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Very cute.
Trey abruptly rose from the bed, “You can use the bathroom directly across the hall, oh and here!”
He walked to the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a cell phone. Her eyes again went wide as he handed her the device.
“You got me a phone too?” Her tone was harsh with bewilderment.
To her relief Trey shook his head, “It’s yours, you— you had—uhm— misplaced it. I got it back and was holding onto it for you and forgot to give it back to you the night of the accident, so I held onto it, keeping it safe for when you woke back up.”
Maybelle stared blankly at the phone, with how he stuttered around the explanation she knew there were a few details he was leaving out, but she didn’t ask more, only raised her eyes to his, “It’s cute and a little creepy how obsessed you are with me.”
Trey’s brows furrowed, “I am not obsessed with you.”
“Mhmm.” Maybelle hummed. “Sure.”
“I’m not.” He said with more finality but the little waver in his voice betrayed him.
Maybelle giggled, “Hun, you sat and watched me sleep for a year, now you’ve practically adopted me. That sounds a bit obsessive to me.” A teasing grin captured her lips when Trey began to fidget.
“You’re a brat.” He smirked and rolled his eyes.
Maybelle continued to smile, not willing to argue because he was right, she was a brat and proud.
Trey’s eyes narrowed at her then, “Fine, I can admit that I am— attracted to you, but don’t act like this is a one-sided thing. I can tell you are just as taken with me.”
Maybelle’s head tilted curiously, “Oh? And what makes you say that?” She challenged.
Dimples.
Trey had dimples that made a heart stopping appearance as he ignored her question.
“I am going to bed, if you need anything…”
Trey hesitated, giving her a long once over, a devilish grin pulling up his lips.
“If you need anything, my bedroom is down the hall, and I don’t mind late night calls.” Trey punctuated that commentwith a wink and while it was actually sexy as hell, Maybelle’s head rolled back with laughter as he left the room, shuttingherbedroom door on the way out.
16 Your Mom Saved My Life
The next few days were a blur.
Maybelle was always sleeping, or how Chelsea liked to put it, always “recovering”.
Maybelle hated it.
The sluggish, hollow feeling of her body lacking the strength to even stand on her own two feet? Absolutely horrible.
It had been eight days since she woke up. Eight days and she was just as useless as when she had been in a coma. Except now, she was cognizant, aware of her stale existence.
It was Maybelle’s own personal hell.
The only time Chelsea encouraged, or more like, kindly forced Maybelle out of bed and into the land of the living was to be brutally tortured in her physical therapy sessions.
It was cruel and unusual punishment, the stretches and exercises her body was being subject to. Annalise Jones, the sadistic tormentor that claimed to be a Physical Therapist had come to the Turner home the last three days to bend and pushMaybelle’s body in ways she refused to believe could ever be healthy.
“I promise, if we keep up with this May, you will be walking on your own in no time.” Annalise promised in her chipper southern accent as she would pull Maybelle’s joints into a new excruciating position.
Maybelle had to keep her mouth closed when Annalise said something like that because she was all too tempted to cuss the woman out each time. But if Maybelle was truly being honest with herself, she really liked Annalise. She was a sweetheart, and what she appreciated most about the woman was how much she pushed her. Yeah, she may want to strangle and maim the woman in the heat of a painful muscle extension, but she was starting to feel the progress.
