Shit. He was in trouble. He knew it even before he was fully awake. Knew it even before he threw the covers back and saw the swollen purple mess that used to be his right knee.
He sat up, groaning loudly when it sent fire radiating from his knee down to his toes. He grabbed the pill bottle from his nightstand and muttered a curse. He’d taken the last leftover Percocet last night. It had done a great job of dulling the pain and allowing him to get some sleep, but now the agony had roared back to life, even worse than last night. Hell, had he been in this much pain since the surgery?
Shit. Double fucking shit.
Panic surged through him. What if he’d torn the ligaments again? What if he’d completely destroyed his knee and this time, they couldn’t put him back together again like Humpty Dumpty? He could forget about even playing baseball recreationally. Hell, he’d be fucking lucky if he didn’t have to use a cane for the rest of his life.
The panic made the pain worse, made his knee throb and pulse until he thought he might puke. He leaned back against the headboard, taking shallow breaths and waiting for the churning in his guts to settle.
Fuck, he really needed to take a piss. Moving slowly and carefully, holding his right leg steady with both hands just below his knee, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Just bending his knee sent fresh new agony through his leg up to his hip and he grabbed the pillow and buried his face in it to muffle his scream of pain.
Sweating, groaning under his breath, he lifted his right leg back onto the bed before reaching with a shaking hand for the bottle of Tylenol. He took four, chasing them down with a sip of water. The Tylenol might, if he was lucky, dull the pain enough for him to at least not scream when he bent his knee, but he couldn’t walk on it. He knew that without a doubt.
He needed to get his ass to the hospital and find out how much damage that asshole Daniel had done to him.
It wasn’t done on purpose.
No, maybe not, but he wasn’t exactly feeling charitable this morning. Because of Daniel, the likelihood of him pissing his own damn bed was high.
He grabbed his phone and then hesitated. Who the fuck could he call? If he called his parents, it would take them at least forty minutes to an hour to get here and forgetting his need to take a piss, Connor wasn’t sure he could stand the pain for that long. If he didn’t get to the hospital soon and get some goddamn pain medication, he’d go insane.
Call Kira.
He took a deep breath and stared at his knee. He was wearing just a pair of boxers and even the thought of trying to get pants on past his swollen, angry knee made him want to vomit. Which meant that if he called Kira, she’d see his knee, see the scars from his surgery. She’d start asking questions and –
Who fucking cares! The alternative is calling your parents and then lying in a pool of pure agony and your own piss while you wait for them to show up. Is that what you want?
Nope. Definitely not. And if he was being truthful, he wanted to call Kira. Wanted the comfort of her soft voice and hands. Even if it meant having to tell her about the accident and the surgery.
His fingers trembling, he hit her number. She answered after only one ring, her voice a bit raspy. “Hey, Connor.”
“Hey, did I wake you?”
“No, I’m an early riser, even on the weekends. How’s your knee?”
“Uh, not great. I can’t, um, actually get out of bed or walk on it. I hate to ask, but do you think you could, uh, pop by and…”
“Text me your address. I’ll be right over.”
“Thanks, Kira.”
“Wait, if you can’t walk… how will I get into your apartment?” she said.
“Shit. I don’t suppose you’re any good at picking locks, huh?”
“Nope. But do you have a building supervisor or manager in the actual apartment building? Maybe you could text them and have them open the door for me?”
“You’re brilliant.” He shifted on the bed, grunting with pain.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll text Arnold and have him meet you downstairs in the lobby. Okay?”
“Text me your address and I’ll be there in about ten,” she said.
* * *
She was there in thirteen minutes. He heard his front door open and he could have wept with relief when Kira said. “Thank you so much, Arnold. It was very nice to meet you.”
The door shut and she called his name. “Connor?”
“Hey,” he shouted. “The bedroom is the last door on the left.”
Ten seconds later, the door opened, and both Kira and Gideon walked into the room. Kira crossed the room and stared horrified at his knee. “Oh, Connor.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said.
“I call bullshit on that,” Gideon said.
“Hey, Gideon,” Connor said.
“I called Gideon and asked him to meet me here because I don’t think I’m strong enough to help support you,” Kira said. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that was a good idea.” Shit, she really was fucking brilliant. “Not to be rude, but I really need to use the bathroom.”
“Right, of course.” She stepped back. “Gideon, can you help him?”
“Sure.” Gideon stepped closer to the bed and studied his knee. “Christ, that looks fucking painful. You gonna pass out on me when I get you standing?”
“No,” Connor said.
“You sure?”
“Mostly. But I am going to piss the damn bed in about two minutes.”
“Well, in that case,” Gideon said, “let’s get your ass to the bathroom.”
* * *
“Hey, remember last night when I was crouching over your body and telling you that you needed to go to the hospital? Is this a good time to tell you I told you so?” Jack ducked past the curtain in the emergency room and grinned at Connor.
Connor grimaced. “Please tell me I’m not your patient.”
“You bet your sweet dentist ass, you are,” Jack replied with another grin. He held his hand out to Kira. “We haven’t formally met. Jack Reed.”
“Kira Walker. I’m Connor’s girlfriend.” She probably didn’t need to say that, but she liked saying it. If she hadn’t been so freaked out about Connor’s knee, she might have stopped to wonder why she liked it so much.
“Nice to meet you, Kira.” Jack gave her hand a firm shake before grabbing the chart from the end of Connor’s bed. “We’ll do an X-ray first to make sure there isn’t a fracture or dislocation and then we’ll go from there.”
He eyed Connor’s swollen knee. “Talk to me about your knee history.”
Connor glanced at Kira and for a moment, she was certain he was going to ask her to leave. To her relief, he reached for her hand instead.
“Just before I graduated high school, I was out on a quad with friends. I had an accident and I tore my ACL, MCL and meniscus.”
Connor’s voice was flat, but she could see how tense his body was, feel that tension leaking out from his hand into hers.
“What grade were the tears?” Jack’s voice had lost all of its previous good humour.
“Grade three tears on both the MCL and the meniscus.”
“Okay.” Jack bent over the bed and studied Connor’s knee. “Arthroscopic?”
Connor nodded. “Yeah, all in one shot. They repaired the MCL and meniscus and reconstructed the ACL.”
“I’m assuming it was an autograft?” Jack said.
“Yes. The surgeon said it would significantly decrease the risk of re-rupture.” Connor’s hand squeezed down on hers briefly and he swallowed hard. “But I know the risk of re-rupture can increase in your thirties.”
“Usually closer to thirty-five.” Jack was studying his chart again. “Did they use hamstring or patella for the reconstruction?”
“Patella,” Connor said.
Kira listened quietly. They could have been talking Greek for all she understood.
“Okay. X-ray today and we’ll book you in for an MRI for tomorrow or Tuesday. That will tell us if you’ve re-ruptured the ACL or torn the MCL or PCL.”
“Do you think that’s what I’ve done?” Connor’s voice was like broken glass on gravel.
“We really won’t know without the MRI,” Jack said. “Sorry, Connor. In the meantime, you know the drill… keep your knee elevated, ice it, and no weight on it.”
“I’ve got an extraction tomorrow, a root canal and -”
Jack shook his head. “You need to take the week off from work.”
“Jack -”
“Nope,” Jack said. “No arguing. If you have re-torn or re-ruptured something, you don’t want to make it worse. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. How’s your pain level? On a scale of one to ten?”
“Seven,” Connor said.
Jack turned to Kira. “You know him better than me. What’s his actual pain level?”
“Nine, closer to ten,” Kira said.
“Kira.” Connor gave her a pointed look.
“He couldn’t walk on it this morning,” she said. “I had to get my brother to come over and practically carry him to the bathroom and then to the car just to get him here. He was really pale and shaking and I thought he might throw up.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “We’ll send you home with a knee brace to keep it stable while we’re waiting for the MRI. I’ll write you a prescription for pain meds and an anti-inflammatory. But we’ll also give you a shot here at the hospital that’ll significantly reduce your pain level. Are you staying with Kira while you recuperate?”
“Oh, um…”
Connor looked like a deer in the headlights.
“He is,” Kira said. “I have a bathroom and a guest room on the main floor, so he won’t need to navigate any stairs or anything like that.”
“Perfect,” Jack said. “It’s slow at the moment, so it shouldn’t take long to get you the X-ray. Hopefully, we’ll have you doped up and out of here in the next few hours.”
He wrote something on Connor’s chart before smiling at Kira. “The shot we give him today will last twelve hours, but if you can get the prescription filled today, he can have two pills around eleven tonight, all right?”
Kira nodded. “Yes. I’ll stop at Walgreens and get it filled.”
“Good.” Jack turned to Connor. “The shot’s going to make you… loopy. Don’t be an idiot and try to get out of bed or anything like that on your own. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Connor said.
Jack grinned at Kira. “It’s well known that doctors make the worst patients. If he gives you any grief, just call me and I’ll come over and have a talk with him.”
Kira smiled at the doctor. He looked to be in his forties, and he was handsome with his dark hair and dark eyes, and tall, lean body. “I appreciate that, Dr. Reed. Thank you.”
“Call me Jack,” he said. “Connor, I’ll see you before you get discharged.”
“Thanks, Jack,” Connor said.
Jack left and Kira gave Connor a tentative smile. He studied her without speaking and she squeezed his hand. “Do you want me to ask them if you can have the shot before the X-ray?”
He shook his head. “No, I took some Tylenol before I called you. It’s helped a little.”
She gave him a disbelieving look that he ignored. He lowered his voice. “I appreciate you telling Jack that I could stay with you, but I’m not expecting you to play nursemaid. If you could just help me back to my apartment, I’ll be fine to -”
“No, you won’t be,” she said. “You heard what Jack said. You need to keep it up and rest and ice it. You need my help, Connor.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You’re not,” she said. “I am happy to help. Staying at my place will make it easier for both of us. We’ll get you back to my place and once you’re settled, I’ll get your prescription filled and grab some clothes and toiletries from your place.”
“Thank you, Kira.” He gave her a grateful look. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” she said. “It’s not a problem.”
His face suggested he didn’t quite believe her, but he nodded. “I need to call Grant, let him know what’s going on.”
“Okay.” She handed him his phone. “I’m going to run out to the waiting room and give Gideon an update. I’ll be back soon.”
She stood and leaned over, brushing her mouth against his. “See you in a little bit.”
* * *
“I don’t think he should climb the porch steps on those crutches.” Kira gave Gideon a worried look as they stood at the bottom of the steps to her house.
Connor was standing to Gideon’s right, crutches tucked under his arms, and he made a pfft sound. “I’m fine. I’m a total pro at crutches. See?” He waved one crutch wildly in the air and Gideon grabbed his arm when he nearly fell on his ass.
“You’re also incredibly high,” Gideon said. “Kira, take his crutches and I’ll help him up the stairs.”
She moved to Connor’s other side but when she tried to take the crutches, he gave her a stubborn look. “I can do it.”
“You can’t,” she said. His pupils were blown, and he was swaying back and forth like a flower in the breeze. “Gideon’s right, you’re too high from that shot they gave you.”
“They put it in my butt cheek,” Connor said to Gideon. “The nurse just jabbed it in, didn’t warn me or anything. I didn’t cry though.”
“That’s good, buddy.” Gideon clapped Connor lightly on the back. “Give your crutches to Kira.”
“I don’t wanna.”
Oh my God, if she wasn’t so worried about him, she’d find Connor ridiculously adorable when he was hopped up on pain meds.
“Don’t argue, please,” she said. “Give me the crutches.”
“Give me a kiss.” Connor grinned at her.
Gideon rolled his eyes when Kira hesitated. “Oh, for God’s sake, Kira, just give him a kiss. I don’t have all damn day.”
She stood on her tiptoes and gave Connor a soft kiss. He licked the seam of her lips and she pulled back in a hurry. Playing tonsil tag with Connor in front of her brother wasn’t her idea of a good time.
“Crutches.” She held out her hands and gave Connor a stern look.
He handed them over as Gideon steadied him with a hand around his arm.
“How you wanna do this, big guy?” Connor said to Gideon. “Are we thinking a half hop, half drag combination or…”
With a loud grunt, Gideon picked him up like he was a knight rescuing a fair maiden, being careful not to touch Connor’s right knee encased in a brace. Kira swallowed her immediate spat of giggles as Connor made a high-pitched “Whee!” and slung his arm around Gideon’s shoulder.
Gideon staggered up the first step. “Fuck, man, how much do you weigh?”
Connor grinned at Kira over Gideon’s shoulder. “I look skinny but I’m all muscle, baby. Stupid fire boy thinks he’s strong, but I could totally beat him in an arm-wrestling contest.”
Gideon grunted his way up another step and Connor said, “What? I could. I’m way better for your sister than idiotic Daniel Moore.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, buddy,” Gideon puffed as he crested the final step.
Breathing heavily, he set Connor down on the porch.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to carry me over the threshold?” Connor asked.
Kira giggled as Connor leaned against Gideon and batted his eyelashes at him. “It’s tradition, big fella.”
Gideon laughed. “Kira, give your boyfriend his crutches before he starts trying to make out with me.”
“I can’t help it if I’m a friendly guy,” Connor said as Kira helped him tuck the crutches under his arms. She unlocked and opened the front door.
Moving surprisingly quick, Connor crutched his way into the house and down the hallway.
“Guest room is down around the corner.” Kira walked behind him, keeping her hands out in case Connor fell over. He was a little wobbly, but he made it to the bed and collapsed on it with a soft sigh.
She helped him lift his leg onto the bed and then grabbed some extra pillows from the closet and placed them on the bed.
“Ready?” she asked.
Connor nodded, and bracing one hand under his thigh and the other under his calf, she raised his leg and slowly swung it over until it was resting on the tower of pillows. She tucked another under his head, and he gave her a sweet smile. “Thank you, honey.”
“You’re welcome.” She took the blanket from the end of the bed and tucked it around him as he yawned hugely. “Get some sleep.”
“Nappie-time,” he sang out before sliding a hand out from under the blanket and grabbing her wrist. “Kiss me.”
She pressed a kiss against his mouth, pulling back when he tried to deepen it. “Be good, Connor.”
“I am.” He traced her collarbone with his fingers. “Get naked and nap with me.”
“I’m still in the room,” Gideon said.
Connor’s eyes widened. In a loud whisper, he said, “Don’t panic, but I think your brother heard me tell you to get naked.”
“He did,” Gideon said.
“I’m about to be arrested, aren’t I?” Connor said.
Kira laughed. “No. I’m gonna walk Gideon out and then I’ll come back with some water for you. Stay in bed, Connor.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His slow grin and the way his gaze dipped to her chest, made her wish she could get naked and nap with him.
Instead, she patted his shoulder and stood.
“Thank you for carrying me up the stairs, Gideon,” Connor said. “I’ll cherish that moment always.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Gideon glanced at Kira. “You sure you don’t need me to stick around for a bit?”
“No, I think we’re good. I’ll call you if I need anything though.” Kira shut the bedroom door with a soft click.
“What are you going to do with him tomorrow when you’re at work?”
Kira shrugged. “Not sure yet. I guess it will depend on how much pain he’s in and how bad the swelling is.”
“I can do a few drive-by’s and check in on him,” Gideon said.
“Thanks, Gideon.” Kira followed him down the hallway to the front door. “I really appreciate everything you did for him.”
“No problem.” Gideon paused on the threshold. “Did you tell Connor about your former crush on Daniel?” He accented the word former just a little, but it was enough to make Kira’s stomach clench.
“Uh…why do you ask?” she stalled.
“Seems a little weird that he’d be trying to convince me that he’s better for you than Daniel. Especially since you’re already dating him.”
She didn’t say anything, and Gideon leaned against the jamb. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but Connor seems like a great guy, even if he is from Willington. Don’t give up what you have with Connor for a guy who will never be good enough for you.”
Kira made herself smile at him. “Stop worrying about me and my love life. Okay? Maybe I should start worrying about yours for a change. You haven’t dated anyone since you moved back. Why not?”
Like she suspected he would, Gideon immediately straightened and stepped onto the porch. “Call me if you need me, kid.”
“Bye, Gideon.”
* * *
Kira stuck her head into the guest room. She’d been upstairs in the tub when she’d heard the thump-thud-thump of Connor’s crutches. By the time she’d gotten out of the tub and gone downstairs, Connor was out of the guest bathroom and back in the bedroom.
He eased back onto the bed and she frowned at him. “You should have called me. I could have helped you.”
He just shrugged. “I had it. It’s been a while since I’ve been on crutches, but apparently it’s like riding a bike.”
She could hear the bitterness in his voice, and she rushed over to the side of the bed, helping him to prop his leg up on the stack of pillows again. His face was pale and a little sweaty and after sleeping most of the afternoon away, the high from the drugs was long gone.
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts but I can’t give you any more pain meds until tonight before bed,” she said.
“It’s fine.” He waved off her concern. “The pain is manageable.”
“Is it?”
He nodded and she sat down on the side of the bed as he stared moodily at the ceiling. She waited a beat and then said, “I’ll bring you an ice pack for your knee and then I’ll start dinner. I’ve got a lap tray that I can bring in for you to eat dinner.”
“You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot,” he said. “I can eat dinner at the table.”
“Not for a few days,” she said. “It’s better to keep it raised as much as possible, which means bed rest. You heard Jack. You only get out of bed to use the bathroom.”
He grunted irritably and, still looking at the ceiling, said, “I don’t want to be a pain in your ass.”
“You aren’t,” she said.
Another bitter laugh. “You didn’t sign up for this and you’re not required to help me. Our relationship is fake, so -”
“I want to help,” Kira said.
“Or you feel obligated because people in this town think we’re dating, and you’ll look like a bad girlfriend if you don’t.”
“I don’t care what people think. I’m doing this because I’m a nice person and my friend is hurt and needs my help.” Now she was the one who sounded irritable.
“Is that what we are? Friends?”
She paused, feeling weirdly hurt. “You don’t think we’re friends?”
He blew his breath out with a loud puff of air. “Sorry. Yeah, we’re friends. And I appreciate what you’re doing even if I’m acting like a dick.”
She patted his thigh. “It’s okay. You’re in pain and upset about your knee. I get it. But, stop feeling bad about asking me for help because I don’t feel obligated and I want to help you. All right?”
“Thanks, Kira.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be right back with the ice pack and then I’ll get started on dinner.”
* * *
“Are you sure you had enough to eat?” Kira returned from the kitchen and took the lap tray off the bed. Connor stared at her perfect ass in her yoga pants as she bent and tucked the tray between the nightstand and the wall.
“Positive. Thank you again, you’re a really good cook.”
She laughed. “I’m so not a good cook, but even I can’t screw up chicken and rice.”
“I think you’re a good cook.” He tried not to stare at her tits as she sat down on the side of the bed.
“Only because you think popcorn is an acceptable dinner,” Kira said with another laugh.
He studied her face, itching to reach out and snag a strand of that amazingly soft blonde hair between his fingers. His urge to touch her got stronger with every passing day. The part of him that was worried about what that meant, was almost buried under the part of him that desperately wanted her soft body tucked under him while he slid his dick into her wet, tight pussy.
Kind of hard to have sex with Kira when your knee is totally fucked.
He massaged just above the brace on his right knee. There was an ice pack on his knee, and he wasn’t even the least bit tempted to lift it and study the swollen mess. He didn’t want to see the bruising that would be starting or the way the flesh strained as the swelling worsened. It reminded him too much of what it looked like after the accident.
You know you fucked it again, right? Everything’s torn to shit in there and this time they won’t be able to fix it. You’ll never walk right again, let alone jog or run or play baseball.
He tried to block out his inner voice, afraid that if he started to listen to it too long, he’d lose his fucking shit. The thought that his knee might be jacked for good sent terror through him. It didn’t help that inner Connor wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how he was facing a long road of surgery and physical therapy, and what Grant would say when Connor was off work for six goddamn months or more, and –
“Connor?”
Kira’s soft voice pulled him out of his spiral. He stared at her, knowing his anxiety was written all over his damn face, but utterly helpless to hide it.
When she took his hand, he linked their fingers together, fighting back his urge to ask her to lie on the bed beside him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him that everything would be fine.
“Everything will be fine,” Kira said.
He jerked, sending the ice pack sliding sideways on his knee. He winced when fresh pain lanced up and down his leg. Shit, was she reading his goddamn mind? Kira reached out with her free hand and shifted the ice pack back onto his knee, her touch infinitely gentle.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, and he was holding her hand too tight. He made himself relax his fingers so he wouldn’t crush hers.
“It’s going to be just fine,” she said. “I did some reading while you were sleeping this afternoon and I know I’m not a doctor or anything, but I don’t think you’ve torn your ACL or MCL again. You didn’t do a sharp stop and twist or anything like that, and that’s usually how they get torn, right? You go one way and your knee goes the other and it’s,” she paused, “rip city.”
His smile was more of a grimace and she rubbed her thumb along the knuckle of his thumb. “I know it’s really sore and looks awful, but it isn’t fractured or dislocated and the odds of it being re-ruptured or re-torn are really low. It’s probably so swollen and sore because your knee was already traumatized. I’ve seen you limping, and I know it bugs you sometimes. It’s predisposed to be injured more easily.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said.
She squeezed his hand until he looked at her. “It’s going to be fine. A few days of bed rest and anti-inflammatories and the swelling will go down. You’ll see.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?” He said.
“I do.” Her voice was firm and the way she refused to even accept any alternative about his knee was, oddly, making him feel better.
“Thanks, Kira,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She released his hand and he wanted to capture it again almost immediately. “Now, I’ll bring my laptop in here and we can watch something on Hulu or Netflix. What do you think?”
“I’d like that,” he said.
“Great.” She stood and smiled at him. “If you’re really lucky, I might even make you some popcorn later.”