The girl, Melody, was a sweet thing. And after all that she went through, medically, she was surrounded by people who loved her and only breathed when they knew she would live. I wiggled my way into her life, because I knew she needed someone who may have been through what she had been through. The healing part, of course. To show her that even the darkest of demons never win and you could grow stronger. At least, that’s what I hoped I gave her.
So, when I was asked by her boyfriend or partner or lover or whatever you wanted to call him, to help her with rehab because no one else was working out, I couldn’t say no. And apparently she was more of a stubborn outpatient care patient than she had led me to believe.
Normally, side work doesn’t float my boat, but for a price and just being able to help a new friend, I didn’t turn down the opportunity. Plus, to know that she was safe with the man she called “Hound Dog”, and to see the devotion in his eyes, well it was good enough for me.
Every day with her seemed the same, and I did find some comfort in that. To know that nothing was going to happenoutside of the norm made it easier to come by. She didn’t have long; she was progressing better and I feared our time was coming to an end. Her mobility was up, she was compliant with her medications, and she made for an easy patient.
But the guard dog that greeted me each time I came to the house, he was another story.
I guess his feelings were hurt that Melody chose me for her care provider and not the tanned skin, muscular man that looked like he could split me in half, in any perspective. His dark beard caressed his face and his dark, almost black waves were tied in a bun with his sides shaved. He stood there like a strong, haunted protector. Sometimes I didn’t know if I was on his good side or bad side or any side.
If I was looking for a night of pleasure, I’d be jumping into his lap. At least, that’s what my body sang any time he was nearby. The way he just stared at me, watching my every movement. Oh boy, I was a helpless fool. But he would never know that. So, I’d continue to be the spastic, energetic woman that gave off the attitude of “you can’t handle this ride, big boy” and move on.
As I parked my old Ranger truck in the extended driveway, I was welcomed by the very same man’s presence, his arms folded, blocking the entry way. He watched every move, like I was walking into a den of wolves. Yet something stirred in me that almost teetered toward liking it. I shook off the thought and yet it still lingered.
“It’s been almost two months, do you really think you need to watch over me?” I asked, heaving my work bag over my shoulder. Shooter quirked an eyebrow up, his heated eyes never leaving my sight. “You know you don’t have to be mad that she chose me over you? I know you’re this big medic man or whatever but no need to be mad.”
It was the same argument we had every day. I must’ve been brave or stupid or both because I kept hoping for a differentresponse, to poke that bear. But that day, he really shocked me. “And miss the chance to see your beautiful face? Never.”
A rush of heat went in every direction. From my cheeks to the very needy part of me that shouldn’t like it. Shooter was someone I couldn’t want nor need in my life. But he could fill the deepest fantasies that I would keep to myself.
I brushed off the compliment or pick up line, whatever you want to call it. “Careful, Shooter, someone might think you’re being nice to me.”
I stepped closer, and he released his arms. “Maybe I am.” There was a small, playful smirk on his face.
Oh, he was playing with fire.
“Well, you saw my face, so you’re not needed here.” I shrugged, brushing past him. Though I could feel his eyes following me through the front door. It was the deep chuckle that made me shiver.
His banter made it normal for me, comforting me and giving me something to look forward to.
A wave of something sweet and mouthwatering filled my senses. Then another wave of spices and something savory swirled around the other aroma. I knew where my patient was and I was completely okay with that.
My stomach, on the other hand, turned into a needy bitch and grumbled from the door. I couldn’t remember when I ate last, but knowing Melody, she wasn’t going to let me go hungry.
Sure enough, she was humming along to something in her head, swaying side to side like she was lost in her own world. The only thing missing was her man, Hound Dog, gawking at her like she was the only thing in his world. Almost smitten. She had that man wrapped around her little finger.
She wanted to work on standing in the kitchen for a longer period without getting winded. She was a strong woman, justneeded someone to sit her ass down and comply with medical directions and help her as much as possible.
Before I could step forward in the kitchen, she stopped humming and cleared her throat. “There is a bowl of chili and cheese on the island and if you finish that, you can have some of these snicker-doodles that I just pulled out of the oven.”
She was like a damn magician. “Funny, it sounds like my patient is trying to take care of me instead of letting me do my job,” I protested, although it wasn’t going to work. I had at least this week left with her and then I would return to a life I wasn’t wanting to go back to.
“Even funnier if you think that’s supposed to stop me from taking care of my friend,” she noted in her sweet little voice, pouring a bowl of chili for herself, as she sat next to me at the island.
I hummed at the word friend. Call it trust issues or the fact that I didn’t let people in so easily. I guess it was intuition, waiting to see if this person was trustworthy enough, or would they just walk away or take what wasn’t given to them. Melody was the unique factor. She seemed to be the only other friend other than my nurses at work.
I took a few bites of her white chicken chili, and it felt like home. The warm spices and hearty flavor was like a warm hug. While she ate, I took it upon myself to perform a small examination, looking at the scar tissue, having her lift her arms, and getting her to bend over. It wasn’t that she was completely immobile, but the height of her injuries meant that there needed to be extra time for rest and slight movement.
I rolled up my sleeves, letting my arms breathe. I got up to move around the stool and check her spine, but Melody grabbed my hand.
“If you wanted to hold my hand, all you had to do was say something.” I chuckled, but she gripped it tighter.
I looked to see her saddened eyes turned back to me, it took me a moment to realize what she actually saw. I quickly pulled my sleeve down, hiding the evidence from a couple of days ago. My burden to bear, my problem to solve.
“Mia,” she started to whisper, knowing that no one else knew what was happening. “Tell me that wasn’t from him.”
I shook my head, trying to hide the truth that the hand print shaped bruise was from my ex-husband that won’t sign the damn papers because he put everything else in my name with his, so his problems and debts were mine. “Okay, I won’t.”
