Chapter Nine

If I have to sit through one more fucking episode of this shit I’ll kill myself.

I grab the remote and switch channels. French daytime TV is worse than every other country put together. I can’t even understand the shit and I know it’s bad. I settle on what I think is a talk show. France’s answer to Jeremy Kyle.

Pushing the sheets off me, I slither to the side of the bed and let my feet fall over the edge. My toes touch the cold floor and I sigh. Just feeling the ground beneath me is fucking amazing.

Apparently I have a few more days of being bedridden before I can attempt to move around. But I decide fuck that, because I’m so much more qualified than my team of doctors and physiotherapists. Besides, it’s been ten days now. It was bad enough pissing in a bottle, there’s no way I’m going to take a dump in a bedpan and then hand it to my mother to clean up.

No. Fucking. Way.

Using my hands, I push myself into somewhat of an upright position. I hold my breath, trying hard to ignore the excruciating pain that’s radiating up my back. In the back of my mind I know this is a bad idea, but that doesn’t stop me from pushing myself off the bed and onto my unsteady feet.

“Fuuuuck,” I growl, just managing to grab hold of the back of the chair for support.

“Ryder, what the hell are you doing?” Hailey appears out of nowhere. She couches beside me, her expression panicked. “What should I do?” she cries, resting her hand on my back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Taking her hand, I swivel my body around, just far enough for me to collapse face down onto the bed. Fucking ouch!

“What the hell were you doing?” she asks, breathless. I mutter an incoherent response into my pillow as she helps me lift my legs back onto the mattress. “What if you had slipped? I’m home alone. There is no way I could’ve helped you up.”

“I was trying to get to the toilet,” I mutter, easing myself onto my side.

Fuck. I was so frustrated. I was sick and tired of lying on this damn bed. I was sick of being looked after. I was sick of being stuck in a country where I couldn’t even watch the damn TV. I was sick of everything.

“You should have called out for me. I would’ve helped you with a pan.” She speaks softly. Great. She feels sorry for me.

“You’re my kid sister. I refuse to let you help me,” I say flatly.

She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. “You have a better idea? Because doing it yourself worked out so great for you,” she adds sarcastically.

“Hailey,” I growl, my face flushing. “Just go.”

She storms out of the room only to return a few minutes later with a pan.

“Wait, no,” I protest as she rolls me further onto my side so she can position it under me. I sigh, defeated.

“Ryder, I want to be a nurse. Think of this as training for me,” she says with a shrug.

“You want to be a nurse?” I repeat, shocked. Why didn’t I know that? “Why would anyone want to do this for a living?” I grumble, yanking the blankets back over me.

“Because some people, like me, get satisfaction out of helping others. But you wouldn’t understand what that feels like, would you?” she adds sweetly.

I narrow my eyes at her. She pokes out her tongue and prances out of the room.

I’ll never tell her to her face, but I’m proud of her. She knows what she wants out of life and she’s going for it. To follow your heart takes a lot of guts.

Something I don’t have.

**

With my laptop sitting on the bed beside me, I plug her name into my newly acquired Skype account and press search. There it is. I click on her profile and add her as a contact.

Next, I find myself scouring Facebook for all the Scarlett Caleras. So, I’m stalking her now? I laugh as I realize I probably passed the definition of stalking a while ago.

Once again I find myself thankful for her unusual surname. There is only one profile that fits her name and location. It has to be her. Without friending her, all I have access to is her profile pic, but that is more than enough.

My heart is pounding as I stare at her. She is stunning. Immediately, I’m drawn to her eyes. They are a deep emerald, surrounded by long, dark lashes. Her thick, dark hair is brushed over one shoulder as she crouches down, her arms wrapped around the neck of a little boy. Jake. He looks so much like his mum, and the smile on her face shows me just how much her means to her.

The next thing I know, my laptop starts ringing. Fuck, she’s calling me? My heart races as I press answer. I feel underprepared to speak to her and I have no idea why.

Why the hell am I so damn nervous?

“You’ve joined the age of technology,” she giggles.

“I have,” I confirm, smiling. “Now I get to talk to you and stare at a blank screen.”

That’s a lie. I’m still staring at her Facebook profile.

She laughs. “I can see you.”

“You can? That’s not really fair, is it?” I say with a grin. What’s she thinking? I’m wishing I’d taken the time to shave now. I resist the urge to straighten my hair, which is ridiculous. She already knows what I look like.

“No, I guess it’s not. Hold on a sec.”

I wait, listening to the muffled sounds of her fiddling with her computer, when suddenly my screen lights up. Her smiling face grins back at me and I realize the photo doesn’t do her justice. Her long, dark brown hair is pulled back in a messy bun. Her huge green eyes twinkle as she smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“That better?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Better,” I murmur, nodding.

She laughs, pink spreading onto her cheeks. “So, you’re really Ryder Stevens. I wasn’t expecting to feel so . . . I don’t know.”

“Overwhelmed? Honoured? Excited?” I quip, amused.

She laughs again. The sound makes me smile.

“Get over yourself,” she scoffs. She bites her lip, her pretty eyes narrowing at me. “You’re not that big a deal, Mr Stevens.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I grin.

“You’re hanging out with the wrong people then. So, two calls in one day. I feel special.”

“Hey, you called me this time, remember?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” She blushes, and I laugh.

I could spend my whole day talking to you.

Which is probably just a testament to how bored I am.

“It feels kind of strange actually seeing you,” she admits. I know exactly what she means. Compared to talking on the phone, this feels so much more intimate.

“I’m happy to be able to place the voice with a face,” I say, my lips curving into a grin. She blushes again, and I laugh again. “I just mean, you’ve known all along what I look like. It’s nice to be able to see you too.”

“I hope I’ve met your expectations,” she jokes as she rolls her eyes.

“You’ve exceeded them,” I murmur. I laugh as her face goes bright red. I decide to let her off the hook and change the subject. “I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you or anything, but I’m looking at your Facebook profile right now. Mind if I add you?”

“I’d love for you to add me,” she grins. “I enjoy talking to you.”

I smile because that is the first time she’s actually admitted it. I think she realizes it too, because she’s blushing. Again.

“I mean, you’re not a complete asshole,” she adds.

“Wow, thanks,” I chuckle. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“So, how is your ass doing?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

I laugh. Nice change of subject.

“It’s fine. I can start getting out of bed tomorrow and maybe even go back to London by the weekend.”

“Really? That’s awesome.” She smiles. “I bet you can’t wait to get back to your life.” I’m sure I can hear disappointment in her voice. Does she think I won’t be bothering her as much when I’m back home?

Because if she does, then she’s wrong.

“I won’t be playing tennis for a while yet, though,” I explain. “My doctor said it might take months for it to heal completely.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“No, I’m actually okay with it. It gives me time to think about things.”

“What’s to think about?” she asks.

“What’s not?”

“You don’t strike me as the type of guy who thinks things through a hell of a lot,” she says with a giggle.

“Maybe that’s why I need to rethink things,” I retort.

“Maybe,” she says. Her eyes dart away and her face falls. “Shit, I have to get to work. Feel free to Facebook me,” she adds shyly.

“I will if you ever confirm my friend request.”

“Hmmm, I’ll give it some consideration. Have a good day, Mr Stevens,” she says with sweet smile, just before the screen goes blank.