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Checking the doorway to make sure Carter hasn’t snuck up on me while I was spaced out, I gather the bed sheets up to my nose and take a sniff. Cloves, oranges, and something so quintessentially Carter hits me.
It’s divine. Addicting. Damn it. What is happening to me?
A sharp ache zips across my shoulder, making me drop the sheet as I cringe. Son of a gun, that hurt. Okay, note to self: arm still not healed enough to use. Got it.
Letting out a slow breath as the pain dissipates, I inch my way out of bed at the pace of a snail. Even though every move is intentional and slow, my body protests at the movement. My shoulder blades are tight, my hip is throbbing, and my head feels cloudy. Other than that, I felt great. Ha!
It’s only when I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to catch my breath, that I see the pills on the bedside table, next to my water bottle.
“Oh, thank God,” I sigh, reaching for the meds and swallowing them quickly. Hopefully, by the time I’m done in the bathroom, they’ll be kicking in.
My arms and legs shake as I go through my morning routine. Washing my face almost has me gasping for breath by the end, but I make it through. Carter has apparently thought of everything. A fresh toothbrush is waiting for me by the sink, along with all the products he knew I’d need. My gaze flick back to the brush, and I feel my eyes pool with tears. He is so damn thoughtful.
Taking a good look in the mirror, I lean forward to inspect all my bruises. Nothing looks too hideous. No one would stop in the street and scream, but I’m also not winning any beauty pageants.
There’s a nice-sized goose egg on my left temple and bruises down my hairline. I’m lucky the eye isn’t swollen shut. My nose is red and dry, but my cheeks are a nice rosy red, which helps make me look semi-alive against my pale skin.
My left hip took the biggest hit when I fell on the ice. Hissing at the sting of pain when I inspect the area, I decide to leave that side alone for a little while. No use dwelling on yesterday’s events. It was bad luck mixed with my stupidity in taking cold meds while in public. I knew better. Cold medicine always hits me fast, and on an empty stomach, it was a dangerous combo. Poor judgment on my part. I just really wanted to perform with the girls last night.
With one last sigh at my disheveled appearance, I tentatively turn and shuffle my way out of the bathroom. I’m moving at a slow, stiff pace again, but it feels good to stretch—even if it does make me dizzy for a moment.
I’m halfway down the stairs when I decide I need to take a break and sit. Sweat dots my hairline, and I’m breathing like I’ve just run a marathon. I hate being sick. Butthissick? This is ridiculous. Am I going to be okay taking care of myself home alone?
“Whatcha doin’?” a sing-song voice asks from the bottom of the stairs.
I don’t bother raising my head from where it’s resting in my hands, braced against my knees. Of course, he would catch me like this.
“Just,” I start with a huff, “catching my breath. Taking in the sights.”
“Ah, yes. The great stairs lookout point. One of the biggest buying features when I considered this house.”
I snort, amused he’s playing along with me. That’s when I see the Christmas tree.
“Oh wow. No, really. I can see your tree from here. It looks so great. How big is that thing?”
“It’s a six-foot Blue Spruce.
“Give me a second. I’ll be down soon. I wanna get a closer look.”
“Should I serve you your tea here or—”
“Ha-ha. I’m coming.” I get back up on shaky legs, clutching the railing with all my might. “Could you help steady me?” The grin on Carter’s face when I finally look at him falls. A heartbeat later, he’s up the stairs, grabbing on to me.
He opens his mouth, no doubt to apologize or make some comment about how he should’ve known I needed help, but I cut him off. I don’t want him to feel bad. After last night, I want to work on being a better communicator with him.
I’m not doing a great job at it this morning, but accepting his help right now is a baby step.
“Thank you.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks as we reach the bottom of the stairs and head into the kitchen. He doesn’t release me until I’m sitting at the table.
“Sore.” I try to laugh, but a groan comes out when my ribs protest. “Everything is sore, but nothing feels off. If you know what I mean.”
He nods. “Oh yeah, I know what you mean. Glad to hear we won’t have to make any more hospital visits.”
“As long as you’re okay with me taking your stash of pain meds home with me, I should be okay on my own.”
“About that,” Carter says, catching my attention from across the kitchen. He gestures to the back door seconds before he opens it.
