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“No.”
“That goes a long way in the healing process,” I said.
“No,” he said.
“It also helps with someone’s mental state. The biggest sign of a Vitamin D deficiency is-”
“I said… no.”
“Irritability. And depression, but mostly irritability.”
He slowly panned his gaze over to me and hardened his eyes on mine. There was a park right up the road I could push him to. Or watch him struggle to get himself to. Or whatever the hell he felt was necessary for him to retain some sort of manhood within his own life. But instead, all I got were these dirty looks. Looks that told me I was brazen for even addressing him the way I did. But every time, his silence and unwillingness would win out. No matter how much I thought it was in his best interest to go outside and interact with the world, I couldn’t make him do something he didn’t want to do.
But sometimes, I wished I could.
His anger, however, was mounting. His words were getting colder and the moments when he did feel like talking, it was more criticizing than anything. There were nights where I would sit on the edge of my bed and silently cry, wiping at my tears as his words rang out in my head.
Don’t you have something better to do?
Do you not have any friends to go annoy?
What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you always asking me questions?
My business is mine. Not yours. Stick to being a pain in the ass and I’ll stick to being a billionaire.
His words stung more than they should’ve, and I knew that. Days that were particularly rough landed me in the bathtub in my ensuite bathroom, crying into a vat of bubbles. He was difficult and angry. And the only person he had to lash out at was me. I knew that. I understood that. I kept telling myself that.
But it didn’t make things any easier.
“Mr. Lowell?”
I heard him grumbling as he wheeled into his room. He knocked what I assumed was the wheel of his chair against the corner, but I wanted to be sure. I got out of the bath and dried myself off, then pulled my nightgown over my head. Piling my hair high on top of my head, I stepped into the hallway and stood there.
Listening to Hayden grunt with frustration.
“Mr. Lowell? Do you need any help?”
But all that came was silence.
Until a massive thud resounded on the floor.
“Mr. Lowell!”
I dashed into his room and found him face-planted on the floor. Shirtless and struggling, I took in the sight. Hayden was trying to get out of his wheelchair and into bed, and in the process had lost his balance and fallen.
I was going to have to get him off the floor, and he wasn’t going to like it.
I planted my feet on either side of his body and bent down, using the muscles in my back to wrap my arms underneath his. I slid my hands along his chest, cupping his chiseled muscles before I braced my arms.
“On the count of three,” I said. “One… two…”
I pushed with my legs and hoisted him into the air. I helped him to his knees, then slid my hands down his body and braced. I could feel every sculpted ab he possessed as my arms clung to him, trying to get him from the floor to the bed so he could rest.
He’d had such a long day, and I wanted him to get a good night’s sleep.
I braced my legs and slowly lifted him into the air. I could feel him getting his feet underneath him, but his hip was still very tender. It was the part of his body we were struggling with the most, especially since his other surgery was just around the corner.
I sat back onto the edge of his bed, spreading my legs so he was cradled between my thighs.
