He scooted to his right to hold the railing with his strong side. He hopped down the first step, landing only on his right leg. When that seemed to work, he repeated the motion until he reached the bottom step, sweating and completely out of breath. After waiting a good minute, he hobbled into the kitchen doorway just as Mia came back in from the beach.
Her eyes widened. “You’re out of your room.”
“And you’re still here. Where’s Rose?”
She walked to the sink to wash her hands. “I gave her the rest of the week off.”
“You gave her . . . You had no authority to do that!”
Drying her hands on a towel, she shrugged. “She’s getting up there in years, Cole. You can’t keep her on those hours. I’m here.”
Yeah, she was. Why? He should be pissed. She’d barged in here after ten years, pushing her way back into his life and throwing his world into chaos. Looking at her, at everything he wanted and couldn’t have, he just couldn’t hold on to the anger.
Through the years, he’d come to idolize the memory of her. Put her up on a pedestal. What they had was so long ago and they were so young. It still got to him, either because of how it ended or because of the thought of what could have been. He hadn’t had anyone in his life since she walked out that he could trust as openly as he did her. No one he connected with on such a deep level.
“What’s for dinner?”
“BLTs.”
He made a noncommittal sound.
She fisted her hands on her hips. “I thought you’d hold out at least another day. I wasn’t planning on something special.”
He didn’t need special. He just needed sustenance. “It smells good.”
“I haven’t started cooking yet.”
Right. He hobbled to the table and plopped down in a chair as she pulled a package of bacon out of the fridge. After she laid the strips in a pan, she turned to face him. “I was wondering if it would be okay with you if Rose moved into the guesthouse? She’s staying with her daughter and could use the privacy. Plus, it would save her from driving.”
“Aren’t you staying there? Where would you sleep?”
A crooked smile creased her mouth. “Not kicking me out today?” He didn’t respond, so she shrugged. “I’ve been in the bedroom next to yours the past two nights.”
The bedroom right next to his. A whisper away.
“Is it okay?”
He couldn’t concentrate with her around. “Fine, fine.”
“She needs normal hours, too. Nine to five.”
“Fine.” He should’ve done that long ago, but he’d grown too dependent on Rose.
Mia poured a glass of orange juice and set it in front of him. He drank it as she sliced tomatoes. The smell of applewood bacon filled the kitchen and he damned near leapt for the pan. She finished compiling two sandwiches and set them in front of him. He had just enough manners left to wait for her to join him. They ate in uncomfortable silence until she pushed away the second half of her BLT.
“You still eat like a bird,” he mumbled.
“And you still eat like a famine is coming.”
She glanced at his empty plate, then up at him, and a smile traced the corners of her mouth. He almost choked. The smile eventually made it to her eyes. He couldn’t look away from all that blue. Somewhere in the space between them the past collided with the present.
“Your eyes are still blue.” He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until her smile fell and her eyes rounded in painful memory.
Long ago, when either was having a bad day, he would tell her, Your eyes are still blue. And she’d retort by saying . . .
“And you’re still rich.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Back to her eyes. “Yeah.”
Abruptly, she stood and cleared their plates, pulling him from the past. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. She loaded the plates into the dishwasher and then sliced some strawberries into a small dish. After adding whipping cream, she set them in front of him.
“Dessert.”
This wasn’t his idea of dessert, but he took a bite and chewed.
“Now that you’re done brooding upstairs, I’m making some changes around here.”
He dropped his fork and stared at her. “Like what?”
“Tomorrow, you shower and shave. You look like a vagrant. Afterward, I’ll cut your hair. And we’re burning that robe.”
He looked at himself, unable to argue. He’d let himself go to hell. He hadn’t even cared. Strange thing, he kinda cared now. If the last memory she had of him wasn’t bad enough, this one would trump it. He needed to start complying with her demand to help him, show her he could be a good guy again. Then at least when she left this time around, it would be under better circumstances and with a better image of him.
“I’m implementing a diet high in calcium, vitamin C, and protein. You’re also doing one hour a day in the gym with me three times a week. The days we’re not in the gym, we’ll take a walk. I’m off on Sundays, so you are, too.”
He’d barely made it down the stairs tonight. “And if I refuse?”
Her grin was wicked.
He sighed. The sooner he complied with this, the sooner she’d be gone. Though that thought broke a chunk of his heart away, he knew she had to go. They were all wrong for each other as kids and nothing on that front had changed. The longer she stayed, the blurrier the line became. In his mind anyway. She still hated him.
He sucked in a sharp breath when his leg suddenly throbbed, not in the usual spot, but lower in the calf. It intensified until he cried out.
She knelt by his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Hurts,” he ground out.
“Where?”
He pointed.
“Does it usually hurt there?”
He shook his head.
“Does it feel hot or more like a cramp?”
“Cramp.”
She stood. “It’s a charley horse. Bring your toes up and flex your foot.”
He did as she said and the pain lessened. He blew out a breath.
Mia walked to the fridge and pulled out a Gatorade. “You’re dehydrated. Drink this tonight. If the pain returns, just flex your foot. With your injuries, you have to watch for blood clots. If it ever feels hot, sharp, and stabbing, you call the doctor right away.”
He nodded, bringing his foot down. The leg still cramped, but not as harshly as before. She knelt by his feet again, this time with a bottle of hand lotion from the sink. “What are you doing?”
“Rubbing the calf to loosen the muscle.” She squirted a quarter-sized amount of lotion into her palm.
“No.”
“But, Cole . . .”
She could not touch him. He’d lose it. “I said no!”
The roaring tone of his voice careened her backward. He felt like an absolute shit but couldn’t bring himself to apologize.
Several seconds ticked by before she straightened. She rubbed the lotion into her hands. The silence continued. “I’m going upstairs to straighten your room. The next time you have a flashback or an episode, I’ll be there. We’ll see if we can get you through it.”
She was still too damn nice for her own good.
As she walked past, he grabbed her arm. “Why are you doing this?”
She didn’t look at him. “Closure.”
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