Rocky Road Page 6

  "I'm sorry, Ed, I do need some time."

  "Okay," he said, before I had a chance to offer him an excuse. "Make sure you're back by the end of the week, though. And ready to race."

  I shut my mouth, unused to this type of freedom. "If my father asks, could you not tell him I'm gone?"

  He shrugged. "I'm not going to lie to him, but I won't volunteer the information."

  As he spoke, Amanda strolled out of the mechanic's room. I leaned toward him, dropping my voice low. "You know, you should give Amanda a run on this thing. I hear she's killer on the road."

  "Hm." Ed turned toward her. "I might just do that."

  I bounced on my feet, the excitement running through me too much to contain. "I'll be back in less than a week."

  I couldn't believe I was doing this. A break in the season was definitely not in the plan. But it felt right. I knew it was right, because moment I did it, it was as if the pile of rocks lifted from my shoulders. I smiled as I walked out of the room and didn't feel the twinge of guilt I'd expected to feel. I didn't worry about the race. I was just happy that in a few hours, I would see Krysta.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BILLIE

  The scarlet bougainvillea blooms couldn't dress up the dreary concrete box that, according to the address in my phone, contained Krysta's apartment.

  I had overdressed for the trip, wearing my black leather jacket and jeans. Sweat moistened my underarms as I trudged up the steep set of stairs to Krysta's apartment. Gosh, these were impractical. This must have been why Krysta's mother had wanted to move her. Had they gone through with that? What would happen if I'd come all the way here and I couldn't find her?

  Shit, I couldn't do this anymore, this incessant worrying. It wasn't good for me or for my racing times. I just had to do this. I raised a fist to knock on the door, but the door opened before I could.

  A jovial-looking woman wearing hot pink scrubs jumped, a smile flirting across her plump lips. "Can I help you?"

  "Is Krysta there?" I asked, my throat going dry.

  "Are you the new nurse?"

  "No. I'm a friend."

  The woman closed the door partway behind her. "Krysta is here, but she's not seeing anyone."

  "Oh," I said. Damn it. I fumbled with my hands, slickening with sweat. Since when did I sweat? Since when did I feel anticipation like this? "Can you tell me how she's doing? I mean, I visited her in the hospital after her accident so I wanted to know if she was doing all right."

  The woman sucked in her lips. "I don't know. Maybe… what's your name again? I can double-check with her before I leave."

  "Billie Page."

  She turned away, and my throat tightened with what would come next.

  "Wait—" I said, placing a hand on the woman's forearm. As soon as I did, I took it away, even though she didn't seem to mind. "I don't want to give her a chance to kick me out."

  "Smart," the woman said, smiling.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "From what the nurses tell me, she's refused to see any of her friends."

  "And what's your name?"

  "I'm Tanya LeHigh, her physical therapist."

  Her hand was warm and dry as I shook it. She was strong, and had a reassuring smile, the perfect person to help with recovery. She also seemed honest and forthright. Maybe I could just find out how Krysta was doing from Tanya and go back home. I would be fine as long as I knew, right? That was the thing that was bothering me? Not knowing?

  I crossed my arms and squinted up into Tanya's face. "How is she, really?"

  Tanya sighed. "She's doing well."

  "But?"

  "You're her friend, right?"

  "Something like that."

  Tanya shrugged one shoulder. "I don't like the way she's isolating herself. Whenever I'm with her, I can see her holding all of her emotions back. I think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who knows her."

  Crap. When I'd imagined Krysta at her best, I'd seen her surrounded by her friends, a queen on a throne being served left and right. To hear she was isolating herself didn't sit well with me.

  "Maybe you can go in and visit," Tanya added. "See what you can do."

  I shifted from foot to foot as my stomach twisted. What could I do? Tell the woman I wasn't really her friend, that I barely knew her? That I only felt like I knew her through her social media pages and one night spent together? No. Leaving now would make me a coward. Plus, I'd come down here to see if Krysta was all right, and I was going to go through with it. Still, I felt like I was about to lose whatever was in my stomach. "Are you sure? You said she hasn't been seeing anyone."

  "I think it would do her good."

  "How do you know I'm not her enemy or something?"

  "I can see things about people. Plus, the nurse on duty could probably break you over her knee if you caused any trouble."

  I let out a chuckle, but I couldn't find any reason not to go in. With my stomach in my throat, I entered the house. Tanya closed the door after me. This was it. I was in now, no turning back.

  I would have known this was Krysta's house even if Tanya hadn't confirmed it. It was stylish and put together, just like Krysta. The living room was tastefully decorated in neutral colors with pops of crimson and violet in the pillows on the couch and in the artwork that decorated the walls. An unburned candle sat on the coffee table, which was surrounded by a couch and two chairs.

  The living room opened into a kitchen on the right and a short hallway to the left with two doors. I should have asked Tanya which one. I didn't exactly want to bust in on the nurse who was apparently strong enough to break me. Before I could doubt myself any longer, I strode to the first door and pushed it open with the tips of my fingers.

  Through the opening, I saw a wheelchair. I pushed open the door a bit farther and stepped in.

  "Who's there?" Krysta asked, her voice scratchy.

  My heart beat like a drum in my chest. I tried to say my name but it wouldn't come out. What was going on with me? Get it together. I cleared my throat. "It's Billie."

  Krysta, her hair a mass of tight curls around her head, peered at me over her covers. Her eyes went from squinted to widened. "What are you doing here?"

  "You didn't answer my calls."

  As my eyes adjusted to the dim room, I took her in. The gash above her eye was healing, though it still had stitches. The skin under her eyes looked puffy and her cheekbones protruded a little. Oh, darling, I thought, then immediately stuck that thought back into its box. I was here for a reason. To see how she was doing. Not to get myself enmeshed in a relationship from which I couldn't extricate myself.

  I walked over to the bed and perched on the edge, placing as little of my weight on the bed as possible. "I heard you were cooped up here."

  "Don't you have another race soon?"

  "Not for a couple of weeks." I waved her comment away. "Are you unhappy to see me?"

  "I'm not so happy that you broke into my house."

  "I didn't break in. Tanya let me in."

  "It's so hard to get good help around here." Krysta rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, a dark smile playing over her lips. She wore a tank top without a bra. I could see the bumps of her nipples through her shirt.

  Don't go there, Billie. Gosh, I couldn't keep my mind straight, even when she was sitting here in bed convalescing. I stood and turned my back to her to physically remove the temptation. Okay, I thought. I've seen her. Now what?

  "How's the PT coming?" I asked, pretending to study a poster on the wall.

  "Tell me what you've been up to the last couple of weeks," Krysta said, almost as if she hadn't heard me.

  I turned to make sure she had. "When do you get the casts off?"

  "When's your next race?" This time, I could see she had heard me. Krysta's dark eyes dared me to ask her another question.

  So, she was going to play this game. She was well enough to play this game. That was all I needed to know. She had spirit enough to sp
ar, which meant she could take care of herself.

  Now what? I couldn't turn right back around and start again. It would take time to book a flight, and two flights in a day didn't sit well with me. I eased on to the bed. "What do you say we watch some television?"

  "Sounds fine to me."

  I opened the streaming service. As I was selecting a new episode of ER, she turned her head to face me. "How long are you staying? Do you have to catch a flight back?"

  How long do you want me to stay? I wanted to ask, but the question felt too intimate when we were here together in bed. "I don't know yet. Depends. I'll be here tonight, though… is it… okay if I sleep on your couch?"

  "Yeah. Of course."

  "Good." I didn't dare swivel my face to look at her for fear I would get lost in those eyes. For fear she would reach out and pull me toward her in a kiss. Why was I afraid of that? We had already gone all the way so what was so scary about a kiss? What made my heart drum so hard when I imagined cradling her face in my hands and drawing her lips to mine? I pressed play, doing everything I could to stop myself from thinking of the future.

  "You know, you kind of remind me of Dr. Elizabeth Corday." I finally allowed myself to glance at Krysta, but her mouth was hanging open and a soft snore emanated from her nose. The episode started, but I spent most of the time staring at the beautiful woman on my arm, trying to define this new feeling in my stomach. Not a pit, not a butterfly, but something lower. Deeper.

  I'd come to see if she was all right, and I had. She was fine. I just wasn't sure I would be when this visit finished.

  CHAPTER NINE

  KRYSTA

  I woke up in bed alone with a jolt. The comforter on the other side of my queen-sized mattress was wrinkled, but a quick sweep over it with my palm revealed it was cold. The TV was off. Light peeked through the sides of the shades. I had fallen asleep some time in the night and, in that time, Billie had gone.

  And I had to pee something awful.

  I lifted the bell from my bedside table and gave it a ring. No one came. I rang it again.

  "The night nurse stepped out for a smoke break," a voice said from the other side of the bed.

  My heart thudded in my chest as Billie sauntered over to the bed from my arm chair, looking fresh in the morning light. She wore a different set of jeans and a T-shirt that hugged her in all the right places. For the first time since my accident, I felt a pull of attraction. It disappeared as soon as it arrived, though, due to the pressure in my bladder.

  "Is there anyone else here?"

  "Just me."

  Shit. Shit shit shit. My bladder already ached. I feared if I moved one wrong muscle, it would release all over the place. "When is she coming back?"

  "I don't know. I told her to take her time."

  Billie folded her arms, accentuating the wing tattoo on her shoulder and upper arm. My bladder squeezed.

  "Damn it," I whispered.

  "What's wrong?"

  It was either tell her or pee my bed and neither option sounded good at the moment. Could I do the latter without her noticing? What if she sat next to me again? I wouldn't be able to hide it.

  "I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong," Billie said.

  I lifted my chin. Now or never. "I have to pee."

  "Well, we can take care of that. No problem." Billie moved to the wall and unfolded my wheelchair like she had done it a million times. She rolled it right beside the bed and activated the brakes on both wheels. "Can you scoot to the edge?"

  Now a new problem arose. I smelled like chicken soup, and probably much worse. It had been a few days since I'd bathed. It was too much trouble, and at the time I'd thought, why bother? I wasn't going to see anyone socially anyway. Now that seemed like a terrible decision on my part. "I can do it alone."

  "Really." Billie stepped back.

  I hadn't even rolled over by myself, but the indignity of being lifted from bed by a woman I'd had sex with was just too much at the moment. I scooted over, using my good elbow as leverage. Then I swung my legs over the bed and scooted down so my butt was even with the wheel chair. With the small movement, my feet pulsed and ached. My legs, even in the short time since the accident, looked shriveled and foreign. My heart was racing and a cool swathe of moisture gathered on my forehead. The drop looked like a canyon from there. Could I do it? I started to look for other ways to get down.

  "Want a lift?" Billie asked.

  "Hush." I tried to keep my tone light, but I needed my focus. I decided some kind of lean and slide action would be my best way forward. I started to roll over onto my belly, but since I didn't have full control of my bruised arm, I slipped down the side of the mattress. My right butt cheek slammed into the arm of the chair, and then I felt a strong set of arms around me, lowering me into the wretched piece of shit.

  "Fuck. Shit," I muttered.

  "I know," Billie said in an infuriatingly calm manner.

  "Why did you do that?" I asked, my anger getting the best of me.

  "Do what?"

  "I had it."

  Billie's eyes widened. "You were falling."

  Don't do this, Krysta. "I could have done it myself. I do not appreciate being treated like a baby."

  Billie didn't respond. I caught my breath and undid the brakes of the wheelchair, pushing myself toward the bathroom. It was the most exercise I'd had all week and my arms were already trembling with the effort, though this new ball of anger in me fed me with energy. At the door jamb, the wheels simply stopped moving.

  "If you get up a little speed—"

  "Shh," I snapped again. I backed up and pushed as hard as I could on the wheels to get over the tiny hump.

  Success.

  But the pain wasn't over. The journey to the bathroom stretched on. All I could think of was my bladder exploding, leaving me dead in my chair. Girl dies, not from car accident, but from exploding bladder due to stubbornness. At this point, that didn't sound like a bad option. At least I would be too dead to feel embarrassment. Finally, I reached the bathroom, but then I still had to get up on to the toilet.

  "You can go now," I said.

  "You don't want help up?"

  "I can do it myself."

  "Right, like the time you slid off the bed all by yourself."

  I tried to smile, I really did. Part of me realized Billie was just trying to help. She was doing the best she could. But that part of me was swallowed by the growing shame and the press of my bladder.

  "I can help you. It's no problem. I've done all this stuff before. My mother broke her leg when I was a teenager. And then in high school I had this girlfriend who fell out of a tree and—"

  "I don't want your help. Leave me." My words came out sharper than I had meant, but I really needed to pee, and I couldn't tolerate the thought of her watching my wrecked body as I attempted it. Seeing me. Vulnerable. Exposed.

  Billie still stood there. "Use the arms of the wheelchair and the tub to help balance yourself. I'll see if we can get a railing installed to make this easier for you."

  "Just, go," I said, exasperation leaking into my tone.

  "Okay, okay." Billie backed out of the bathroom and closed the door most of the way.

  I'll spare you the details of how I got on to the toilet, but let's just say it wasn't pretty. I made it just in time and peed like a racehorse. The whole process took about half an hour, but I'd done it. It was the first time I'd gone alone since I came home.

  After washing my hands, I made my way into the kitchen. Something sizzled on the stove and smelled of toasted bread.

  "Hey, I'm sorry about snapping at you before," I said.

  Billie looked back at me, her smile lighting up her face. It was something I hadn't seen much and I recognized it as a gift to me. She lifted the spatula in the air. "Don't worry about it. I know how frustrating this must be for you."

  Now that I released my bladder and felt human again, I felt terrible for how I'd acted, no matter what she said. "No, that was re
ally unnecessary."

  "You can't put on a happy face all the time, Krysta. It's okay. I only expect you to be perfect eighty percent of the time."

  "That's ambitious, isn't it?"

  "We've all got a dream." Billie glided around the counter and placed a plate in front of me. Grilled cheese.

  Just the smell of the warm bread and melted cheese made my mouth water. "Oh my God. If you're trying to get in my pants through my mouth, this works."

  Did I really say that? It was the first thing I'd said that actually sounded like me again.

  Billie said nothing in reply.

  I really wanted her to say something. To smile. To laugh. To kiss me. Oh, my God. I wanted her to kiss me.

  The grilled cheese cooled as I watched her eat. Why wasn't she saying something? Was it because of the casts? Who knew if I was well enough to actually engage in full-on extra curricular activity. It wasn't something I had asked the doctor. Or my mother. How horrifying would that have been? Even if I wasn't, there were other things we could do. I hadn't even thought of it before now, not really.

  "Is it that horrible?" Billie asked.

  "Hm?"

  "The sandwich."

  "Oh, no, I'm sure it's great." I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. As the salty melted cheese hit my tongue, I let out a moan. When I opened my eyes again, Billie blinked and shook her head a little.

  So I could still affect her.

  She stood, sandwich in hand, and walked toward the bookshelf in the corner of the room. She was avoiding my eyes, my gaze. Why?

  "I've wanted to try this for ages," she said, picking up one of my games. "Do you know how to play?"

  My vision snapped into place. "A friend bought it for me but I haven't had the chance to try it yet. I don't even know the name of it."

  Billie flipped the box. "Dominion. Looks like a card strategy game. Could be fun. Want to try?"

  I lifted a shoulder.

  "Are you too tired?" Billie's forehead creased with concern. "I can bring you back to bed."

  She made me sound like a child. If anything was going to happen between us again I had to dissuade her of that thought. I wasn't too tired. I wasn't too weak. "No. Let's play the game."