Page 69 of Lying to the Boss

Tage

Three months later…

New year, new me. Hooray!

This year, that actually means something. Kind of.

I’m fully healed from my accident and feeling better each day. I’m still tired a lot of the time, and I’m definitely out of shape from being forced to stay in bed for so long. My muscles burn almost all the time from not being used. My cast is still on, but I’m scheduled to have it removed next week.

I’ve been working for the last month, though it’s only been remotely, because Lane refuses to let me work too hard.

We’d argued for a whole week about me going back to work before he finally gave in and agreed to a remote situation. I didn’t feel so bad about it because other employees work remotely, so I didn’t think I was getting special treatment, but I was going crazy doing nothing but watching TV. I binged Friends, Seinfeld, The Originals, Vampire Diaries and True Blood. I lost count of all the movie series I watched, but I recall going through all the Friday the 13ths, Nightmare on Elm Street, Child’s play, and the Michael Myers movies. I’ve watched more TV in the last two months than I’ve watched in my entire life. And let me tell you, watching scary movies when you can hardly move is a bad idea. But it was all the excitement I’ve had.

Not moving around has made sleeping terrible because I’m not tiring myself out. I am just so ready to get back to a normal schedule, and once this cast is off, I think I can do that. I’ll have to do physical therapy for a while, which is good. It’ll help jump start me into a better routine. Slow workouts. Time out of the house. Anything to get me moving so I can sleep better and stop being so miserable.

Lane had caught me in the gym a few times and yelled at me. He actually yelled.

I wasn’t doing anything I couldn’t handle, but for him, it was still too much. I wasn’t even allowed to walk on the treadmill on slow!

He can be annoying, but really, it’s sweet how much he cares and has been taking care of me. Considering he’s the only one I have, I’m super grateful for him too.

He’s also been home a lot, only going into the office a few times a week for what he absolutely needs. Which means everyone at the office is probably speculating about us. Not only are we both out at the same time, but I was driving his car. If anyone hasn’t put that together, they should be fired because clearly their brain isn’t working at full capacity.

I haven’t heard from my parents again, even though I unblocked their numbers, and I’m not surprised about that at all. Disappointed, yes, but definitely not surprised. It stings a little, mostly when I think about it, which I try not to do. What’s the point? If they don’t care about me, which they’ve proved, then why should I care about them?

“What are you doing?” Lane asks as he comes into the kitchen.

“Nothing!” I say as I whirl around from the fridge. The movement hurts my back, but I don’t say that and I try to hide it as best as I can.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I’m just looking for a snack, Lane,” I groan.

“Why are you doing it when I could do it for you?”

I hold up my right hand. “Because I have a perfectly good working limb and I’m an adult who can take care of myself.” He raises a brow. “It’s bad enough you made me get rid of my apartment and—”

“Whoa,” he says, holding his hands up. “I did not make you do that. You decided.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. You didn’t make me do it.”

Lane helped me realize that choosing this type of life isn’t the same as having it chosen for me. And that realization… it changed a lot for me. This whole experience made me consider what I was doing. The biggest thing was realizing that not every moment is promised. And if I want something, I should take it while I have the opportunity. I could have died that day. Thankfully, for whatever reason, I didn’t.

So yes, I chose to give up my apartment because I’d much rather be here with Lane. The apartment was never really about the apartment anyway. It was about me proving that I could be on my own. And I did that. Now, if Lane would just back off and let me keep being independent, I may stop plotting his death.

Kidding.

I love him. I would never plot his death.

“You wanted to do it,” he says.

I smile and put my good arm around his waist. “Yes, I wanted to do it.”

His arms slide around me. “I just want to take care of you,” he says before kissing me.

“And you do, but you’re also driving me crazy because I’m fully capable of doing things myself.”

“But it makes me so happy,” he pouts.