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He slow blinks in my direction. “Don’t go getting fucking sappy on me, dude.”
“You’re the most politically incorrect person I know.”
He shrugs. “Do you want me to treat you differently than I did before, because I sure as fuck don’t see you differently.”
I wipe at a fake tear on my cheek. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Get fucked,” he says with a chuckle as he opens the driver’s side door. “But for real, do you need any help?”
“Nah, I got it. I’m not as sore as I thought I would be.”
Ugly works on grabbing our bags from the back seat as I work on getting the compression sleeve back on my residual leg so I can slip on the temporary prosthetic.
I think I can understand why Kincaid had me hold off on returning as long as he did. With the prosthetic, I feel a little more whole. I’m a little more confident in my ability to walk with the thing although I do catch myself dragging it on occasion. I’m still using the cane, and probably will for a while, but eventually I’ll have a life with two free hands once again.
I should feel like things are looking up. I’m standing outside the clubhouse, a place at one point I never thought I’d return to.
But I know she’s inside.
Many of the guys visited me over the last couple of weeks, but Slick never darkened the door again after sneaking out that day before the sun even kissed the horizon. She hasn’t called and hasn’t texted, not that she did much of that before Costa Rica.
Maybe things will be like usual, but I know better. Before, I’d flirt with her in the presence of the other guys. I’d watch her, making them think I was playful about it when in truth I couldn’t take my eyes off her if she was in the room.
I can’t do that now. Too much has passed between us for things to return to exactly the way they were.
Our stay in Albuquerque was proof of that. We purposely avoided each other most days, even after the sex started.
Traversing the steps to the clubhouse is tricky. I had only a few chances to practice this with Anthony before being scheduled to attend a once-a-week PT session back in Albuquerque.
“We should see if Kincaid can put in a wheelchair ramp,” Ugly says absently as he passes me on the stairs.
“I’m not in a fucking wheelchair, dick,” I mutter, as I slowly make it to the top of the stairs.
I’ve done more research about my injury than most people would think was healthy. I know a below-the-knee amputation would’ve been a little easier to manage, but Anthony assures me I’ll eventually be able to use this new prosthetic as well. All it takes is time and practice. He forgot to mention patience, but I think it wasn’t brought up on purpose.
Several people greet me when I finally make it through the front door. It isn’t exactly a party, and I’m grateful for that. It would be weird to celebrate my return because of how seriously I fucked up, but everyone seems genuinely happy to see me.
I accept hugs from both Em and Misty, a beer from Khloe, and more than a handful of slaps on the back from the guys.
Surprisingly, Slick is in the room. Not surprisingly, she keeps her distance, raising her own beer in a half-assed salute.
I manage to lift mine in return but allow myself to look away when Ugly tells me he’s going to toss my bag in my bedroom.
“You can toss my bag later,” my friend says with a wink before walking away.
The guys chuckle. Em and Misty both roll their eyes before walking away.
“Let’s see it,” Grinch says as he walks up, his eyes locked on the lower part of my right leg.
I purposely wore pants loose enough to get it on and off in the vehicle and to cover it up when I arrived, and now this motherfucker has the balls to insist on something so personal.
“Half-man, half-machine,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re gonna kick our asses once we go back to work.”
I realize he isn’t trying to be insensitive, but the man has no idea the struggle I’ve been through with all this shit.
At the same time, I know it’s the big fucking elephant in the room. With Slick here, that makes two conversations I was hoping to avoid. Maybe getting it over with, satisfying everyone’s curiosity, is what’s best.
“Leave him alone,” Em chides, a clear warning in her voice.
Grinch’s face falls, but I can tell it isn’t because he’s disappointed but because he’s only now realizing how what he’s asking is construed by others.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, everyone clearing a path so I can sit down on the couch.
