I was going to be the man who stood in front of her.
Chapter Three
Britta
Getting dressed should not feel like a full-contact sport.And yet… here we were.
I sat on the edge of my bed, shoulders slumped, breathing a little heavier than I should have been for someone who had just successfully put on a T-shirt and leggings.My right arm hung slightly away from my body, careful, guarded, like it had a mind of its own now and didn’t trust me not to mess things up.
My shoulder throbbed.Not sharp like it had the first few days.Not that white-hot, make-you-see-stars kind of pain.
This was deeper.A dull, constant reminder that yeah, I’d been shot.Still rude.
I stared down at my hands resting in my lap and let out a long breath.
Eight days ago, I could get dressed in two minutes flat.
Now it took me fifteen, a pep talk, and at least one internal argument with myself about not throwing the shirt across the room and giving up.
“Wow.”
I looked up.
My mom leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, one brow raised like she’d just walked in on something mildly concerning but not surprising.“You look like you need a ten-hour nap,” she said, “not like you just woke up.”
I laughed, but it came out flat.“I’ll be fine.”
She didn’t move.Didn’t smile.Just studied me in that way moms did when they were cataloging every possible thing that could go wrong and deciding which one to worry about first.
“You sure you don’t want to stay here a little longer?”she asked gently.“Until you’re… better?”
I shook my head immediately.“No.”Too fast.Too firm, but I didn’t take it back.
Her lips pressed together slightly, and I could tell she didn’t like it.
She didn’t argue, though.That was the thing about my mom.She raised me to make my own decisions even when she didn’t agree with them.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m making a terrible life choice.”
Her mouth twitched.“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” I shot back.“It’s your fault, you know.”
She blinked.“My fault?”
“Yeah,” I said, gesturing vaguely with my good hand.“You raised me to be independent.This is on you.”
That earned me a real laugh.
She pushed off the doorframe and walked into the room, shaking her head.“Well,” she said as she sat down beside me on the bed, “I know you’re going to be fine.”Her hand came down on my leg in a soft pat.“But I can still be worried.”
My shoulders softened a little at that.“I’m not going to be alone,” I said.“Tyson lives in the same building.He’s literally down the hallway.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
