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“Of course you did,” I groused. “It’s fine unless I move too quickly or put weight on it too suddenly.”
“Any weird sensations or sounds when you walk or when it wobbles? Grinding, popping, unusual cracking?”
“No.”
He gently pulled the leg of my sweats down. “And your arm?” He nodded to the brace I still had on. “Can you take that off so I can check it?”
I took off the brace and he cradled my arm in his big hands. I’d learned that Caleb’s touch didn’t bother me when it was for a medical reason. Maybe it was his gentleness, or the look of concern on his face. Or maybe it was that he listened and treated me like a person and didn’t just talk at me or over me.
“How does this feel?” He dragged his fingers over the weird bump on the side of my arm. “Any pain when I do that?”
“Not really. It hurts when I put pressure on it, but that was fine. What is it? Why is it like that?”
“That’s your bone bruise. It can take months to fully heal. You’ll have to be careful not to bump it until it’s faded.”
“Awesome,” I deadpanned.
“How’s the wrist? Do you have your full range of motion back?”
“Mostly.”
He pressed two fingers against my palm and held up his other hand. “Squeeze both my hands at the same time.”
I did. He made a thoughtful sound.
“What?”
“You’re healing well, but you still need to be careful.”
“Careful is a luxury I don’t have.”
“What about work?”
“What about it?”
“Are you working at the club this weekend?”
“Why?” I ground out. The reminder that I was currently jobless and nearly destitute erased all the goodwill I’d managed to scrape together. Ire flowed through me like a living thing, familiar and as comfortable as an old sweater.
“Just answer the damn question.”
“Why don’t you answer mine?” I shot back.
“Are you this much of an asshole to everyone, or am I just special?”
“You’re not special.”
“Why are you always so goddamn emotional?!” he burst out.
“I'm not,” I snapped. “You just don't care about anything, that's why you're always so calm!”
“I do care. That's why I'm fixing problems and not unloading my burdens on someone else. You're so quick to defend other people, like that woman at your work. But you have no issue bringing your emotional mess to someone else—someone who’s only trying to help you!”
His words hit way too close to home. Blood pounded in my ears. My chest and face flamed hot as my anger bubbled over and shifted to rage. “I didn’t ask for your help! I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“And next you’re going to tell me you’re fine, you don’t need anyone, and you hate me.”
“You think you know me after spending a few days taking care of me while I was hopped up on pain pills? You don’t. You know nothing about me.”
