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Cheryse endured an endless procession of doctors, nurses, the beach crew, and Hunter hovering over her.
The doctor told her she had a high ankle sprain, but she would need to be casted and come back in a week to see if she could tolerate a boot. She would need help because it was her right foot and she wouldn’t be able to drive anywhere. Not to mention the pain she would be in for a few days.
Everyone was there. All the Stone siblings except Brooks, with their wives and children crowded around the bed with the beach crew. Lucy even had Dawn on the phone asking for an update. Hunter stood behind Ava, his arms crossed, a somber expression on his face.
Ava was in the middle of coordinating help for Cheryse. All the friends had opened their Google calendars to align their schedules.
Cheryse was tired, cranky, and hated needing anyone.
“Roger is gone for another three weeks, correct?” Ava asked.
Cheryse nodded stiffly. “But I don’t need help. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you do,” Trey said. He took Ava’s organizing a step further by having everyone email him so he could start a separate calendar with all of them on it.
Cheryse thought about calling her mother in Greece, but it would take a few days to get her here. She hated feeling vulnerable. It reminded her of when she’d been at the mercy of her first husband. “I’ll be fine.”
Of course, she had no way of knowing that. She had a salon to run, and it took an enormous amount of energy to manage the staff’s schedules, organize massages, do hair, do product inventory, not to mention talking to everyone coming in and out all day. She couldn’t just not show up for work.
“I don’t need help,” she said again.
Everyone ignored her; they were busy trying to figure out how to juggle babysitting for each other. Even the men offered to take shifts when they could. Trey liked the idea of hiring a manager for her salon. Marshall said he could train a manager if they could find one.
"What do you know about training a salon manager?" Cheryse fired off at Marshall.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I don't have to know your business to know how to train someone to run it."
This was ridiculous. "You kinda do," Cheryse said, but she wasn't up to a full out fight with Marshall.
Finally, Hunter cleared his throat. “I’m going to fix this.”
Everyone stopped talking; tension was suddenly palpable in the air.
Cheryse’s eyes met Hunter’s.
“I did this,” he said. “I’ll fix it.”
“No, you won’t.” It took a monstrous effort, but Cheryse propped herself up enough to glare at Hunter. “Youcausedthis. I don’t want your help.”
Not to mention the fact he was a grade double-A jerk. How many times had Roger asked about her make-out sessions with Hunter? Too many to count at this point.
“I’ll be at your house tomorrow morning to help get you up and go to the salon. That’s nonnegotiable.” Hunter pointed at her as he walked out of the room. “I don’t care what you say.”
Chapter 15
True to his word, Hunter knocked on Cheryse’s door early the next morning. That was more than annoying; she had made her friends promisetheywould help her, not Hunter. She wasn’t even all the way awake when he knocked.
After the hospital had released her the night before, her friends had made sure she was comfortable and the house was stocked with food. They’d all vowed they would take shifts to help her.
There was another knock at the door. “Reese, let me in.”
Cheryse sat up and reached for the little scooter Marshall had finagled from someone. There was a Post-It note attached to her phone.
We all voted, and we think Hunter should be allowed to make amends by taking care of you. Please give him a chance.
The handwriting looked like Kensi’s.
Another knock sounded, more insistent this time.
