Healing His Heart Page 2

  As I picked up the plates and napkins, dug through boxes for the garbage bags, and generally neatened up the pizza mess, I cursed myself for lying. Why did I say that? Why had I told him that they’d paid for me to stay round the clock?

  They wouldn’t. I was supposed to be there for six hours per day, at a time mutually agreed upon by the patient and myself. Not twenty-four hours. I’d decided as I got ready this morning to bring my overnight stuff because I knew damn well Tyler shouldn’t be staying alone. I didn’t have anything else going on in life, no significant other, my parents were boring as hell. There was no reason I couldn’t stay with Tyler and help him out. It cost me nothing. So, why had I lied?

  What if he didn’t want me to stay? What if his parents didn’t like the idea? My insecurity had hit me like a freight train as soon as the moment came to volunteer to stay instead of telling him the insurance had approved it.

  I’d have to find a way to gracefully extract myself. Maybe once he was settled in and the dog arrived, I’d say the insurance changed and I could only do six hours a day. Then I could volunteer to stay like I’d planned to before.

  When the kitchen was spotless again and Tyler still hadn’t emerged from the shower, I went to the door to check on him. “You okay in there?” I called.

  No answer.

  “Tyler?” I called as I cracked the door open. “You okay?”

  He was slumped back on his shower chair, inches from falling out of it. “Tyler,” I yelled, running into the room and putting my hand behind his neck.

  Reaching over, I couldn’t reach the handle to turn off the shower. I laid Tyler’s head gently on the back of the shower stall again and turned the faucets off, then went back to him. It only took me seconds, and by the time I looked at his face again, he was coming around.

  I tried to figure out how long it had been since I’d left him to shower while I cleaned. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but if his seizure had lasted that whole time, he’d need to have some scans done.

  Tyler moaned and his eyes focused on me. “Not again,” he moaned.

  “Sorry, Duckie.” I used the pet name I’d come up with for him. I’d never in a million years tell him why I called him Duckie. When he’d initially come into the hospital, he’d gotten a bit of gas, probably from the breathing tube he’d had at first. He’d started farting, and they sounded like ducks quacking.

  “You’re okay,” I said softly as I grabbed a towel, hanging on the rack behind me. Twisting my arm, I flapped the towel out so Tyler could have some modesty. In the moment, his body naked body didn’t even register, even with as much as I’d been thinking about it.

  “Come on.” I hoisted him up, getting myself soaked as he leaned on me.

  “I’m sorry.” Poor guy. He sounded so miserable. “I’m getting you so wet.”

  “I’ll dry.” And this proved exactly why I needed to be there all the time. What if he tried to take a shower when he was alone? He might’ve slipped into the water and drowned or cracked his head open when falling. No way I could leave him now. “Let’s get you settled and see if we need to go have the doc check you out.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “I don't feel any different than I did before.”

  “Do you know when it started, by chance?” If I could pinpoint that it had been less than three minutes, we wouldn’t have to go to the hospital.

  “I got washed.” He shrugged as we entered his packed bedroom. “And rinsed. I was about to turn off the water, then that’s all I remember until you woke me up.”

  He sank down onto the bed. “I feel fine. Probably could’ve walked myself in here.”

  “I know, but better safe than sorry.”

  I busied myself finding his pajamas in all the boxes of clothes.

  “Try that one,” he said, pointing to a large suitcase in the corner. “I think that’s the clothes we brought from my parents’ house. It’s my mom’s suitcase.”

  He was right, it was full of his clothes. “Jackpot,” I called as I dug out underwear and pajamas.

  I grabbed a pair of fuzzy pants and looked closer at them as I stood. “Are these the Golden Girls?” Laughing, I handed him the pile of clothes.

  “Don’t you judge me,” Tyler replied with a big grin. “That’s an excellent show.”

  I nodded and turned my back. “I’ll just hang out here until you’re dressed.”

  I heard him rustle a bit before he replied. “You can turn around now.”

  Turning back to help him stand, my jaw dropped. He was just in his underwear. “Uh, don’t you want to put the pajamas on?”

  “Not to sleep in. I prefer sleeping in just my undies. Unless that makes you uncomfortable?”

  “Not at all.” Totally. But in a good way. “Why do you have pajamas then?”

  “To wear around the house. You know, binge-watching days, after I get home from work, that sort of thing.”

  Made sense. “Well, your mom made the bed after the guys installed it, so you’re good to go.”

  “What about you?” he asked as he scooted back and slipped between the blankets. “I feel bad that I don’t have a proper bed for you to sleep in. I’d offer for you to sleep here, but I might be tempted to cuddle in my sleep.” Tyler winked at me, his cute button of a nose crinkling up. Damn it.

  “I’d be tempted myself,” I said, surprising myself. I wasn’t good at flirting. The only thing I knew how to do was nurse. Care. My mom said I was like a mother hen clucking around everyone.

  Tyler smiled, his eyes already closing. It was early, only around four, but I knew he’d be asleep all night. As time passed, he’d start sleeping more like a normal person. “Goodnight,” I whispered as I closed the door.

  I probably should’ve taken his blood pressure. Shoot. Running to my bag, I grabbed the small, mobile cuff and went back in. I wasn’t sure if Tyler had always been a deep sleeper, but he barely registered me putting the cuff around his wrist. I had to be careful with this one, it liked to be inaccurate if not positioned just right. Twisting it and watching carefully, I was pleased with the reading.

  The hit and run had left Tyler a complete mess. He’d had internal bleeding, a ruptured spleen, broken ribs, a broken leg. Of course, a concussion. A skull fracture and plenty of lacerations. By the time he’d woken up, most of those things had healed, but his muscle deterioration was a bitch. It would all come back, but in the meantime, he could throw a clot, get an infection, or one of his seizures could cause him to backslide, and his recovery would go to shit.

  I had to make sure that didn’t happen. I’d lost a patient early in my career, thanks to insurance not approving the proper care. If she’d had the MRI she’d needed, they would’ve seen the infection deep in her bone. She’d be alive today. I couldn’t let it happen again. Tyler wasn’t ready to be on his own.

  3

  Tyler

  “But, if I’m doing well, why do I have to go to the doctor?” I’d argued with Patrick from the moment I’d woken up this morning. We’d been in the house for nearly a week and I hadn’t left in all that time. Not that I minded. Mostly I’d been sleeping, watching television, and helping Patrick unpack and organize my stuff.

  I’d figured it would bother me to see someone else with their hands all over my stuff, but not really. I didn’t mind Patrick. He obviously cared about my things and checked with me before doing much. His respect for my personal possessions earned him a lot of points.

  “Because if you don’t stop arguing with me, I’m going to starve you,” he replied as he came back in the door. He’d just taken my wheelchair to his car. The walk down the stairs would have to be all me—with his help, of course—but from the car to the doctor’s office would be quite a ways. I’d need to be pushed.

  “You can’t starve me. You enjoy cooking too much.” We’d learned a lot about each other in the near-week we’d been living together. He was a neat freak, which was fine by me, because I was, too.

  “Well, I’ll d
o something bad. You have to go to the doctor.” He walked over to me. “Ready? I’ve got everything we need, I think.”

  “I guess. If you’re insisting we go.”

  “I’m insisting. Oh,” he said with an evil grin. “I’ll call your mother if you don’t go.”

  Shuddering, I turned toward the door. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. You win.”

  “I always win,” he said smugly.

  I hadn’t tried to go down the stairs yet. “What’s the best way, do you think?” I asked Patrick as I looked down the staircase. It was such a long way down.

  “I could go one step behind you?” He squeezed my arm. “Or you hold the banister and I’ll hold you.”

  “Banister, I think.”

  I leaned on the railing as much as I could, to save Patrick’s back. He was freaking strong for such a small guy, but for Pete’s sake, he was like half my damn size. I wasn’t totally sure what he’d do if I did tumble down the stairs. No way he could catch me. We’d both be screwed.

  Luckily for our continued unbroken bones, we made it to the bottom without incident. “I’ve got news for you,” Patrick said, and I didn’t like his tone of voice. “You’re going to start going down and back up the stairs once a day.”

  “Oh, you’re freaking evil,” I grumbled as he opened the car door for me. An autumn breeze swept past us, and I sucked in a deep breath. “This is the best time of year,” I said, closing my eyes and facing the sun. “Maybe coming down and spending a few minutes in the sun would feel pretty good.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Patrick stood beside me and stretched. “This is my favorite time of year, but get in the car. We’ve got to get going.”

  We had to drive to Bend, to visit the neurologist that had overseen my care since the accident. No sense in changing now.

  The drive to Bend was boring but comfortable. Patrick was easy to talk to. We discovered a mutual love of pop music.

  “I love to sing, but I’m terrible at it,” he said as he navigated the winding road between Three Lakes and Bend.

  I looked at him with wide eyes. “Me, too!”

  Taking over the radio dial, I found an upbeat song I knew and began singing, testing out to see if my horrible voice would run him off or not. At least it was some entertainment in a sea of trees.

  It didn’t totally offend him, as it turned out. Because his voice was worse than mine. “Oh, you truly are terrible.”

  We laughed and talked all the way to the hospital. I sighed and looked up at the building as Patrick got the wheelchair out. Steeling up my resolve, I got myself out of the passenger seat. I wasn’t totally helpless, just had no stamina. “This sucks,” I said as I settled into the wheelchair.

  “I know. But it’s temporary. A trial to make you stronger.”

  “You’re full of those sayings. Do you memorize them or something?”

  “You don’t know my life.” He pushed me into the building and to the right, toward the hospital office buildings.

  The visit passed without incident. “I told you.” We walked out of the office two hours later, well, I rolled out. “There was no dang reason for me to come today.”

  “You learned that you’ve got a seizure warning. That’s good enough reason for me.”

  “Maybe. We don’t know for sure.” Right before the seizure I’d had in the shower, I’d gotten intensely nauseated. The doctor said that was a common sign of pending seizure.

  “Fine, then you got out of the house and the bit of movement has helped increase your stamina and get you back to where you should be.”

  “I’ll give you that.” He got me in the car and loaded the wheelchair. “Let me buy you dinner,” I said as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

  “Like a date?” He chuckled and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

  “If I wanted to ask you on a date, no damn rule would stop me, I can promise you that. What sounds good?”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what I said wrong, but Patrick shut down after that. He wasn’t as animated or talkative. We decided on Mexican and pulled through a popular fast-food chain that had the best tacos known to man. Then, of course, we had to argue about what was the best fast food taco chain.

  By the time we got home, I was in a great mood, but I was totally wiped out. Exhausted didn’t begin to cover how tired I was. As I started up the stairs, I tried not to get discouraged.

  “Come on,” Patrick said, ceaselessly optimistic and upbeat. “We got this.”

  He went up behind me, both hands on my back. Halfway up, it felt like my legs were going to totally give out. “Hey, it’s all good. Stairs are a natural step. Let’s rest a minute.”

  Patrick pulled me down beside him, and I put my head on my knees until my breathing slowed and my legs stopped burning. Patrick rubbed slow circles on my back. “Okay,” I finally said. “I’m ready.”

  “You’re doing great.” Patrick stood and held out his hand, helping me up. Pulling me up, really. I was able to make the last few stairs without too much help, and taking the top stair felt like a huge victory.

  “Tomorrow it’ll be easier,” he said as we turned toward the door to the apartment. “‘Cause you’ll be fresh and…” His voice trailed off. “Tyler, I would swear I locked this door before we left.”

  The door was cracked open. It didn’t look damaged at all. “Well, even if you didn’t lock it, I know damn well you closed it.”

  Patrick pushed it open and peered inside. “Nobody in the kitchen or living room.” He shot me a worried look. “But I can’t see the bathroom or bedroom.” He shrugged. “Call Brady?”

  Pressing a finger to my lips, I stood and listened. When I didn’t hear anything, I stepped into the apartment and sat down on the couch. It was either that or go back out and sit on the stairs. My legs were too weak to stand for much longer.

  Once I was seated, I texted anyone that might’ve come into the apartment. The only two that would’ve without me being there was my mom or Daisy. They both replied immediately and indicated they hadn’t been by.

  “It wasn’t mom or Daisy.”

  “Okay,” Patrick said, inching toward the bedroom. He moved slowly and checked out both rooms. “Nobody.”

  “Lock the door,” I said. “That’s creepy.”

  I watched Patrick move toward the door and thought about what it would be like to date him. He was far more feminine than I was, and I had my moments of extra-gayness.

  Even though I hadn’t really been in any significant relationships in a while… A long while… Like, ever. I’d always been attracted to more of a bear look. Big, burly, ultra-masculine.

  Why did my eyes, then, keep straying back to the petite, redheaded Patrick?

  Probably lonely. And horny. Definitely the latter.

  "We're safe now." He sat down beside me, concern written all over his face. "Are you okay?"

  I gave him a bewildered look. "Why wouldn't I be okay? This is Three Lakes, not the middle of New York City. If someone did come in here, they probably watered my plants and dusted."

  "Well, I mean, you were hit by a car. That's pretty scary stuff."

  He patted my knee and walked into the kitchen. "Why don't you give Brady a text?"

  He'd been with me in the hospital so long he'd gotten to know my friends and family a bit. My mom absolutely loved him. At least if I did decide to give in to my curiosity and ask him on a date, I knew my family would be okay with it. I'd never experienced introducing my family to a boyfriend. I'd never gotten that far into a relationship.

  I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text to Brady. Patrick was right, better safe than sorry. He replied in seconds. On my way.

  "He's coming."

  "Good." He unloaded the bag of tacos and brought me a tray full. "Sit here and rest a minute."

  Brady knocked on my door about the time I finished my tacos. "Come in," I called.

  "No, don't!" Patrick jumped up from the table, m
outh full of tacos. "Who is it?"

  "It's Brady. Why are you freaking out?"

  "Brady," he said through the door.

  "Are you sure it's him?" Patrick asked me with a worried twist of his lips.

  Laughing, I shook my head at him, hovering by the door. "It's him. Open the door."

  Brady walked in looking around, as if the intruder would jump out and say, "Boo!" at any moment.

  "Come in," I repeated. "Thanks for coming, but it's probably not a big deal."

  "I disagree," Patrick said with a sniff. "After what you went through, anything strange is a big deal."

  "He's right." Brady walked into the bedroom. He came out seconds later. "Anything missing?"

  "Honestly, I haven't even looked around, but nothing appears disturbed." I shrugged. "It just didn't seem like that big of a deal."

  "Well, I'll dust the door, see if I get anything from that."

  "I'm sure we didn't touch the handle," Patrick said. "If that helps. When we got here and noticed the door was cracked, I just pushed it open somewhere in the middle."

  "Good. I'll send the rookie over. He needs the practice. In the meantime, are you sure you locked it?"

  Patrick nodded. "As sure as I can be. I suppose it's possible I didn't, but I always lock the door at home, why wouldn't I here?"

  Brady nodded. "Yeah, but stranger things have happened."

  "Okay, so what do we do in the meantime?" I asked.

  "I'll wait here with you," he said. "Mainly I just don't want the door touched. I was careful when I opened it." He waved a glove. "Used this."

  "Tacos?"

  "Yes, here," Patrick scurried over to the kitchen. I'd noticed he was very comfortable playing host. "There's plenty."

  He plated a couple of tacos and set them on the table. "Sit."

  "Tyler, if you feel up to it, can you look around and see if anything is missing?"