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In the tiny emergency cubicle, she found Harry looking marginally better.
She smiled at him. “What’s the damage?”
“Could have been worse.” His beautiful eyes were sleepy. “Six stitches. No permanent damage to the knee. They gave me happy pills.”
“Any for me?” she asked. “Kidding, of course.”
Harry sobered and held out his hand. An invisible connection drew her across the room and tucked her fingers in his.
“Thank you, Cate,” he said. “You’re the most unflappable person I’ve ever seen in an emergency. I owe you.”
She didn’t feel unflappable. Now that all the adrenaline was gone, she felt limp and wiped out. “Can we go home?”
“The nurse is getting my discharge papers.”
Less than an hour later, Cate pulled into the carport and shut off the engine. When they made it into the house, she glanced at the clock and adjusted the AC. “It’s late. Let’s get you into bed.”
“That’s what all the women say.”
Harry’s loopy smile was adorable, though she was positive he would hate that description.
“I’ll get you settled on the sofa tonight,” she said. “I can sleep in the recliner.”
The old, recalcitrant Harry reared his head. “All my things are upstairs in my room. That’s where I’m sleeping.”
Cate counted to ten. “You could break your neck falling down the steps. Be reasonable, Harry.”
“I feel great,” he said, the words slurred. “All I need is a shower.”
Thinking about Harry in the shower was a bad idea. Cate steeled her resolve. “I don’t think that’s smart. You should go straight to sleep. I’ll wash the sheets in the morning.”
“Shower first.” Before she could stop him, he had his crutches and was headed for the stairs.
She hovered behind him, not at all sure she could break his fall if things went south.
Fortunately, Harry managed the stiff-legged ascent without problems.
When they made it to the hallway on the second floor, she debated her options.Somebodyresponsible had to dispense pain meds during the night. The doctor said Harry would need them for at least forty-eight hours.
That meant she had to sleep on his end of the hallway in the spare bedroom.
“Harry, why don’t you rethink the shower?” she pleaded. “You can’t put weight on your foot, and you’re taking pain meds. Another fall, especially in the bathtub, could be worse. Aren’t you supposed to keep the stitches dry?”
He turned awkwardly and shook his head. “I’m sweaty and gross. Plus, your grandparents have handheld showerheads and grab bars. Quit worrying. The doc put a waterproof bandage on me.”
Cate bit her lip hard to keep from yelling at him. “I’ll wait in your bedroom, so I can hear you,” she said.
“You could always offer to wash my back,” he said, giving her a grin that made her catch a breath.
His drugged state had lowered his inhibitions. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said, her voice strangled. “After I get you settled in bed, I’ll get an ice pack for your knee and maybe a snack so you can sleep.”
When Harry moved into his room, she hovered in the hall. It would take him a few minutes to get ready for his shower. She would be able to hear when the water started. This old house had noisy pipes.
When she was sure he wasn’t standing naked beside his bed, she moved into his room and listened at the bathroom door. There were some mumbles and a few salty words. But no loud noises. Thank goodness.
She honestly didn’t know how he was managing this effort on his own. The whole bathroom would probably be flooded, though that was the least of her worries.
After about fifteen minutes, the water shut off. Cate scooted back into the hall and closed the bedroom door, her heart racing. Even now, Harry wasn’t out of danger.
