When he’s near, I smile, laugh, and act as normal as possible. When he’s not, I can’t stop the unease that runs deep inside me. I worry I’ll never be active again. I worry that I’ve reached my highest level of healing with my disability. Mostly, I worry I’ll become a burden to him.
The pain has improved. Where it was a ten, it’s now an eight. I lied to Ben and the doctors, though. I told them it was a five. That was the only way they’d lessen my pain meds. The last thing I need is to become addicted. I have a very long haul ahead of me. It’s been five weeks since I was shot, and I’m only beginning my long, painful recovery. I can tolerate the pain most of the time. The worst is after I’ve had a physical therapy session. My leg throbs for hours. I reserve my pain meds for those times. Otherwise, I grin and bear it.
I’ve been working my ass off to strengthen my leg, and I still can’t walk unassisted. I’m now able to walk with the aid of forearm crutches, but even that is challenging. It’ll be years before I’ll be back in training for my black belt. The thought causes me such despair. I can’t focus on that. One day at a time. For now, I need to focus on walking and getting out of here.
I’m ready to be released. I’ve exhausted my therapy here at the hospital. My options are either to move into an assisted living facility or have the therapist come to me at home. I want to move to a facility, so I can work as many hours a day as I can, without interruption.
Ben has been fighting me tooth and nail.
He has taken an extended leave of absence and wanted to be home with me to care for me. With his help, he says I can take my treatments at a slower, more realistic pace. With his help, I can slowly recover.
His argument is tempting. Of course, I’d rather live with him than in a cold, clinical rehab center. Without a doubt, that is the best remedy for my heart. Is it the best for my recovery? That’s the issue I’m struggling with. I can’t continue to allow him to stay away from his job, his passion, just to nurse me back to health. I need to do this on my own, or my guilt will fester and become counterproductive to my recovery and our relationship.
He’s barely left my side. Except for quick trips back to a hotel room, that he never sleeps in, and a trip or two back to our apartments, he’s been here the whole time. Today, I’ve sent Ben to the store to pick up some things I need. With him gone, I was able to have an honest discussion with Brian. Putting Ben’s jealousy aside, I do trust Brian not to sugarcoat my progress. I didn’t elaborate on my two options. It’s none of Brian’s business whether I live in rehab or with Ben. I merely asked him if he felt my situation would improve with more therapy. In his professional opinion, he said it wouldn’t. What counted, at this point, was the quality of therapy.
Due to the nature of my injury, and the metal rod they inserted in my leg,it’s not the bone that would cause complications to my therapy. It’s muscle mass and tissue restoration that is preventing me from being able to bear weight on my leg. That kind of strength comes from consistent, productive exercising.
The irony that Brian unknowingly sealed Ben’s case is not lost on me.
The sight of Ben walking through my door causes my heart to flip in my chest. His hair is a touch longer than he normally wears it. His scruff is a bit heavier. Otherwise, he’s still my stunning, drop-dead gorgeous cop. His tight gray T-shirt stretches over his muscular chest. His jeans fit perfectly over his long legs, his hips, and his groin. I can stare at him for hours.
“Hey gorgeous,” he says with a smile. “It’s hot as fuck out there.” He drops the bags that he’s carrying and sits on the side of my bed. “I got you everything on your list except the tampons. I had no idea what I was doing. I assigned those to Andrea.”
“Too bad. You would have made a few unsuspecting females weak in the knees if they witnessed a hot stud like you buying tampons.”
“I’m only interested in making one unsuspecting female weak in the knees.”
“Well, mission accomplished, Superman,” I smirk while still ogling him.
After giving me a chaste kiss, he asks, “How was therapy?”
“Good.”
“Are you tired?”
“No.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re such a liar.” The smile falls from his face when he sees my frown. “What’s wrong?”
“So, um, I’ll be leaving in a few days. I discussed my therapy options with Brian.” I nervously play with the hem of his T-shirt. When I look up at him, he’s watching me intently. The only thing that gives him away is the clench in his jaw. “I need to ask you a question, but I need you to promise me you won’t be mad.”
“I’ll try,” he deadpans.
After a nervous swallow, I once again fiddle with the hem of his T-shirt. The clenching in his jaw returns, his eyes narrow as he continues to stare at me. “I asked him for advice. Whether he thought that I’d be better off living in a rehab facility, cramming in several hours a day of PT.” I look down quickly before continuing. “Or at home with one session a day.” I can tell by his groan that he concludes what my decision is. “So my question is…where will we live?”
He takes my hand, his expression softening. “Really?”
“Brian said consistent, productive therapy is all I need…and lots of patience.”
A lopsided grin spreads over his face. “Well, Brian is a smart man.”
“Oh, now he’s a smart man? You no longer feel the need to punch him in the face?”
“I never said that.” He kisses me again, and again. “Ella, are you sure? I’m selfish in my reasons to get you home.”
I nod confidently. “I’m sure. So, where will we live?”
He shrugs, but his smile tells me he knows exactly where. “I may have been thinking about the possibilities. But let me ask you a question. You’re sure you don’t want to go back to the city?”
“I’m sure. I love the city, but my heart is still at the beach. Wherever we do end up, there’s something else you need to promise me.”
“Anything.”
“You have to go back to work once I’m settled in a daily routine. Two weeks, maybe three, after that you go back.”
“If I get to come home to you every night and wake up next to you every morning, I’ll promise anything. I’ll wear that tutu and dance in the streets.”
“Careful, Superman. You may have to shave those legs with that promise.”
“It’d be worth it.”
He gives me one of his turn-my-pussy-into-a-volcano-about-to-erupt kisses, leaving me a heaving mess. It’s been too many very long, very frustrating weeks without Ben. I need him so badly. Except for occasional make-out sessions and some very heavy groping, we haven’t had sex in weeks. My fingers grip his shirt, pulling him closer. When he tries to break the kiss, I grip his head to keep him attached to me. It’s only until I run out of air that I finally allow the kiss to end.
He chuckles, asking, “Are you sure you aren’t making a decision based on horniness?”
I smack his chest, feigning anger. “No.”
“Well, even if you were, I still wouldn’t try to dissuade you. I can be a selfish prick sometimes.”
“Coincidentally, I love you and your selfish prick.”
He grins deviously while pointing to his crotch. “And we both love you.”
Our entwined hands are resting on his thigh. The traffic has been fairly light driving up through Jersey until we get into Manhattan. It’s stop and go, a typical drive on a workday. I love Manhattan, but now that I’ve gotten a taste of the beach, it’s where I want to be.
“Hey, do you know I’ve never driven in a car with you? Isn’t that weird?”
He glances at me quickly “We haven’t?”
“Nope, never. I like it.” I give our surroundings a once over. “Although this car sucks ass.”
“I apologize. The Bentley is in the shop.” He lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles. “It does suck ass, though. We’ll go car shopping as soon as you’re up to it. Are you comfortable? The shocks can’t be helping your leg.” I have my leg extended as best I can in the small space. He throws me the same look as he did when I refused to sit in the back seat. “Once we get home, we’ll elevate and ice it.”
“Home. That sounds so nice. So, now can you tell me where home is?”
He shakes his head. “Nice try. I want to surprise you.”
“How did you manage to get a place so quickly?” The way he continues to stare out the windshield, pretending to be concentrating on the road would work if we weren’t sitting at a red light. “Ben?”
“Promise you won’t be mad?”
“Uh oh.”
“I assigned Andrea and Rob the job of finding us the perfect place, just in case you decided on homecare.” At least he has the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “Wishful thinking, I guess?”
“Ben, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He flashes me a gorgeous smile. “Really? You’re not mad at me?”
“How can I be mad at that? In fact, you’ve scored some high points with this one.”
“Damn, I’m good.” He turns toward me with a smile and catches me in the middle of a huge yawn. “Okay, naptime. We have a ways to go. Put your seat back and go to sleep.”
All this driving has worn me out. Not bothering to argue, I do as he asks and settle in for the rest of the ride. “Yes, sir,” I say with another loud yawn. It’s not long before the motion of the car gently rocks me to sleep.
It feels like minutes later when a door slamming shut wakes me up. It’s still daylight, but barely. The sun is setting, and street lamps are just turning on. I have no idea where we are, but I can hear the waves and smell the ocean. I watch Ben come around to my side of the car. When he opens my door a few seconds later, he reaches in and lifts me out.
“Ben, I can walk. In fact, I should be walking.”
“Not this time.” He kicks my door shut and clicks the fob he holds in his hand.
The house is a small ranch, bungalow type with a one-car garage attached to the side. It has a fence running around the perimeter that disappears to the back of the house. It has white siding, blue shutters, very beach-like.
“Close your eyes. I’d do it for you, but my hands are full.” When I do, he adds, “No peeking.”
“Yes, sir.”
We climb a few stairs, he shifts me slightly to open a door, and after closing it behind him, he walks a few steps further before he says, “Okay, open.”
The minute I do, I gasp from the view. “Oh my God. Ben, this is incredible. Where are we?”
“Long Beach. We’re about a mile up the beach from Rob and Andrea’s place.” He turns me slowly. “Bedroom.”
It has a bay window with a built in window seat. It’s decorated in pale beiges and subtle grays. A huge bed faces the window. Otherwise, there isn’t any other furniture in the room. We walk through a door. “Bathroom.” The bathroom is quite large, modern, minimally decorated. The main focus is the shower for two. I smirk at him, and he shrugs. “I warned you that a large shower was a priority.”
“I remember.” Sitting in the corner of the stall is a small bench with handicap handrails built onto the sides. “You thought of everything.”
“I tried to.”
He turns us toward the bedroom and then into a short hallway that extends to the left and right. Directly in front of us is another door. He opens it slowly to reveal a small empty bedroom. “This is where we’ll set up your PT room.” Another bath sits at the end of the short hall, decorated similarly to the master bath. He walks us past the bedrooms and says, “Close your eyes again.”
A few seconds later he says, “Okay, open.” We stand in the center of a large, great room. It’s a combination of a family room, dining room, and kitchen. There’s a navy suede sofa that sits facing the sliding glass doors leading to a small deck. The house sits on the beach, gifting us an unfettered view of the ocean.
Behind the sofa is a square dining table with four upholstered chairs. Facing the view is a modern kitchen with white cabinets, stainless appliances, and a small island with a beige granite countertop sporting a breakfast bar. The flooring is made of a dark knotted pine and matches the beams in the ceiling.
It’s stunning.
He settles me on the chaise part of the couch and sits beside me.
“Ben, this place is amazing.”
“I know. I had a pretty long list. I can’t believe they found this. After about a million text messages and pictures from Andrea, when I saw it for myself, I instantly fell in love. It’s small, but perfect for us.” He kisses me gently and adds, “It’s also ours.”
“Ours?”
“I bought it.” He shrugs and adds, “Well, almost. We’re renting it for now. The closing is in a few weeks.”
I’m stunned silent. I can’t believe he did this.
“Ella?”
“Ben, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you love it and you’ll share it with me.”
“This had to have cost you a fortune.”
“I’ve wanted to move to the beach for a while now. I guess I never took the step because it’s meaningless to make such a move alone. Since meeting you, I’ve never been more positive. This is where I want to spend my time with you.” He searches my face and then frowns in doubt. “Ella, too soon? I know we only briefly talked about living together.”
“Ben.”
“Shit, I should have asked you first.”
“Ben.” I slip my fingers into his hair, holding his head still. “Shut up and kiss me.”
He concedes willingly. “Does that mean you like it?” he asks, once I end the kiss.
“I love it. I more than love it. Thank you.”
“We can change anything you want. I bought the basics. I’m sure there are things you want to bring from your apartment.”
“You did a perfect job. It’s just as I’d want to decorate it myself. You have good taste.”
He leans closer to kiss my lips. “I have amazing taste.” Somehow, I don’t think he’s talking about the house or the decorating. His eyes sear through mine. I haven’t seen this look on his face in weeks. It’s primal and needy…and then it’s gone as quick as it came.
Without warning he stands and says, “Don’t move.”
He leaves me alone and returns a few minutes later with our bags and my crutches. Silently he fumbles through my bag, finds my medication, and shakes a pill into his hand. After grabbing a bottle of water, he comes to sit beside me. “Take.”
I obey. The last thing I want to happen right now is to feel throbbing in my leg. I need him to take me into that bedroom, strip me down, and make love to me.
“Do you need another nap?”
“No.”
“What do you want to do?” He points to the TV and adds, “I picked up some sappy romance movies.” When he turns back toward me, his eyes become hooded as he watches me slowly unbutton my blouse. “No, Ella. Not yet. It’s going to be hard to maneuver with your leg brace.”
Wordlessly, I slip my sleeveless blouse off my shoulders and throw it onto the floor.
“We really should wait, Ella. I don’t want to hurt you.”
My bra is the next thing to hit the floor.
“Sweet Jesus, Ella.” His voice becomes raspy as he runs a hand through his hair.
His eyes shift to watch my hands unbutton my shorts and lower the zipper. When I try to shimmy them over my hips to the tops of my thighs, he watches open-mouthed, wide-eyed, and speechless.
“Are you going to help me? Or just sit there and watch?”
His response is to lift me and carry me to the bedroom.