Rocky Road Page 7

  Billie smiled to herself and set it on the table.

  An hour later, she slammed me with another Witch's Curse and I blocked her with a Moat. I pointed a finger at her, laughing at her, forgetting about my feet altogether. "Thwarted, again!"

  "Indeed. And yet I can play another card. It's another Witch. Grab your curse, missy!"

  Groaning, I took a purple card and set it into my discard pile. Right as I was about to take my turn, the lock clicked and the door opened.

  Tanya entered, a bag of groceries in her arm. "Hey, you two. I'm glad to see you still here, Billie."

  I placed my cards face down on the table. "You know one another? Oh right. You met yesterday when you conspired to socialize me?"

  "Busted," Tanya said.

  "It worked." Billie winked.

  Tanya joined us at the table. "How long are you with us, Billie?"

  "I don't know." Billie slid me a glance. "A few days? As long as I can tolerate this one." She jerked a thumb in my direction. She leaned forward theatrically. "You know how she can be."

  I chuckled with them, but my heart dropped. A few days. She would only be here a few days. I would have thought this would come as a relief, especially after that morning's fiasco, but I could feel the energy seeping from my limbs at the very suggestion of her leaving. She smiled at me with her irresistible green eyes and that snub nose of hers.

  I would never admit it to anyone, but the last twelve hours since she'd come had been the best since before my accident. They were so simple, but I'd spent at least an hour not remembering my feet. And she'd cared. When was the last time someone cared about me without getting paid? Maybe no one. Even as a child, I found all my love and affection with my nanny rather than my mother or father.

  With Billie, it wasn't overt. A touch here, a glance there. A grilled cheese sandwich. At least it was there.

  My eyes pricked with tears that I covered with a yawn and a smile. In a few days I would have to let her go, and then I would have to carve a life for myself without her that made sense.

  She'd broken me open. Isolation was no longer an option.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BILLIE

  The first and second days in Florida, I spent most of my time with Krysta. I hadn't thought of doing anything else, really. On the third day, I managed to get out early for a run. The terrain was so flat it was barely a challenge, and I pushed my pace beyond what I was used to. I stopped at a local gym and did a couple rounds on the weights, too. It wasn't my full workout regimen, but it was better than the nothing I had been doing for the past two days.

  I had half-expected my time with Krysta to be both exhausting and boring. It was neither. Krysta was a constant well of interest, from the stories she had about the parties she'd attended, to her many—sometimes so horrible they were funny—jokes.

  My father had tried calling and texting numerous times a day. So far, I had ignored him, but as I rounded the corner into Krysta's apartment complex, I decided to call him after my shower. Maybe with some sort of liquor in my lemonade.

  As I approached the door, however, I heard screams coming from inside. My fingers, already sweaty from my run, slipped on the doorknob as I twisted it. As another scream ripped through my gut, the hair raised on my arm. I used my shirt to wipe my hands clean and opened the door, running inside to see what had happened.

  I arrived to find Tanya kneeling on the bed, her hand under Krysta's leg.

  "Stop," I called. "You're hurting her."

  Tanya eased Krysta's leg back to the bed and stared at me, her eyebrow raised.

  My body was in full panic-mode, my heart beating hard, my palms sweating, my legs shaking. Krysta's screams had twisted me up on the inside, until my body had gone wild with them. But it wasn't about me right now. "Sorry," I said.

  Krysta hunched over, her hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, curling with damp at the temples. She looked spent, but even as I stared, she pulled herself to an upright sitting position. The sounds of her screams still echoed in my ears. I shook my head to make them go away.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "How was your run?" Krysta asked, around her labored breathing.

  This woman. She had just been screaming, yet she was asking me about my run. What gave her the strength to do that? I swallowed down the bulb of fear rising in my throat. "Hot."

  "Welcome to spring in Florida," Tanya said, rubbing her hands together.

  "When you two ladies are done, can we finish this so I can get on with my day? I've got a packed schedule, full of sitting around and doing nothing," Krysta said.

  Tanya patted her leg. "We've got a few exercises left, but they should be easy after that one."

  "Sure. Easy. Piece of cake. Walk in the park. Ha. Ha. Get it?"

  Tanya leaned forward. "You said you wanted to start pushing. This is what it feels like."

  "Torture, isn't it?" I said.

  Krysta stared at the ceiling.

  I wanted to make everything better, to wave my hands over her legs and magically heal them. But I couldn't. I wasn't a nurse or a doctor or a physical therapist. I was barely her friend. What could I offer her? "I've been there. It gets better, Krys," I said.

  "When?" I thought I heard her whisper. "Do you mind leaving, Billie?" she said, before I could answer.

  "Not at all." I backed away and closed the door on my way out. For some reason, my heart thudded in my chest. Anxiety. I rarely felt anxiety. My hands trembled with it, too. It must be from that scream. That murderous, bloodcurdling scream.

  A hot shower helped calm my body. When I finished, I blew-dry my hair to take out most of the moisture and plaited it in a French braid.

  Tanya met me outside in the hall.

  "That was rough," I said.

  "It might have looked rough, but she pushed really hard today. You're good for her." Tanya touched my arm and slipped into the living room.

  I stared at the door to Krysta's room. In a few days I would leave, then what? Would all this goodness go away? What if I stayed a little longer? Maybe a few more days would help get her back on her feet sooner.

  I pushed open the door to her room, peeking in. "Your torture done for the day?"

  "Yep," she replied, her voice hoarse and weak. She faced away from me, curled on her side, one leg out in front and the other propped on a set of pillows.

  "Do you want to play something? Maybe another game of Dominion?"

  "Can I raincheck?"

  "Yeah. Speaking of rain, you really should get out some time. Or at least open a window. It's so stuffy in here."

  "Billie?"

  "Yeah."

  "Shut up, please."

  She hadn't moved at all while we were talking, and I feared what I would find on her face if I went around to the other side of the bed. Was she tired? Was she upset? How had I felt when I had broken my ankle that time? Sure, it wasn't as bad as her incident, but…

  I had felt alone.

  Sighing, I walked over the other side of the bed. "Do you need to talk?"

  "No, I'd rather not. I'm tired. And in a lot of pain."

  "How about some meds?"

  "I'm not allowed meds for another few hours."

  "You don't have to push so hard—"

  "I do."

  "Not to the point where it completely knocks you out."

  "No pain, no gain. You know that." Weakly, she brought her eyes up to meet mine. They weren't very large, and now, swollen, they seemed even smaller. Just slits to the window of her soul. Her face was drawn, and her skin looked blotchy. Her lips were chapped.

  Oh, sweetheart, I wanted to say. I wanted to hold her in my arms and let her cry until she melted into me. Not that I'd seen her cry, or even knew whether she would appreciate something like that.

  "Do you want to watch some ER?" I asked, a decidedly safer bet. I picked up the remote and took my spot next to her.

  "Can't we watch something interesting? That show's like a million years old."r />
  "It's so good, though," I said.

  Krysta didn't answer me as I turned on the TV and flipped on ER. When I stole a glance a few minutes later, she was asleep. Her head had fallen perilously close to my arm, just like it had the first night I was here. Could I stroke her forehead and get away with it? She had so many traumatizing things going on with her body I wanted her to feel something good. But would it feel good? She had seemed so… worn.

  Every time I looked at her face, I found something new. The mole under her left eye. Her lips, the color of clay. Had I ever done this before? Had I ever cataloged someone's face? Had I ever spent so much time in the presence of someone I really liked without something to distract us? It no longer felt like an obligation, it felt like a privilege.

  She slept right through dinner. She barely woke up for the nurse's arrival and the administration of her meds. After that, I went on a long, rambling walk to sort my thoughts. I returned to a dark house and showered and changed into comfortable clothes.

  The couch called to me, so I snuggled into the back of it, my laptop propped on my hip.

  I woke some time later to a loud moaning sound. As sleep drifted away, I realized I wasn't dreaming. I ran to Krysta's room. "What's wrong?"

  She answered with a moan.

  "Where's the nurse?" I asked, my breathing growing short and frantic. Something was wrong with Krysta. I remembered how hard Tanya had pushed her. How tired Krysta had seemed. Could she have re-fractured something? I ran out into the hall and across the way to the guest room where the nurses had set up camp, but it was empty.

  There was supposed to be a nurse here twenty-four hours a day from the agency Krysta's parents had hired. I ran to the kitchen to try to find the phone number of the organization, but I couldn't find it. Out of breath, I placed my hands on the table. Get it together, Billie. Find out what's wrong.

  Maybe it was something I could soothe.

  I jogged back to Krysta's room. She was still moaning. I flipped on the lamp and sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her head jerking from side to side. Maybe she was just having a bad dream. It wasn't uncommon after trauma like this. I shook her shoulder. Her skin felt warm under my touch, but not feverish. I shoved the blankets off of her, which caused her to moan louder, but now I was even more sure it was a dream.

  "Krysta, wake up," I said. "It's only a dream. It's okay. You're all right."

  "No." She moaned something else unintelligible. Then she started thrashing so hard I thought she'd hurt herself if she did it much longer. Lying on the bed next to her I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as tight as I could, trying to make her stay still. "Shh…" I said. "Shhh." I smoothed back her sweaty hair.

  As I held her, she started to relax. Her breathing calmed and returned to normal. Even once she settled, I held her tight to my body. She had to know it was okay, that it was going to be okay.

  My arms, my normally steady arms, shook as they held her. It was as if all the anger was contained in that one section of my body. Though she would never admit it, she needed someone here who cared for her. I cared. Admitting that, even in my own mind, terrified me. I knew what happened when I cared for people.

  I got too intense and they left.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KRYSTA

  It felt like there was a sand bag draped over my arm. A breathing sandbag. If my feet weren't so painful and itchy this morning, I would have shoved it off. I moved my head and noticed a hand on my stomach. The sandbag had a hand and breathed. And held me like we belonged together, fingers draped over my stomach.

  Billie? I froze. Did she know what she was doing? If she knew would she stop? Her body molded to mine in such a familiar way. I didn't want to move, but that's how I knew I had to.

  Trying not to use my feet, I edged out from under Billie's arm.

  She jumped awake and rolled the rest of the way away. "What? I'm sorry," she barked.

  A flash of a memory overtook me. I had dreamed I was being run over by a car again and of falling and falling and someone catching me and holding me tight. Some of that had, apparently, not been a dream. I still felt groggy, the world a little fuzzy around the edges.

  I searched for something to say. Something more than hold me tight. Something that wasn't as serious as I felt.

  "You snore," I said, pushing her shoulder away. Go. Farther away.

  "I do not."

  "How would you know? You're asleep." My joking tone jarred against the sinking feeling inside. The one that knew I had to send her away.

  "I haven't had partners complain about it in the past."

  "Have you had a lot of those partner things?"

  Billie sat up and swung her legs over the bed. She walked over to the shades and opened them, like she had done every morning. Then she turned back to me, locking my gaze. "Do you remember your dream last night?"

  "Not really." I lifted my hand to block the sun. I'd had a dream. That's why she was in my bed. "Listen, Billie. I think it's time—"

  Billie's face darkened. She strode out of the room.

  "Billie."

  She didn't answer.

  There was no way I could catch her to ask what was wrong. It was an unfair advantage, really. She could run away from me whenever she wanted.

  Her voice sounded from the other room a few moments later. It was too low for me to hear what she was saying, though I practically stopped breathing so I could listen. What made her so angry? Why was she in my bed last night? Soon, her voice rose in pitch and volume. "You're supposed to have someone here at all times. I want to talk to your manager. Now."

  "Billie," I called. "Please don't do that. I can take care of it." This was just another reason to tell her to go. She was getting too involved.

  Billie appeared in the doorway, her hand over the receiver. "Your parents are paying for a service and you should get it. It's bad enough I'm here instead of them. I mean—hello?" She turned away and walked out of sight.

  This was my thing. As I listened to her ream out the manager, my irritation grew. What right did she think she had to do this? My wheelchair was across the room, so I couldn't do anything about it.

  "Of course you'll talk to her," she said, "but I want reassurances that someone will be here at all times. You know what? I want to talk to her. I want to know why she thought it would be okay to leave someone who needed her here. Why? Why is that okay?"

  Billie paused, and my irritation started to roll around in my empty stomach. Why were they even letting her speak to them like that? She wasn't the one paying them. I wasn't an invalid who needed managing. Damn it. Damn it.

  If she wasn't going to listen to me, I was going to have to take charge. I pulled myself to the edge of the bed and unplugged the lamp. I scooted the bedside table out until it was a body's length away from me. Then using all of my core strength, I lowered myself to the floor, my legs still on the bed. My feet came next. Cringing, I scooted away, using a combination of friction with the bed and my hands to ease them to the floor.

  Success.

  The plush carpet scratched against my bare legs as I rolled over. Like a baby, I started sliding forward on hands and knees.

  Billie's voice was rising in pitch. Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself into the living room. My ankle caught on the damn doorway and sent a shooting pain up my foot. A scream escaped from my lips before I could hold it back. I rolled over onto my back. "Damn it. Billie!"

  I didn't need to call for her because she was already there. She hung up the phone and crouched at my side. "What are you doing? Why are you out of your bed?"

  "I don't need your help," I gritted through my teeth.

  "You do need someone's help, though. This house isn't made for someone who can't walk. Fuck, Krysta, you're not making this easy."

  So she thought this could be easy. Well she obviously hadn't broken both of her ankles before. "I think you should go."

  Billie blinked and folded her arms. "No. I'm not going anywh
ere."

  "You have to," I said, my voice betraying my true feelings on the subject. "Just go now before it gets too hard."

  "No." This time Billie hesitated a moment before shaking her head.

  "Please."

  She knelt next to me. "We're friends, and this is what friends do. I'm not going to be here much longer and I need to know you'll be okay when I go."

  I bit the inside of my mouth so I wouldn't start crying. It felt like a balloon was expanding in my chest and that any moment it would pop. I couldn't let her see that. "Friendships are two-sided. I can't offer you anything right now."

  "It's not always like that."

  "It's how it is for me. I hate being in debt to people."

  Billie leaned over and scooped me up off the floor. "You know what you could do for me as thanks?"

  "What?" I wrapped my arms around her neck so I wouldn't fall.

  "You could take a fucking bath."

  I swatted at her, a real laugh gripping my gut for the first time since the accident. Billie—the only person who could surprise me and make me laugh like that all while pissing me off more than anyone else on Earth. It was going to be hard to do this without her, but I would have to.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BILLIE

  After my outburst with the nursing agency, I needed to blow off some steam. So, when Tanya arrived for her appointment with Krysta, I decided to go for a run.

  Though it was still relatively early in the day, the air was so thick it clogged my lungs. I felt like I was running through water. Against the current. My mind kept going over how awful I felt, how slow I was. From there it wasn't a long jump to how Krysta had asked me to leave. She had seemed so upset. Was it possible she was doing worse now than when I had arrived?

  Arguably, I'd overstepped. I'd let my anger get the best of me. It had just been so scary to see Krysta in so much pain. Her screams and painful moans still haunted me. What if something had happened? What if I hadn't been there and she had developed a blood clot or some other horrific complication?