"What the fuck?"
When she's about three inches away, moving toward me with her hands up like she's trying to prevent my escape, I step back.
"Yeah, what the fuck," she echoes. "That's what I'm wondering. Did I make a mistake in agreeing to this? The doctors and nurses at the rehab clinic wouldn't put up with you being an asshole. They'd sedate you if needed."
I snort. "Would not."
"That's enough out of you." She keeps walking, forcing me to move. She can tell I don't want her to touch me. That would be crossing some sort of invisible line I've drawn in my head.
"Wait, wait. What if I want to rest in the living room?"
Scout pauses. "Will you change into more comfortable clothes first?"
I glance down at myself. "I'm fine. What's wrong with jeans?"
"We both know you wouldn't be wearing jeans if I wasn't here."
"Yeah, well. If you weren't here, there's a good chance I'd be naked. So you can deal with jeans as a compromise."
"Silas." She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "The point I'm trying to make is that you should be in your softest sweatpants. You don't need to try to impress anyone, least of all me."
"I'm not," I grate out.
"Fine." She rolls her lips, drops her arms, and looks around. "Your condo's exactly what I expected. An absence of… almost everything."
She thought about what my living space would be like? That makes me tense. I look around, trying to see things from her perspective.
My place is concrete floors, steel appliances, and leather furniture in black and gray. No art on the walls. No rugs to soften the echo. The only color comes from the red light on the espresso machine and the green temperature display on the fridge.
She turns in a slow circle, taking it all in. Her mouth lifts into something between a smile and a wince. The fact that she doesn't seem to approve of my condo shouldn't mean anything to me, but it doesn't sit well. I don't have a lot of stuff, but everything's top of the line.
What could I possibly add that would make the space better? Nothing, I reason.
"Let's get this over with." I turn and head back toward my bedroom. "Guest room's down the hall. We'll have to share the bathroom."
She follows me, padding along in damp sneakers, looking at everything like she's cataloging evidence. We come to her temporary bedroom and I stop outside as she walks in. I feel suddenly conscious of how empty the room is. Just a bed with two white pillows and a lamp with a small LED bulb. The closet's empty. The nightstand drawer holds a spare phone charger and a Sudoku book.
That's it.
She lowers the duffel onto the bed and exhales like the shape of the room's pressing on her lungs. "Okay." Then softer, "I know you don't want anyone in your space, Silas. Ipromise to be as quiet and stay out of your way as much as possible."
"It's done now." I shrug, then wince. I shouldn't have tried to move my shoulder yet.
Scout's eyes cut to my right arm. "You're hurting."
"I'm fine."
"You're not." Her voice gentles. Not condescending. Not pitying. Just certain. She motions to the bed. "Sit. Let me make it hurt less."
"I said..."
Her eyes flash. "Silas, don't be so stubborn. Sit."
I should walk away. I don't. My legs carry me to the bed. I sit.
Scout's thumbs press into my shoulder blade. Heat shoots down my spine.
Everything goes rigid. Her fingers find the knot that's been bothering me all day. Small, strong, deliberate pressure through my shirt.
