Page 54 of The Goalie in Room 1

He’d moved outside as well. He seemed to be following me as he let me explore the house on my own, only showing up once I’d taken everything in. He sat in a patio chair that looked like it came out of a magazine for architecture and art. Something meant to be seen and not used.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I nodded, but kept my gaze locked on the view as the last light of day faded. When it was gone and night surrounded us, I turned to him. “Can I help cook?”

Thad took a deep breath, stood, and asked, “How’s the dizziness? The pain?” before trailing off into the house.

I loved that he didn’t push me and allowed me to move about on my own. “Dizziness is gone. Mostly. And I don’t feel as groggy or nauseous. Or as shaky. But they feel like they could drop in for a visit at any moment.”

“And the pain?”

I groaned. “There, but I don’t want to take anything,” I said, following him into the house. I stopped at the open glass wall. “Do you want this closed?”

“Not unless you do,” he called back over his shoulder as he opened the fridge.

“I’d never close it if I lived here.”

Thad paused in pulling out ingredients to look at me. “You do live here. For as long as you need. And your meds are on the table. I know you don’t want to take anything, but you need to stay ahead of the pain. At least for today.” He stopped, rolled his lips into his mouth, and said, “But you probably know that.”

“Yeah, Doc, I do. You can’t be Dr. Vale. Not here. Not if we’re going to make this situation work.”

A deep sigh was the only response until he said, “You’re right. Here I’m Thad. That’s it. Unless you ask for Dr. Vale.”

“Oh, Doc, believe me, there will come a time when I ask for a very, very thorough exam from Dr. Vale, but it will not be until I’m back on my feet, can participate fully, and am no longer your patient.”

Thad went to help me settle at the island, but when he propped my leg on the barstools, the dizziness returned. Instead, he settled me in a lounge chair he dragged into the kitchen from somewhere. The hovering ended once he seemed confident I wasn’t about to keel over.

“So…what are you making me? And can you even cook? If you can’t, someone should forcibly remove you from this house because it’s a waste of an amazing kitchen,” I said, wincing as a wave of sickness washed over me.

“Cash?”

I waved him off, and the knife hitting the cutting board resumed while I battled the nausea.

“Cooking is one of the pastimes I enjoy. Am I great at it? No, but…that view”— he pointed his knife at the view through the open wall— “and this kitchen were the reasons I bought this house. Being set away from everything and everyone also helped.”

“The view alone is enough,” I said, staring at the man before me. Nestled into the cushion of the chair, I settled back, letting the wave of fatigue I’d been fighting off have its way.

The chair dipped near my feet. My eyes opened to a lidded tumbler. “Ginger ale. And here,” he said, handing me a couple of amber bottles. “Michael sent you home with nausea meds.”

“And there’s Dr. Vale again,” I joked, swallowing the sip of soda.

“No, just the guy who gives a damn watching you turn a very familiar shade of green,” he responded. “Take the meds before you puke.” He went back to the kitchen. “And so you know, you can have any of the pain medicine when you’re ready. Just let me know which you take so I can help keep you on schedule.”

I sighed, then swallowed an anti-nausea pill.

The chicken-and-rice soup and crackers Thad made tasted better than some of the nicest, most expensive chef-created meals I’d eaten in my life. Not that there had been many. I wanted to finish it and even ask for seconds, but the half-bowl I managed churned in my stomach. The nausea meds did their job. Somewhat. I didn’t puke, but I still felt like I could at any moment.

Held up by my hand with my elbow braced on the table, my head dipped several times as the sound of the ocean lulled me.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Thad whispered.

For the first time in years, not counting Halo House, I would sleep under another person’s roof. A roof I had no way of leaving without help. Thad’s help.

The thought should’ve terrified me.

It didn’t.

That it didn’t… scared me more.