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He didn’t close the door, and I followed him without even thinking about it. Confusion led the way, the wheels beneath me giving me the power to wander. The brief appearance of anxiety on his face gave me the courage to finally venture from this room.
I wheeled out into the hallway. A grand wooden staircase stood between Mercer and me. I followed the sound of his feet moving over wooden slats. His shadow disappeared from the bottom step as he rounded the corner. Two other men invaded my view, toolbelts hanging around the waistbands of their denim pants.
“Hey!” the younger of the two—a man around thirty—said, looking my way.
My stiff neck prevented me from looking over my shoulder to see who else he might be talking to.
“I take it this is for you?” He smiled, and I realized he was definitely talking to me as I looked over what appeared to be a stairlift. “We’re almost done. We just have to tighten one last thing...” He pointed to his companion, a man who was probably double his age and had a familial resemblance. “And then you can test it out.”
Sure, I’ll give your masterpiece a test run. I wanted to roll my eyes but remained respectful, eyeing up their hard work.
The older man did as he said, tightening the last of many concealed bolts with a hand-held power tool.
A button was pressed, a motor kicked in, and a comfortable-looking pink satin seat traveled the tracks to greet me.
These guys must have been working for hours, and I hadn’t even heard them until dreams of a sweet fox licking my toes and the man who called him away had ended. Mercer haunted me, invading every sense, lingering in my mind when I thought I zoned out. Nope. He was still there. Still with me as I slept, replacing the nightmares that terrified me.
I blinked away thoughts of him. The two men appeared before me again. The young blond stepped forward; his graying father stood behind him.
“Happy?” the older guy asked.
I nodded, unsure what to say. Unsure why this contraption had been installed.
The stairlift crept around the handrail, twisting to a position that made it easy for me to slink onto. I dragged myself from one chair to another, declining with thanks when both men offered me help.
I sat comfortably on the chair’s plump cushion and fastened the seat belt.
I glanced back to my wheelchair, wondering what I would do when I got to the bottom.
“Your other chair is at the bottom, waiting for you.” Lines deepened near the older man’s eyes as he smiled at me.
My other chair? I didn’t verbally question, choosing to play whatever role Mercer had written for me.
I pressed a button on a golden keypad and descended, seeing rooms I’d never seen before as I lowered slowly into an open-plan space. The chair rounded the corner, another chair waiting, with giant wheels on the tiled floor, a cushioned seat, and a battery-operated toggle that would allow me to change direction.
I shuffled into its comfort, confused by how to drive the damn thing. It took me only a second to have it moving, and it moved much faster than I was used to. I whizzed past the workmen, thanking them for their hard work, then past the grand double doors, mahogany, like the banister and all the other expensive woodwork.
The kitchen came into view, a prodigality of huge navy units. The room, glittered by pink accessories, all currently in use as Trix prepared the biggest breakfast in the world. My wheels moved over the prettiest floor as tiles gave way to cherry blossom petals encapsulated in resin. Wonderment put a smile on my face as I admired the beautiful details. The room was art.
Condensation coated the shiny backsplash and tiles, the open window not filtering out much steam, given how much food was being cooked. Trix looked up from the center island as I slammed to a halt before crashing into it. The rolling pin in her hand, covered in flour and beaten eggs, waved at me.
“Good morning, Feebee. I’m glad to have you down here. I’ll need some help once these scoundrels get to work.”
That wooden roller moved between two men, Mercer and the loser, also known as Chocolate Eyes. Damn, I’d already forgotten his real name, but as he sat there, innocently eating his breakfast cereal, I felt guilty for thinking of him as a loser.
“You’ve met Ethan.” She smiled, pride brightly showing as she reminded me what to call him.
Ethan’s strong throat worked, swallowing down the last of his cereal. He patted his mouth dry with a nearby dishtowel.
“I’m the least favorite grandchild.” He smiled.
“Oh, shush, you stupid man. I love you both the same. Now, one of you lift Feebee up to help me.”
Mercer stopped dead, a sip of hot tea still in his cup when he pivoted to me. Ethan got to me first, and with a smirk on his face and his eyes flicking between me and the man he looked so similar to, he asked, “May I?”
I nodded, appreciative that he at least asked before touching me. Maybe he was my favorite of her grandchildren because he didn’t touch me without asking or coerce me into sex under false pretenses. But he wasn’t...because I was fucking broken and liked the fucked-up one.
I let him lift me, our bodies close until he positioned me on a barstool. I removed my tight grip from his shoulders when I felt safe enough to do so, brushing the creases from his designer jacket.
