Page 33 of Yours Truly, Fall

I’m not going to fight her on that. I’m in a mood that needs distance from people in general. Her, the cause of said mood, being here doesn’t help. I sit on the couch and turn on the TV. Hoping she gets the unsubtle hint I don’t want to talk, I turn up the volume.

I don’t bother asking what she wants to watch or if she’s okay with SportsCenter. I just leave it playing, not giving two flips about the game they’re discussing, and stew in my own bad mood.

We eat in silence, just how I want it, how I’m used to eating. My house is my sanctuary. While most locals clamor to be near the water, I wanted to be in the trees, with the rest of the world hidden by nature.

If I want to walk around naked, I can. I own two acres in every direction of this house. There’s not another home in sight, or person, which I usually prefer. It’s been the ultimate escape, something I built out of hard work and money I’ve earned through stocks.

“Brandon?” I shift my eyes to her. “Did I do something to upset you?”

She keeps reminding me this relationship is purely professional, so why would she care what I think? “No,” I lie.

“It feels like I have. You seem . . . unhappy.”

“Am I supposed to be happy that I almost died or that injuries are keeping me from doing something I love, which just happens to be my job?” I set my empty plate on the coffee table. “I’m sitting around here with nothing to do but watch my injuries heal like paint drying. It’s torturously slow.”

She sets her plate next to mine with a few bites left. “You’re healing faster than you realize. You’re resting, which is necessary, but you’re also healthy and take care of yourself. That always aids in recovery.”

I turn my attention out the windows. The last light of day illuminates the sky before it goes dark and the stars come out. Returning my gaze to her, I say, “I’d really like to take a shower on my own.”

Her eyes search mine for the reason. She won’t find it, and I won’t tell her the truth. I just need the time alone and to know I can do it on my own. “Okay.”

She gives me the space and trust I need without argument, rather than a list of reasons against my wishes. Not sure what to think about that. I stand and scratch the back of my neck. “Thank you.” I head toward the hall.

“Call me if you need anything at all.”

I nod before she disappears from view, and I cover the rest of the distance to my bedroom. I haven’t been in here in hours, so finding the bed made and a small stack of folded shirts on the chair in the corner is surprising.

She was busy while I was napping. I should feel more grateful. Maybe I can after I’m finally clean. I want to scrub myself to a shine.

Flipping on the water, I dip my hand under the spray to test the temperature. The hot water here is fast and efficient. Pays to have the right equipment installed when building.

Since my little nurse said I could remove the bandages, I do. The pressure of the tight dressing is released as I look over the area for the first time. The bruise beside my eye is nothing compared to the flaming red and purple hidden by the wide wrapping.

I attempt to move my shoulder around the socket again and regret it the moment I do. When I lifted it earlier, the bandages kept it somewhat restrained. With nothing stopping the muscles from working at full capacity, I realized I was letting my pride interfere. As much as I want to get back to work to shake the boredom of sitting here, I’m useless with my current range of motion.

I strip off my sweatpants and boxer briefs and step under the warm water. Heaven. It feels so good to have water running over me again. But as soon as I try to deal with the shampoo, I discover my limitations are more than I bargained for.

Looking back at the bathroom door, I have two choices. I push through it, potentially making things worse, or I ask for help. With the water pelting down on my face, I sigh, knowing it has to be done. Opening the glass door, I poke my head out from the stall and call, “Autumn? I need you.”

CHAPTER 15

AUTUMN

My head pops up, and my feet come to a standstill at the sound of my name.

“Coming,” I reply, surprised his ego would allow him to ask for help. Cutting through the bedroom, I stop on the other side of the bathroom door in seconds flat. I fold my hand and knock.

Boredom seemed to flip a switch in his mind earlier when keeping him still was already a challenge. But I didn’t think he was ready for a shower on his own. One more strain of his already wounded muscles could set him back, and I can already tell we’re running out of time to get him healed before he returns to work. It’s safe, Autumn. Let him push himself.

“Come in.” There’s a hint of defeat in his tone, and I take a breath, ready to help him. He did the right thing by calling me when he did.

I tip my head in but keep my eyes closed. “Can I look?”

“You’ve seen it all before, remember?” The sarcasm drips through his voice. He’s not the first of my patients who didn’t enjoy this side of recovery.

Entering the room, I catch one glimpse of him through the glass panel of the door—a body that appears even taller with long muscular legs, water running over his shoulders like in a magazine ad, and his penis more than obvious in size and profound profile. It was more than a glimpse. I stare. Wonder comes from many things in nature, and he’s no exception.

“Hi.” His hand slides down, breaking my view and snapping me back to reality.