He presses his lips together and hands me the phone as he says, “Oxley.”
“Are you a doctor?” I say into the phone.
A receive a chuckle back. “I am.”
“Good. Tell this man I need to pee, and I can manage on my own. I’ve been peeing all by myself for more than twenty years, and Idon’tneed help now!”
I can hear his amusement when he speaks. “How does your leg feel?”
My gaze falls to it. I can’t see the wound. There aren’t even any red stains coming through the clean white bandage. “It’s fine.”
“How’s your pain level?”
“Mostly fine. Sitting up without the use of my leg served as a reminder that I need to get into better shape.”
Mark chuckles. “I didn’t staple your wounds, so there’s a chance you could pull the sutures if you’re not careful. There’s a misconception that pain is a weakness, and you need to power through. In reality, pain is your body’s way of telling you that something’s wrong. The more painful, the louder the message it’s trying to send.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Your pain receptors aren’t as responsive right now because of the drugs I put you on. You can pee on your own, but listen to what your body tells you. It’s okay to ask for help, especially if you want to heal without complications.”
I sigh. “All right, I get it.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I think maybe I lost the connection before he speaks again. “Oxley is a good man,” he says quietly. “I don’t know why he brought you home, but you’re safe there. He’ll take excellent care of you, probably more than you’d like. He follows instructions exactly, and there isn’t any convincing him otherwise. But I can promise he’s a good guy.”
Raising my eyes to Oxley, I release a breath. I think I might have already figured that out. This man is a virtual stranger, and yet, I haven’t felt threatened by him at all. Idofeel safe here. Even though I know nothing but his name.
“Okay.”
I hand the phone to Oxley and watch him respond. There’s a moment he wants to argue, but he ends up agreeing. He hangs up and pockets the phone. Then we stare at each other.
Holding out my hand, I ask, “Will you help me stand, Ox?”
“Oxley,” he says as he comes closer, taking my hand in his.
His grip is strong, sure. I lean nearly all my weight on him as I slide from the bed and land gently on my uninjured leg. Okay, this isn’t so bad. Gently placing my other leg on the floor so it’s resting, I think I can do this. Not bad at all.
Until I put pressure on that leg and the pain is immediate. My knees buckle, tears flood my eyes, and a choked sob-gasp combination comes out of my mouth.
I don’t hit the ground, though. Oxley catches me before I get close, and I’m pressed against his chest, trying to catch my breath. My lungs are filled with him, and it’s… dizzying. Swallowing the pain back down to its throbbing presence, I lift my eyes to meet his.
If he wants to gloat and tell me he told me so, I wouldn’t blame him. But the only thing I see in his eyes is concern. Maybe a touch of panic. His heart is beating wildly in his chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Oxley nods.
“Will you… help me into the bathroom?”
He nods again. I get situated on my good leg, putting all my weight there, and Oxley shifts around to pick me up like I weigh no more than a kitten. I flush, feeling rather small and maybe a little breathless from being held bridal style. But he doesn’t move as he stares beyond me.
Following his line of sight, I find he’s looking at the bag of dripping liquid and my heart monitor. “I got it,” I say and reach for it. It’s on wheels, so I lead it along in front of us.
The bathroom door is the second one in the room on the wall with the bed. As soon as we step inside, a light flickers on over the sink. It’s not bright, reminding me of a nightlight that turns on with motion.
Oxley sets me on my feet, and I shuffle, using the wall and sink to situate myself in front of the toilet. He hasn’t moved, and I twist to glare at him. “This is the part where I need you to wait outside, Ox.”
“Oxley,” he says reflexively, eyes narrowing. They travel down my body, and I’m very conscious of the fact that I’m not wearing pants. And hell, I’m not even wearing my own shirt! A shiver travels along my body as I think of this man changing my clothes.
