Unlike my guitar, I’ll eventually heal, even if recovery is boring in the worst way.
I nap. I eat whatever Mum brings. Ellenor keeps appearing with new mugs of hot beverages I didn’t ask for, always accompanied by a Hogwarts reference or two.
In the initial days, Mum has to help me with everything—going to the bathroom, showering, and carrying anything that could burn or spill.
Brandon goes to work in the mornings, but he usually returns mid-afternoon with a Cornish pasty in a brown paper bag. It’s ridiculous how much I look forward to those moments where he joins me, the paper crinkling as we share a pasty.
I hate feeling like a burden. Someone has to be nearby at all times. The physio at the hospital taught me how to use the crutches but warned me that falls were common.
I’ve been careful, but I didn’t realise how different it would feel in a house with real corners and fatigue dragging my arms.
I’m starting to get the hang of it.
I rotate between the bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room, trying to decide which room inconveniences everyone the least. Watching TV in the living room seems to suit Mum and Ellenor best. We’re bingeingGrey’s Anatomy, which—oddly enough—doesn’t bother me despite the hospital setting.
Whatdoesbother me is being monitored like this.
On the fourth day, when Mum and Ellenor go upstairs, I seize the opportunity to get some fresh air. The front door is closer, and I limp towards it—too fast.
A crutch skids across the floorboards, my good ankle twisting out from under me. I hit the ground hard, the blow to my ribs knocking the breath from my lungs. Pain flashes, and my mouth opens in a stifled cry as I try not to scream.
I lie there for a moment, every muscle clenching, a hot wave of pain rolling up my side and blanking my mind. When it finally begins to ebb, I draw a raspy breath and listen.
No footsteps rush down the stairs. Thankfully.
For a long, humiliating moment, I just lie there, breathing in shallow bursts, waiting for the sting to fade. I promised Mum I’d stay put.
I just wanted a moment to do something on my own. Now I’ve gone and hurt my other foot too, though just how badly remains to be seen.
A low groan escapes as I push up onto one elbow, dread curling through me at the thought of Mum finding me like this. She’s been worried enough as it is.
As I fumble for the crutches, now a crumpled mess on Brandon’s floor, it hits me: I haven’t heard Toby’s voice once since the slipway. Not in the hospital. Not even now.
Good. I’m done carrying him with me.
I force myself onto my knees, but standing feels impossible. There’s nothing within reach to pull myself up on. The crutches lie uselessly beside me, too tall to use unless I grip the handles halfway up the frame, which is easier said than done when my body feels like lead. At least I didn’t knock my cast.
I’ve barely managed to prop up the crutches, my arms trembling from the effort, when the front door opens. Brandon stands silhouetted in the doorway, daylight pouring in around him, still in his work clothes. Hestops dead, eyes widening as he takes in my state—the awkward angle I’ve fallen into; the pain I can’t mask as I look at him.
“Lily!”
He’s beside me in an instant, his hands catching my waist, hauling me upright in one surge of motion. It’s half an embrace, half a rescue, and my chest is pressed to his as he holds me against him.
For a few seconds, I just cling, disoriented, breath shaking, the world tilting around us. His warmth is the only solid thing I can find.
Then sense returns in a slow rush. I look for my crutches, but they’re on the ground, my fingers fumbling in the air.
“Easy. Let me.” He loosens his grip but keeps hold of my elbow, steadying me as he passes the crutches to me. Once I’m steady, he steps back slightly. Softly, he asks, “Are you hurt?”
He’s not about to reprimand me, I realise.
“A little. Landed on my hip. And I might have twisted my other foot a bit.”
“Would you like me to carry you?”
“No, I think I’m okay. I’ll try walking.”
He nods and silently accompanies me down the hall—only for me to realise I have no idea where I’m going. I’m in no mood for more TV.
