He presses a thin, filmy square behind my ear, and in seconds, the world turns soft and a little fuzzy. The pain patches keep me from dissolving into tears every six hours, but I hate how they make me feel—like nothing matters anymore.
And then I’m moving. Alec wheels me into the living room, scoops me into his arms, and settles me on the couch with him. I don’t protest. Just let him do what he wants. Pick what we watch on TV. Decide when to pause Netflix and start to fool around—as much as I can without being able to walk.
And when the show’s over, I can’t remember what it was about, because all I want to do is sleep.
Chapter Three
Quinton
“Pancakes,”Alec announces as he sets the plate in front of me. “And your pills. Drink up, love.”
Every day, it’s the same dance. Pancakes. Pills. Alec’s overconfident smile. My sullen obedience. I hate this. Hate my life. Hate being trapped in this chair, in this condo, in this relationship.
What am I saying? Alec loves me. He takes care of me.
Get it together, Q. You need Alec. How the hell would you survive on your own?
Staring at the pills, I can’t remember what they’re all for, but I know I don’t want to take them. Alec nudges me again, and I pick up the glass of juice. A fine, white powder dusts a part of the rim. This...isn’t right. None of this is right.
“If he works hard at his physical therapy, there’s a chance he can regain most of his strength and muscle control.”
I can’t place the voice in my head. Is this a memory or just wishful thinking?
“He’s not ready to leave the hospital yet, Mr. Harrow. If you check him out now, the damage could be irreversible.”
“He’s coming home with me today,” Alec says. “I’m the only one who can take care of him.”
I swallow the Oxycontin with a sip of juice. My back is throbbing, and the pain zinging down my legs feels like that one time I stuck my finger in the light socket when I was six. Within a few minutes, the voices in my head: the doctors, Alec, someone else…my brother, I think…start to fade into nothingness. Replaced by a pounding that can only be a migraine starting. I never used to get them, but since the accident, they happen every couple of days.
“Who the fuck is that?” Alec mutters as he pushes back from the table, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
There’s someone here? This isn’t all in my head?
Alec’s voice carries from the door. “Go away. He doesn’t want to see you.”
Huh? Who’s he talking to? Though the Oxy is starting to make me a little light headed, I back my chair up, spin it around, and wheel myself towards the door.
“Quinton!”
“Connor?” My brother shoves his shoulder against the sleek, black wood and Alec stumbles back a couple of steps. He’s a big guy. Strong enough to lift me out of bed every morning, carry me to the couch at night, help me bathe…all the things I can’t do for myself. But he’s not as big as Connor. My brother has at least fifty pounds of muscle on Alec, and from the look in his eyes, he’s pissed as hell.
Connor sidesteps my boyfriend and drops down to one knee next to my wheelchair. “Quinton, you look awful.”
My eyes burn, and I reach out to hug him. “I’ve sent you a hundred messages,” I say quietly, barely able to control the emotion in my voice. “Where have you been?”
I don’t understand the shadow that passes over his face, but he stands and puts himself between me and Alec. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck out of my way. Quinton is coming with me, and you’re never going to contact him again.”
“What?” I ask. “Connor, Alec has been doing everything for me. I…need him.” Even as I say the words, something about them makes my stomach turn. I’m nauseous, my head hurts, and I don’t understand why the two of them are staring one another down like they’re about to kill each other.
“Everything?” Connor snorts. “The doctor wanted you in physical therapy five days a week. You haven’t been once!” He scans the living room, spies my laptop, and grabs it, along with the power cord, then shoves them into my lap. “Your chances of walking again? They were upwards of eighty percent when this asshole checked you out of the hospital. How many steps have you taken since then?”
“I…don’t know.”
Alec springs for my brother and lands a punch, but Connor doesn’t go down. Blood stains his lips, and he swears and wipes it away. “Is that the best you got?”
“Stop it! Both of you!” My words feel slow and unwieldy, and it’s like I’m seeing Connor through ten feet of water as he rounds my chair and starts pushing me out the door.
“Come at me again, and you’ll be the one in a wheelchair, asshole. You fucked with the wrong family.”
