BRIAN WAS IN agony. He’d pushed too hard in rehab today, and his right leg was cramping. He was into his second week of living with Tag, and he just wanted to be off these damned crutches, so he didn’t seem like such a cripple around her. The physical therapist kept saying he was well enough to walk with a cane, but he wasn’t so sure. What if he tried and failed? Better not to attempt it until he was absolutely sure he would succeed. As for walking on his own two feet, that day seemed far in the future.
Or maybe impossible?
Tears of pain—and despair—squeezed from his eyes. He’d come home from rehab, plopped into Tag’s chair in a T-shirt and thigh-length athletic shorts, and put his feet up on the ottoman, too tired even to get a shower. When he’d felt the first spasm, he’d done his best to point his toes toward his body to relax his calf muscle. The cramp had suddenly gone from a 4 to a 15. He’d bitten his lower lip until he tasted blood, to keep from shrieking.
“Brian?”
He uttered a tortured cry and gripped his right thigh so tightly with both hands he knew he was making bruises. But the muscles in his leg were strung as tight as barbed wire ready to snap, and he didn’t know how else to counter the excruciating pain.
He heard several things land and roll on the wooden floor and then the sound of Tag running to the kitchen.
He arched his head back and clenched his jaw. He didn’t want her to see him like this, but he didn’t have the right to send her away. This was her home.
But he said it anyway. “Go away. Leave me be.”
The next thing he knew, she was kneeling beside him, shifting a dish towel from hand to hand. “This might hurt.”
When she slipped the towel around his calf and wrapped it tight, he realized why she’d been treating it like a hot potato. He hissed in a breath and yelped, “That’s boiling hot!”
“It was the only thing I could think of to loosen your constricted muscles.”
He realized she’d wet the towel from the dispenser at the sink that provided instant boiling water. “I’m going to end up with third degree burns on what flesh I have left,” he muttered.
“Shut up and think of butterflies.”
“What the hell do butterflies have to do with anything?”
She patted his hand where it gripped his thigh, then wrapped the towel more tightly around his leg. “Just think of something besides your leg and let this heat work.”
Thirty seconds later he said, “It isn’t working.”
“The heat?”
“The physical therapy.”
“Looks to me like you’re doing too much too soon. Again.”
“I want to walk with a cane. Is that asking so much?”
“It is if you end up torturing yourself with cramps.”
“I’m afraid.” He wanted to say more, but the words were caught in his throat. Did he dare tell her how scared he was that he’d never walk again without some sort of aid? That he didn’t think his leg would ever be strong enough for him to go back to work as a firefighter? That he had no idea what he would do if he couldn’t fight fires.
She met his gaze. “You’re the bravest man I know, Brian. You can do this.”
“I can’t.” He felt another spasm take hold and bit back a scream.
It took him a moment to realize she was gripping his injured calf—his ugly, deformed mess of an injured calf—in both hands as hard as she could. And it was easing the spasm.
“Oh, God, Tag. Hold on. Keep doing what you’re doing. It’s helping.”
It took another thirty seconds—a lifetime—for the spasm to pass. He clenched his teeth and held his breath the whole time. It took him a moment to realize the pain was gone. He soughed out the breath of air he’d been holding and collapsed back against the chair.
He lowered his gaze to his hands, which were now knotted into helpless fists in his lap. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to leave the towel wrapped around your calf.”
She stood and headed toward the garage door.
“What did you drop?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.
“The groceries.” She gathered up a cucumber and a couple of apples that had rolled on the floor and set them on the kitchen counter.
“Come here, Tag.”
She hurried toward him, and he knew she thought the cramps were back. When she reached him, he toppled her sideways into his lap.
“Brian! Your leg!”
“My leg is fine. But there are other body parts that need a little TLC.” He nuzzled her neck and felt her stiffen in his arms, but only for a moment. Her body relaxed against his as her arms slid around his neck, and she laid her head on his shoulder.
“This is nice,” he said.
“Yes, it is.”
She gasped when he nibbled her earlobe and put a hand to his lips to stop him. “We have to be careful, Brian.”
“Careful? I told you my leg is fine.”
She sat up and looked him in the eye. “You said you loved me when we were lost in the forest. Then you kicked me out of your room at the hospital. Which Brian is holding me in his arms now?”
“Neither one of those idiots.”
She laughed. “Were you an idiot for telling me you loved me? Or for kicking me out of your room?”
“I’m smart enough to know that when you have a beautiful woman in your arms the last thing you should do is talk.”
He captured her mouth and tasted the honey inside. For a moment she was enthusiastically kissing him back. She suddenly withdrew and tucked her head under his chin, where he couldn’t reach her mouth.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Brian.”
“I know. I know. What happened out there changed you. It changed me, too. I want to grab hold of everything good that comes my way and never let go.” His arms tightened around her.
“Brian, I’m—”
He put two fingertips to her lips. “Shh. Don’t say anything. Just sit here and let me hold you.” He wasn’t sure whether he was embracing her more to thank her or to comfort himself. Living with her was making him want a home of his own. Living with her was making him realize he’d never really gotten over her. That what he’d pronounced as love when he’d thought he was dying might turn out to be the real thing, now that death no longer loomed.
He understood why she was afraid of letting him get close. For the past two weeks, she’d been giving him conflicting signals, inviting him in, then backing off. She was ambivalent. Uncertain. Like tonight. Right there to help when he needed it but unwilling to accept the hug he’d wanted to give her as thanks.
“I think you need to give rehab more of a chance,” she said.
“Even if it isn’t working?”
“Do you want to walk with a cane? Or not?”
“I want to walk on my own two feet without help from anything or anyone.”
He felt her hand on his cheek. “Then I think that’s what you should do.”
“But—”
She put two fingertips to his lips, then raised her head and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “That was for encouragement. So is this.” She kissed him more deeply.
When they came up for air, she said, “Go back to rehab tomorrow and work hard, but know when it’s time to rest, so you can be stronger the day after tomorrow.”
“Will you be waiting here for me when I get back?”
“If boiling towels are your thing, I’m game.”
He laughed. “I’ll settle for a hug and a few lazy kisses.”
She freed herself from his embrace and got to her feet. Her eyes looked troubled.
“What’s wrong? I can tell there’s something bothering you, Tag. Let me help.”
“There’s nothing you can do right now. It’s something I have to deal with on my own.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You’ve got enough on your plate. I can handle this.”
It dawned on him that he wanted to take care of her, to take her burdens on his shoulders. The problem was that he could barely take care of himself. She was wrong about taking the time to rest. He needed to work even harder to get well. If he had to suffer a few cramps now and then, it would be worth the pain to get back on his feet.
He didn’t want to come wooing on crutches.