While I drove back to the fire station, Monica continued to work on her PT exercises. Her temporary prosthetic had limited functionality with only two commands: open and close. She had no problem getting it to close, but opening it was an issue. Hearing her growl in frustration, I looked over to find her glaring at her arm. “Still struggling?” I asked.
“Piece of shit! I think it’s defective. Or maybe I am.”
I didn’t like her talking about herself like that. Since my foot didn’t need to do half the shit her hand needed to do, I lacked the experience necessary to help her. Instead of advice, I had to settle on encouragement. “Keep at it; it will get easier,” I replied. “Next thing you know, you’ll have your permanent prosthetic and you’ll be handlin’ shit like the next Misty Knight.”
She stared at me. “I have no idea who that is.”
Unable to believe my ears, I gaped at her. “As in the comic book character.”
Shaking her head, she chuckled. “Ohmigod, you are so nerdy.”
But the sound of her laugher was much better than listening to her berate herself. If it made her laugh, I had no problem with being a nerd. Encouraged, I kept going. “What? You don’t wanna be a superhero? Why would you choose to be basic when you can be a badass?”
“Possibly because superheroes aren’t real.”
“I’m not tryin’ to hear that noise. You know what we gotta do, babe? We gotta hold a funeral for your excuses.”
She groaned. “You’re like the worst motivational coach ever. Stop. Please, just stop.”
“I mean it. You gotta keep working and when you finally succeed, it’ll be one more brick in your shit house.”
“I don’t even wanna know what that means.”
So I started singing. “She’s a brick… house. She’s mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out.”
Rolling her head back, she wasn’t even paying attention to her hand as it opened.
“Babe.” I nodded toward her hand. “You did it!”
Her entire face lit up. Emotion flickered in her eyes, but she blinked it away. “Thank you.”
Monica
THE NEXT TWO weeks passed in a blur. Despite his best efforts, Stocks still hadn’t found a job. He was trying to keep his frustration at bay, but every time he checked his messages, I could see disappointment written all over his face. Like me, he didn’tneeda job since he received a disability check every month, but hewantedone. And I didn’t want his self-worth to plummet because nobody would hire him.
Still, it was nice to spend my days and nights with him.
It wasn’t like we planned every waking moment together; it just happened. Being around him was so damn comfortable, it felt kind of like wearing a pair of flannel pajamas with no bra on Christmas morning. Of course I wanted that feeling all the time. Who wouldn’t?
Whenever I accomplished something new with my arm, he was the person I had to show.
Every time he opened a rejection email, I was there to comfort him and take his mind off it.
Living every moment by his side just… worked.
So, when he was recruited to help with the Copper Penny remodel, I decided to tag along and lend my help, rather than trying to find my own hobby that didn’t involve him. Ready to work, we met up with a handful of other bikers and a few women at the bar. Spade was the man leading the construction, and he seemed to know his shit. He demonstrated how to rip out the old bar’s ductwork before leaving us to it while he measured and cut replacement panels.
Despite telling me he wasn’t a good carpenter, Stocks picked it up quickly and seemed to enjoy working with his hands. And I’m not gonna lie, watching his muscles strain as he ripped shit apart and tossed it aside was no hardship for me. Hell, I’d pay good money for that privilege.
Since my permanent prosthesis wasn’t scheduled to arrive for two more weeks, my temporary arm restricted me to tasks like fetching tools, drinks, and supplies for the guys. I used it as often as I could. Sometimes I spilled a drink or knocked something over, and one of the smartass guys would pop off with something to make me laugh at the situation.
Despite the nasty old smells our demo work kept releasing, I couldn’t have picked a better environment to practice using my arm in.
While removing the old ductwork, we found several patches of rot, so the job extended to include the removal and replacement of lumber where needed. Nobody seemed to mind the extra work one bit. We were on day four of what was only supposed to be a two-day job when Stocks was surprised by a phone call. Hoping it was finally a potential employer reaching out to him, I waited impatiently for him to fish the cell out of his pocket and check out the screen.
His brow furrowed when he saw the caller ID. Shaking his head to let me know it wasn’t a job, he answered. “Stocks here.” I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the line, but whatever was said instantly set him on edge. “What? Is she okay?” He listened some more. “Yeah. Of course. Anything you need. Monica and I will be right there.” Hanging up, he blew out a breath. “Lily’s been hurt. We gotta head over to the fire station and help Emily. I’m gonna put away my tools. Will you let Spade know and meet me by the back door?”
I had so many questions, but Stocks was upset and I could tell time was of the essence, so I bit my tongue and beat feet to find Spade. Once our tasks were complete, Stocks and I met up and jogged over to the fire station.
