Chapter Twenty-One

His eyes were heavy, and the crackling fire in the hearth had a rhythm to it that lulled him into sleep. But his back was beginning to ache, too, and when he began to shift his weight on the sofa and grimace, Cameron caught the expression on his face. “You need to move,” he said, putting his mug down on the coffee table. “You can’t sleep on there. It’s not supportive enough for your back.”

Dax sat up carefully. There was a dull throb that traveled from his spine to the tips of his toes. He was exhausted. Right now, the idea of being back in the hospital in London seemed like a better idea. The relaxed spell he was under just moments earlier was broken, and he gritted his teeth to stop himself crying out from the pain.

But Cameron was right there, propping him up on the couch into a sitting position and even feeling his forehead to check he didn’t have a temperature. Dax knew why he did this. Even though his recovery was going well, even the slightest infection could take hold so much faster when his body wasn’t moving and he’d been in the sterile conditions of the hospital for the last eight weeks.

“You need to stay here for a few minutes and rest,” Cameron said, and he stood up from the sofa. “I’m going to take everything upstairs, and I’ll make the bed up.”

“I have to climb stairs?” Dax asked, weakly.

“I’m afraid so,” Cameron replied. “I promise you’ll be fine. Now hang on and don’t worry. I won’t be long.”

Dax was so incredibly tired that the idea of climbing stairs was excruciating. He hadn’t gone up a single flight since his accident, and he wasn’t sure his brain would remember the cognitive function needed to lift one leg and then the other. He and Cameron had practiced it a little in the treatment room, stepping up just once, then going back down, but his legs never seemed to go the way he wanted them to. He tried not to panic simply at the thought of the task, and he closed his eyes and took some deep breaths.

Back in LA, he’d been a regular at a local yoga class. For one, it was a great place to sit and look at hot guys in all kinds of positions, and it also bore some excellent relaxation techniques. He liked to get up early on a Sunday morning after a heavy night of booze and sex, sitting in a swelteringly hot steam room, where he took deep breaths and moved his body as the instructor commanded, sweating out the alcohol and loosening his muscles.

As he sat on the couch, every muscle in his body aching, he tried to recall the breathing exercises he’d done many times, and he took in breaths through his nose, letting them out slowly through his mouth. Concentrating on the rise and fall of his chest and stomach meant that he wasn’t looking at his watch, wondering what was taking Cameron so long. He heard the creak of wooden floorboards above his head, and heard several strange-sounding clunks, as though Cameron was shifting an elephant up there.

Finally, he heard footsteps on the stairs and Cameron appeared in the lounge, a little breathless. “I’ve put your cases and everything in my room,” he said. “I was going to put you in the spare room but there’s only a single bed in there, so I’ll take that. I’ve made up the double, so whenever you’re ready, we’ll move.”

Dax rolled his shoulders and moved his neck from side to side, and then he pushed himself up from the sofa. Cameron was there in a flash, his strong arms under Dax’s armpits. Dax moved to the side and Cameron was right there behind him, and between them they limped gingerly out of the lounge and into the hallway. At the foot of the stairs, Dax held onto the banister and took a few deep breaths.

“You’re doing great,” Cameron said. “Think of this as the exercise program we didn’t go through this morning.”

With gritted teeth, Dax lifted his left foot onto the bottom step, followed by his right, so that they were together. He’d take one step up. Only twelve more to go, he realized, as he looked ahead of him into the dim light of the ascending staircase, counting each wooden step as he went.

There was a thin, threadbare carpet running up the center, with a pattern of white, faded flowers. He chose to concentrate on one of those flowers at a time, aiming his big toe on the largest of the flowers, so that he didn’t have to think about how his body was screaming at him to give up and flop down. On the fifth step, he paused, breathing heavily. “Can we take a break?” he asked.

Cameron stood on the steps with him, holding him up. “You’re nearly halfway there,” he said. “If you sit down now, I’m worried you won’t get back up. I promise that if you can just get to the top of the stairs now, then we’ll skip tomorrow’s exercises and you can sleep in as long as you like.”

It seemed like a good deal, but Dax wasn’t sure he had the energy simply to climb seven stairs. He lifted his leg up, but he didn’t lift it high enough, and he stumbled on the lip of the next step. Cameron was there in a flash, steadying him. “I won’t let you fall,” he said firmly. “Let me take your weight. Slowly does it.”

“This is ridiculous,” Dax said. He wanted to cry, and he was frustrated by his own limitations for what must have been the millionth time since the accident. But Cameron was as good as his word, and the therapist practically lifted him up the steps until, mercifully, they cleared the last one. Dax saw that the wheelchair was already there, and with relief he turned around and sat in it. Cameron wheeled him across the wooden floorboards to the bedroom.

There was a slight, musty smell in the room, thanks to it having been closed up for so long. It was too late and too cold to air the place that night, so for now, Dax would have to put up with it. The room was large, without much furniture. There was a large bed made of iron, and on it lay a thick mattress covered with a heavy blue duvet and several pillows. Dax had never been happier to see a bed in his life, and Cameron helped to lift him out of the chair so that he perched on the edge of the bed and Cameron lifted his feet up so he could turn around and lean against the pillows.

The relief was immediate, and he let out a loud groan. Cameron grinned. “Worth it, right?” he asked.

“I’m never doing that again,” Dax said. “Leave me up here. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I don’t have any catheters on hand, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get up at some point to use the bathroom,” Cameron said cheerfully. “But don’t worry. You won’t have to go downstairs. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall.”

“What time is it?” Dax asked. Cameron looked at his watch.

“It’s nearly two,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “No wonder you’re tired. Now, let’s get you undressed.”

Dax blushed, and swallowed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I’m fine. I’ll just sleep like this tonight. I’m too tired to get undressed right now.”

Cameron nodded. “No problem,” he said. “I know you’ve had a long day.”

“I’m sorry I’ve had to kick you out of your room,” Dax said. “It’s really good of you to let me have this one.”

He looked around, taking in the wardrobes, the antique chest of drawers, the huge mirror, and the opulent light fitting over his head. The light wasn’t switched on; instead there was a warm glow in the room that came from the small lamp beside his bed. He strained his ear, but could hear nothing at all. Everywhere was so quiet and peaceful. He looked up at Cameron. “Thank you,” he said.

“Oh, it’s fine, I often sleep in the spare room if I have guests,” Cameron said, checking Dax had enough support from the pillows behind his head.

“I don’t just mean for the room,” Dax said. “I mean for letting me come here at all. It must be really inconvenient for you.”

Cameron grinned. “I just can’t wait to tell everyone at the pub that I’ve got Dax Monroe in my bed,” he said. Then he turned around quickly, and walked to the door. He looked back at Dax. “Sweet dreams.”

He walked out and closed the door behind him, and Dax was alone for the first time all day. The last few words rung in Dax’s head. Had Cameron really made a joke about having him in his bed? He’d seemed awkward about making the comment and had left the room pretty quickly. Maybe that was the reaction of a straight guy who’d just realized that he’d made a joke that could have been interpreted awkwardly.

Or maybe he’d slipped up and let out something he hadn’t yet revealed to Dax at all. Dax didn’t have any time to think about it, though, because as his whole body relaxed for the first time that day, he closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.