“I’m moving in.”
“The hell you are.”
“Princesa, you’re not exactly in a great position to negotiate. Either I move in, or we get a nurse like we agreed.”
“You’ll be travelling with the team.” Her accusation sends an arrow straight into my chest.
“I’ll leave the team if I have to.”
Her eyes flex wide, mouth dropping open. It’s as though I smacked her in the face. “You don’t mean that.”
“I fucking do. Try me. You’re not alone in this, Edie. I’m moving in, end of discussion. Now, are you going to let me help you out of this mess, or are we going to do things the hard way?”
Her nose flares, eyes narrowing and crosses her arms.
Guess we’re choosing violence today.
Closing the distance between us, I brace myself for the fallout of what I’m about to do before I pick her ass up off the bathroom tiles.
Ignoring her squeals of protest and her flailing limbs—for the record, casts fucking hurt when you get smacked with them repeatedly—I carry her from the toilet to the space between the his-and-hers sinks.
She’s still scowling when I carefully set her down, but I’m undeterred.
“Escúchame, princesa.”
“No, Pollo.Youlisten tome.”
Gritting my teeth, I push aside the fleeting idea of picking her panties up off the bathroom floor and shoving them in her sassy mouth to shut her up. I settle for covering her mouth with my palm.
“You can fight me all you want, but here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to get the plastic bags Penelope brought over last night to cover your casts, and then I’m taking you to the shower where I’m going to get you clean, hair included. We’re gonna get you dressed, breakfast is on the way, and I’ve ordered food for the next couple of weeks.”
Her eyes sparkle with what I’m hoping is gratitude, but it might be murderous intent. I can’t quite tell.
“If you need me to stay in the friend zone for the duration of your healing, that’s cool. I will absolutely do that. But make no mistake that when you’re ready to explore this...” I sweep my finger between both of us. “I’m here. I’m all the way in. Both feet. Whole heart. And I’m not giving up on the idea that we’re meant for each other.”
Her eyes narrow, and her mouth moves behind my hand, but I’m not done yet.
“This isn’t trauma speaking, Edith. I don’t care what you say. This isn’t something new, or scary, or temporary. The accident woke something up inside me that’s always been there. I’m in love with you. Accept it. Get over it. Live with it. And perhaps be open to the idea that you might be a little in love with me too. I’ll wait.”
The woman growls on my hand. It would be hot if I wasn’t concerned for my junk.
“And since you’re quiet, I have something else to say. While you’re sulking that I have to help you out in the shower I’d like you to think about something else, too. Think about how fucking resilient you are. Maybe even be a little grateful for the strength you’ve built in your legs through your training.”
Her eyes pop wide, brows shooting up in question as a muffled, “huh?” comes from behind my hand.
“I get that this is literally the worst thing you believe could have happened to you. But have you given a second to consider the fact that while yes this is awful, and exhausting, and you have such a long stretch of uncertain terrain ahead of you, that you’re also in a really good fucking position to fight through it?”
She grunts. Good. She’s still listening, even if she’s pissy and seems to think I’m being ridiculous.
“This is going to be easier for you than it would be for someone who wasn’t a dancer. Think about it, Edie. Your training means your legs are strong as fuck, and they’re used to working independently. Over the coming weeks your good leg is going to take a lot of the pressure and stress to compensate for your broken one. But you’re going to heal faster because you are tough, your legs are conditioned and robust. I know it doesn’t feel like it but you’ve got this. And when you don’t, I’ve got you until you do.”
And I fucking do, too.
CHAPTER9
Edith
(JANUARY 7TH – DAY 11 POST OP)
