I will get my fucking shit together before I walk out that door.
With every ounce of self-control, I dry off, drag on a pair of shorts, and step into the hall with my shirt twisted tight in my fist.
Aspen is ready and waiting in the kitchen with everything laid out on the table. She points to the chair, all business on the surface, but the tension between us makes sitting feel like working the fire line in shifting winds.
One wrong move and I’m done for.
Awareness prickles my skin with every move she makes, right down to the sharp inhale when her fingers brush my shoulder. Four days of this and it should be routine by now.
It’s anything but.
Every touch brands my skin, sending a bead of sweat rolling down my spine.
“When you see the doctor today, you should push for a referral to physical therapy.” Aspen smooths fresh gauze into place. “Nick at the hospital is their default and he’s fine, butthere’s a physical therapist downtown who focuses on functional rehab. For someone active like you, it could make a big difference.”
Her touch softens when my jaw tightens.
If only she knew she’s not hurting me . . . at least, not in the way she thinks.
“Whatever gets me back to work faster.”
“Rushing will only make things worse. Healing takes time.”
Frustration bubbles to the surface.
“I need something to do. Sitting around is killing me.”
Aspen doesn’t flinch at my bitten-off words.
“Then we need to find you a hobby.”
She’s always fixing things—bodies and problems—piecing shattered things back together.
Someone should tell her there aren’t enough sutures in the world to stitch my soul back together.
“It’s not like I can do much.”
“There’s always knitting.”
My mouth twitches despite my best efforts not to let it. “I’m good with my hands and like them busy.”
She studies me for a beat, like she’s seriously considering this. “There are puzzles in the guest bedroom closet.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind.”
Her eyes drop to my hands in my lap and linger before she’s biting her lip and looking away when she catches herself.
I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking.
Against my better judgement, I loosen the reins.
“My eyes are up here.”
Her hand comes up to playfully smack me, but stops halfway, tucking it into her side.
“I was just thinking, asshole.”
She fusses with the tape, making sure it’s applied just so.
