Doing his best to avoid hitting her in the head, he pulled the crutches into the car, angled them behind her seat, then tucked them behind his own.
"Are we ready to go then?" She looked at him expectantly.
"Yes."
"Are you sure you don't want a jacket or a hoodie? It's cold out today."
Damon looked down at the goosebumps on his arms. He'd been so keyed up about having to ride with Grace that he'd forgotten to grab a sweatshirt. He wanted to insist he was fine, but he shivered despite the warm interior of her car.
The prosthetic place would likely be cold, like doctors’offices. Add to that, his anxiety over walking again with the help of the prosthesis and he could barely control his shivering.
"Would you like me to run back into the house and grab a hoodie for you?"
It was a good thing they rarely bothered to lock the door.
"Yes, please. There's a black one hanging behind the door in my bedroom. And grab my other tennis shoe on the bench by the door." He motioned to his foot, pointing out the one he already wore.
She was gone in a flash, returning with his shoe and a hoodie with the word ARMY across the chest in white lettering with a yellow outline. That wasn't the black one he meant, but he didn't have the heart to make her take it back. It wasn't until he'd pulled it over his head and fastened his seat belt that he realized it matched her hoodie. The one he had Maria leave on her doorstep after her mom passed away.
Giving him a stiff smile, Grace put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway. She cast several concerned looks his way as they got on the freeway.
“Are you okay?” The question was quiet, but it echoed like a gunshot in the car.
He looked out the window, studying the barren landscape. He didn’t need to search for threats behind every sagebrush, buthe couldn’t seem to shut off the part of his brain that said danger lurked around every corner.
Every unexpected sound made him want to take cover. Bright flashes of light made his heart leap to his throat. And then there were the nightmares.
His mom was worried about him, but after the fifth night of her showing up in his bedroom, he’d finally convinced her he was fine and there was nothing she could do for him. Or maybe he hadn’t convinced her, but at least she’d stopped hovering so much.
He hated the way he reacted to Grace’s entrance back at the house, but he couldn’t stop his brain from going haywire every time something startled him.
“I’m fine,” he said yet again with hardly any sharpness this time.
But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.
“You can talk to me about anything. You know tha?—”
"Thank you for driving me to my appointment." He cut her off. He didn’t want to talk to her about his problems. It was bad enough telling Emily how screwed up he was. He didn’t want Grace to feel like she had to help shoulder his burden.
Disappointment flashed across his face. "I'm happy to do it. Anytime. Seriously."
Quiet filled the car again, except for the low volume of the pop song on the radio. He was tempted to turn it up but knew it would make him look like a coward.
After a few more minutes of silence, he said, "I'm sorry, Grace."
She turned wide eyes on him for a moment before shifting her gaze back to the road. "For what exactly?"
"For snapping at you back there."
"It's okay. I guess I haven't been around you enough to realize how independent you are. You'd think I would have learned that lesson with my mom."
"I'm sorry about that too." His voice was low and remorseful.
"Thank you. I appreciated all your kind gestures.”
"No, I'm sorry I pulled away...and treated you so horribly while you were still dealing with the loss of your mother. I feel bad that you had to spend Christmas alone."
"I wasn't completely alone." She blinked rapidly. "But it wasn't the same."
