Page 38 of Derecho

“Stop being such a stubborn ass. I’m here. I can help. ‘There’s no shame in needing help’, remember?”

I knew those words were going to come back and bite me.

“You should take magnesium before bed.” Cold air from the room wrapped around my body, and I went still as her warm fingers pressed against my skin. “The alien has been giving me muscle cramps for months. I don’t have any of the stuff here I drink before bed, but I’ll ask Birdie if she has some. She’s the one who told me about it before…”

Fuck. I needed to pay attention to what she was saying so I could figure out how to order her some of that stuff, but all I could focus on was the goddamn shorts I was wearing. No one…aside from my doctor, and Ma on occasion, had seen my scars healed like this. My leg was a mess. Thick, raised scars traveled around my knee, down my shin, wrapped through my calf, and ended at my ankle. I was lucky I kept my leg. Lucky I’d made it through my first surgery at all, not to mention the other three I had in the last two years. But looking at it every day, suffering through seeing the physical scarring on my body that has become a permanent reminder that I’m not the man I once was, it made my stomach roll.

“Just go,” I growled as I tried to pull my leg away from her. But she didn’t listen—didn’t even budge as her fingers worked into the muscle. Deeper. Warmer. Little by little, the pain started to fade.

“Magnesium will help stop the charley horses. Looks like I need to add bananas to the grocery list. God, I know it hurts, and I’m so sorry you’re in pain…but look at all that power you still have in your leg. It’s beautiful. These scars…”

Her fingers started circling the contracting muscle with more purpose. I was dumbfounded. Had she really just said my leg was beautiful? I felt like the fucking beast from that fairy tale Jessie was obsessed with growing up. How could anyone think that was beautiful? But as I looked at her face to see if she was teasing me, my mouth went dry. Because there wasn’t just concern and honesty in her eyes. There was something that looked an awful lot like…heat.

She shook her head just slightly, breaking the spell, and went back to work digging her fingers into the most tender part of my leg.

“Jesus!” I groaned.

“Come on, Lach. You’re tougher than that.”

I wasn’t. I wasn’t at all. But I bit my tongue and blinked away the tears that were stinging my eyes. That was the last thing I needed.

“Am I hurting you?” she whispered.

“No. It’s feeling better.”

“Okay.” Lainey rubbed up and down my scars, over the bumpy and misshapen muscle. I couldn’t believe none of it freaked her out.

“I think it’s good,” I finally admitted a minute later. The charley horse sensation had left, but behind it was the tidal wave of emotion waiting to pull me under.

“Does it hurt like that all the time?”

“Not all the time. It did in the beginning, after the first surgery when all my bones were locked in place with the first round of screws and plates. Sometimes I wonder if saving the damn thing was worth all the pain or not.”

Her hand was still resting against my leg, her thumb tracing along the thickest scar. “This leg is a miracle. I remember Dolly talking to me, I think it was right after your second surgery. When you were really sick and they didn’t know if you were going to lose it, or if they’d get the infection cleared. I don’t know why, but I said a prayer that night. And every night after that until I saw Dolly again a few weeks later, and she said you turned the corner. That your rehab was going well and your leg was healing. I can’t believe you look at this leg and don’t see how incredible it is.”

Just perfect. My face was wet. Lainey reached up, wiping away the tears on my face. “It’s okay to be upset with losing the life you thought you’d have. To be frustrated about the pain. About the things that you have a hard time doing now that were once easy to tackle before. It’s okay to cry and mourn what you lost that day, Lachlan. But don’t ever think that your accident made you less than. Less of a son. Less of a brother. Less of a man.”

“It does,” I admitted past my gritted teeth. “I’m a broken shell of who I used to be.”

“And yet, that so-called broken shell came for me. That broken shell held me as I fell apart. That broken shell gave me shelter, and safety, and a promise that tomorrow would be better. That broken shell isn’t as broken as you think. It might have a few cracks that are still healing, a few pieces that still need to be glued back into place. But I, for one, am incredibly grateful for the broken shell that you are.”

Her fingers squeezed my arm. “Do you want me to stay with you?” she asked.

“I’m okay. You should go back to bed. Rest. Sleep. That’s what you and the baby need.”

“I think the space invader is probably going to keep me up all night. Late pregnancy heartburn is no joke.”

I nodded. “I have antacids in my medicine cabinet. Help yourself.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I will.”

I watched her pad into the bathroom and open the medicine cabinet before hearing the door squeak open, then shut. Then she flicked the light off and came back into my bedroom.

I cringed, that uneasy feeling simmering just beneath my skin. My fingers itched to touch the light switch. To make sure that the time between on and off felt just right.

“How many times?”

“What?” I grumbled from my side of the bed. The light was fine. That’s what Sloane would tell me. The light was fine, and it wasn’t going to keep everyone safe if I got up and fiddled with it five more times. Once was enough. She turned it off, and everyone in my family would still be fine in the morning.