wanting nothing more than to relax under the steamy battering spray of the shower head, but that wouldn’t be possible without getting my splint and bandages wet.
Simone and Felicity offered to assist with my hygiene needs, but Jonathan made it clear that he could take care of me himself.
He’s just as stubborn as I am. He better quit playing because I know he can’t do my hair.
I washed my hands and shuffled out of the bathroom, making a beeline for the narcotics in my dresser. I tossed two pills into my mouth and washed it down with a nearby bottle of water.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I heard Jonathan ask. He had scared the shit out of me, but I was too injured to even think about jumping in shock.
“I had to use the restroom.”
“Wrong direction,” he said rather brusquely.
“How did—”
I trailed off when he raised the baby monitor.
“Are you hungry?”
“I am, but I’d really like a shower first…if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’ll do anything to see you naked,” he admitted, cracking a tiny smile. It should’ve relieved me, but I could tell he was putting on a front.
“Did something happen while I’ve been incapacitated, Jon?”
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I didn’t fight it. I allowed him to escort me to his bedroom and finally the shower seat after he carefully stripped me.
