The ride back to Reid's place earlier today after his therapy session was filled with silence. Both of us probably lost in our thoughts, or at least I know I was. In all, his first session went well. Hopefully, his attitude gets better with time, especially towards accepting my help. I know he has some issues, hell, we all do, but having a sour attitude towards it all will only affect his recovery process negatively. Life is hard in general, and sometimes we have to overcome more than a speed bump in life. Sometimes a whole damn wall is standing in our way. But you find a way to climb over it and carry on. I for one will never let something get in the way of my happiness-for myself or my daughter.

Ava left some of her toys on the floor from this morning that I didn't get picked up and by the sour look on Reid's face before he disappeared, he wasn't pleased with the small mess. I'm used to it and overlook her things scattered here and there. Sure, it used to bug me, and I would constantly be cleaning up after her, but with an almost-five-year-old, it's nearly impossible to keep a clean home. I need to remember Reid isn't used to it and pay better attention to her messes while I'm on this assignment.

Sighing, I reach over and crank up the radio. A few minutes of time to myself as I head to pick Ava up, leaving Reid alone at his place, is just what I need at the moment. I need to de-stress and a nice bubble bath after I put Ava down tonight is starting to sound like a perfect plan. All these thoughts and events of my day are running through my head as I pull into the parking lot outside Ava's preschool. Taking a deep breath, trying to release a little of the tension in my neck and shoulders, I shut the engine off and climb out of my car.

Walking inside, I'm met by another mother, Claire Walker, who has her three-year-old son in tow.

Please just walk by, I silently plead.

"Hello, Mila. How are you today?" She says with an annoyingly high-pitched voice. She is one of those moms with her perfectly put together outfit, perfectly styled hair, and makeup. The kind you would never catch in a pair of sweatpants and a messy bun piled on top of their head and wearing a hint of makeup from the day before. "Hi, Claire," I slightly wave my hand at her and attempt to continue on my way.

"Liam mentioned they had to make cutbacks and the hospital had to let you go. So sorry to hear that," she fake smiles.

I do my best to bite my tongue. First, I know her husband Liam—Dr. Walker didn't say anything to her. He's not the gossip type. She had to have heard it elsewhere. Second, Claire seems to think I want her husband, so she has a habit of knowing whatever she can about me, and it pisses me off. "I appreciate your concern," I return with a forced smile of my own.

"You still plan on attending the charity ball this year? Formal invites went out two weeks ago. The Charity this year is Alzheimer's. I wanted to give again to last year's charity, but Liam insisted we give to different charities throughout the community every year," she lets out a bored sigh as she looks at her manicured nails.

My contribution won't be much. A hundred dollars at best, but the cause is very near and dear to my heart. Ever since I've been on this journey alongside Grams, I have tried to contribute in any way possible to help fight this terrible disease. So, I'm going for that very reason to give my Grams a voice. The nurses at the hospital, my friends, they know about my grandmother and the struggles we go through. They think I would be the perfect representative to give a speech at the charity function. Not wanting her to stick her nose into any more of my business I stay clear of answering her question. "I'm sorry I can't stay and talk, Claire, I need to get Ava, so if you'll excuse me," I tell her as pleasantly as possible.

"Oh, well, of course," she replies dryly, obviously annoyed that I have just dismissed her. Stepping around Claire, I head towards the classroom where my daughter is waiting for me.

"Momma, Momma," Ava comes skipping across the room from where she was sitting with a piece of paper flapping around in her hand. "Momma, look, I got to use magic today!" she cheerfully says as she shows me the artwork in her hand. On the paper is a drawing of a box, and in that box are three stick figures that are supposed to resemble people, with one of those stick people sitting on what looks like wheels. The rest of the paper is covered in pink and purple glitter. She calls glitter 'magic' because the sparkles remind her of the magic in her favorite movie Cinderella.

"It's beautiful, sweetie. Who's that in the box?" I ask her.

With her little finger she points to the smallest figure which is a head with legs, "Dis is me," then points to the one beside it, "Dis is you, Momma," which is a slightly bigger head with longer legs, "And dis is Reid." Reid is the head with wheels instead of legs. "Momma, look, we in da magic box dat goes up," she beams with a huge smile. The box is the elevator at Reid’s, that she believes is magic, which explains all the glitter.

"You did a wonderful job, Ava. Are you ready to go home? I mean to Reid's? Let's go grab your lunch box, okay." I tell her as I take her hand and walk to her cubby. Once collecting all her things, we walk out to my car, and I get her buckled into her car seat in the back.

"Momma, guess what?"

"What, baby?"

"Michael ate a booger today. He's nasty. Boys are gross." She enlightens me with her four-year-old gossip of the day, making me laugh as I pull out of the parking lot.

"Eew, that is gross. You're not supposed to eat boogers," I play along with her banter hoping to get my point across that, in fact, you don't eat boogers.

Laughing, my daughter says, "Dats what I tell him, but he doesn’t listen. Maybe his momma not tell him dat its gross."

And just like that, a conversation about eating boogers has made the stress of my day fall by the wayside. Pulling up alongside Reid's blue truck I turn off my car, get out and unload my daughter who all but runs to the lower entrance door hoping to catch a ride in the magic box. Reid never said I couldn’t use this entrance or that we weren’t allowed on the elevator, so I walk up to the door where Ava is bouncing from one foot to the other as I punch in the security code. Once locking the door back, we make our way to the lift.

"Can I push the button, Momma?"

Holding my things and balancing Ava on my right hip I smile and nod my head giving her permission. Pushing the button, we start to rise and I watch her face light up. Stopping, I open the gate, and we walk out. The first thing Ava does is run down the hall towards our room, no doubt getting the iPad so she can watch a movie while I get dinner going. I don't have much to do since I put a roast with potatoes and carrots in the crockpot this morning, so all I need to do is bake some bread rolls. I walk down the hall heading to my room and find Ava sitting on her bed cross-legged, hugging her Care Bear and watching Moana. "Sweetie, Momma is going to check on Reid. Stay in here and watch your movie until dinner is ready okay," I bend down kissing her on the top of her head.

"Okay, Momma," she says without taking her eyes off the screen.

She really is a good kid. Sure, she's a typical four-year-old full of energy and questions, but she always listens. I've never had a hard time with her. She's a very smart and independent little girl. Turning, I walk out of mine and Ava's room and head down to the end of the hall towards Reid's.

Knocking on the door, I wait for an answer. Listening, I can hear the faint sounds of the shower running. For a moment my hand hovers over the door handle, contemplating if I should go in and check on him or not. It's my job, and like it or not I have to make sure he doesn’t need any assistance. Twisting the knob I walk into his room. Slowing my steps, I round the corner of his dresser that's located right next to his bathroom door, and I find Reid sitting in his wheelchair staring blankly at the floor with the hot water running and steam filling the room. I pause a moment to give him time to realize I'm standing here. When he does, he lifts his gaze to mine. His face is marred by a look of defeat and exhaustion. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply then lets it out. Aware he may not have enough strength after today's activities to lift himself from his chair into the shower I decide to step in.

Without a word I walk over to the cabinet and take out a couple of towels. Sitting one on the counter and placing the other one on the wet tiled shower bench to help ensure he doesn’t slip. Taking the ponytail holder from my wrist, I pull my long hair up twisting it into a loose bun. Lucky for me his shower head is one of those that has a detachable center. Reaching in I adjust the water temperature and angle the spray away, so I don’t soak myself.

Stepping back, I look at him. He's been watching my every move but hasn’t spoken. I can feel my heart rate pick up. I'm a nurse, I'm about to do my job, but I'm still a woman. A woman who finds the man sitting in front of me very attractive, but pushing that aside I reach for the hem of his shirt and begin to pull it up exposing his abs. Complying with my movements, he raises his arms enough for me to slip it off his casted arm and over his head. Working with me he leans, shifting his weight from one side then the other, so that I can work his jogging pants over his hips and down his legs. Pulling them completely free of his legs I reach for his prosthetic. His hand shoots out to stop me. Lifting my eyes to meet his, I silently assure him to trust me. I don’t feel words are needed at this moment. Words may do more harm than good. Reid needs to see I only want to help. He needs to feel that he can trust me. Slowly he removes his hold, and I proceed in removing his prosthesis. After removing the compression sock, I stand to leave him in only his black boxers. I won't remove those; I decide to leave them on, not only to help him feel more comfortable but myself as well.

Reid is in excellent shape. He lost a little bit of weight from being in the hospital for a month, but not enough to lose any of his muscle definition. Bending at my knees, I place my arms under his armpits and clasp my hands behind his back to get a secure hold of him. Readying himself, he leans forward putting his good arm on my shoulder as I hoist him from his chair and onto the towel covered seat. A small grunt leaves my lips. I've done this same maneuver several times since becoming a nurse, but haven’t lifted a man of his size before.

Grabbing the showerhead, I keep my eyes trained on his as I wet him down. I'm sure he can take it from here, but a part of me wants to see how far he will trust me to go. I grab the shampoo and squeeze a small amount into my palm and apply it to his hair, keeping eye contact with each other as I gently run my nails along his scalp. Briefly, Reid closes his eyes, relaxing into my touch. When he opens them again I'm not prepared for the depth of lust I see, and it causes my body to heat as I feel my face start to flush.

When I grab the body wash from the shower caddy he doesn't stop me either, so I lather some soap onto the rag. I place the rag on his shoulder working across to the other and drag the cloth down in a circular motion over his back. Careful to keep his cast dry, I lather one arm before moving to the other. The intimacy of washing him isn't lost on me, and the way his eyes are burning into me with such intensity causes my breathing to falter. Moving to his chest, then down his abs, his breathing hitches slightly. Methodically, I make my way down his body. Doing my best, I train my eyes away from his noticeably large arousal straining against his wet boxers and work on washing each leg, taking my time to massage the sore muscles at the same time, which earns a throaty moan from Reid. Once I've finished the process of scrubbing him down, I grab the shower head and turn back to face him.

"I think I need to take it from here, Kitten," his deep, gravelly voice informs me.

I don’t protest and hand him the shower head, "I'm going to check on Ava. As soon as you get rinsed off let me know. I'll help you out." I say to him before turning and walking out. I shut the bathroom door behind me, but leave his bedroom door open so that I can hear him. Peaking in on my daughter I notice her attention is still consumed by the movie she is watching, so I walk back and sit on the edge of Reid's bed and wait.

I can survive taking care of Reid in a purely professional manner. My job depends on it, so there is no question as to the fact I can and will make sure I perform to the best of my abilities and to the extent he will allow me to. The issue I'm starting to realize is the complete effect this man is beginning to have on me as a woman. Sure, I've always been attracted to him but in there-in the shower… I felt this pull. I don’t need that kind of distraction. If I'm honest with myself, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to separate the man from the patient.