“And you?” Whitney took a longer look at him and then around the room. She spotted his big black duffel bag and a garment bag hanging on the bathroom. “Are you sleeping here?”
He nodded. “Mick’s here for you during the day, and I’m here at night.”
“Eddie, you need quality sleep, too. You can’t possibly be comfortable in that chair.”
“It reclines.”
“Eddie, go home and sleep.”
“No.”
She stared at him. His jaw was set, and he’d lifted his shoulders. She recognized that stance. There was no winning this one. “Well…just keep the snoring to a minimum, okay?”
Eddie laughed and slid off the bed. He checked his watch. “Nurses will be in soon for your vitals and to swap out your IV bag.” He thumped the almost empty bag hanging from the nearby pole. “So Mick told me he talked to you about your injuries, but apparently all the drugs they’re giving you may make you foggy, so if you forgot anything or were confused I’m supposed to answer any questions.”
“I remember enough.” She caught sight of the water pitcher and motioned toward it. “Can I have a little water?”
“Sure.” Eddie fixed her a glass and held it as she sipped. “You’re still not allowed to eat, though. I guess they’ll probably put you on punishment rations for a few days and slowly work you back to real food.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Hospital JELL-O! Yummy!”
“It’s not that bad. Or, at least, the stuff they had at the VA hospital was okay,” he clarified.
A troubling thought occurred to her. She was taking in a lot of fluid via the IV and a little by mouth, but she couldn’t go to the restroom. Whitney gave a little wiggle and confirmed her worst fears. She lifted the sheet covering her to the waist and found the clear tube appearing from underneath her gown and running down the side of her bed to a collection box. “Oh, god! How embarrassing!”
“Whit.”
“No, Eddie. It’s gross!” Her face flamed. “You’re, like, watching me pee.”
He frowned. “Hardly.”
“I want this thing out of me.” She sounded irrational, but this was just too much.
“Whitney.” Eddie spoke her name in that low voice that made her melt. “You need the catheter. You can’t get in and out of bed right now. When you’re able to move around some, they’ll pull it, and then Mick or I or one of the nurses will help you use the restroom.” He held up a hand when she started to protest at the degradation of sharing her bathroom trips with another person. “You’re just going to have to get over it. You’re going to need help as you recover. Better to deal with one of us helping you in the restroom than falling and injuring yourself again, right?”
She grudgingly nodded. “It’s still gross.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s a natural body function.”
“Yeah…well…whatever.” The drugs made her loopy, and her usual witty comebacks deserted her.
Eddie slid back into his chair, signaling the discussion was over. “You want to watch TV, or do you want me to read to you?”
“Depends on what you’re reading.”
He held up the magazine he’d been looking at earlier. Whitney giggled at the sight of the fashion magazine she’d once worked at in his meaty hand. He grinned and opened it back up. “So, apparently, blazers are going to be big this fall.”
Whitney grinned. “Really?”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie confirmed as got comfortable. “Jewel tones, whatever the hell those are, will be hot, but no stripes…”
Chapter Thirteen
Nine Weeks Later
Mick stepped out of his car and walked around to the front door of the house. Whitney’s car hadn’t moved from its spot in the garage in over two months, and Eddie had beat him home and taken the other space. As he slung his backpack strap over one shoulder, Mick considered the possibility of renovating the garage to make room for another space or even buying a whole new house. If the three of them were staying together permanently, the current bedroom setup was kind of a nuisance. Maybe a different layout altogether would be better.
The delicious smells of basil and sage tickled Mick’s nose as he entered the house. Italian meant Eddie was cooking. No one made pasta like the big man.
“Whitney! Get off that stepladder. Now!”
Mick groaned as the two of them started in on one another in the kitchen. He tucked his backpack in the hall closet and slipped off his Crocs. Shaking his head, he wondered how much longer they’d continue to snark at one another. Ever since Whitney had come home from the hospital, she’d been pushing the boundaries and Eddie had been dragging her back inside the metaphorical fence, kicking and screaming.
Loins girded, Mick entered the kitchen. He stopped a foot or so inside the doorway and watched the snapping and arm-waving. God, this was just ridiculous. “Enough! You two sound like a couple of toddlers squabbling in the sandbox.”
“Tell her to stay off the stepladder.” Eddie gestured wildly with a slotted spoon. “She shouldn’t be climbing.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Whitney cursed in exasperation. “I’m not a china doll, okay? I won’t break.”
Mick rolled his eyes and stepped forward to referee. They both had valid points, so he had to play this one carefully. “Whitney, Eddie is right. You could lose your balance and hit your chest or strain too far with your arms and hurt the healing muscles.”
“But-”
“No,” Mick cut her off. “And you”-he pointed to Eddie-“need to stop hovering like a helicopter parent. It’s been nine weeks, Eddie. She has to start returning to her normal routine.” He eyed Whitney. “Slowly and carefully.”
The two of them pursed their lips and returned to their tasks. God, they were so much alike and so predictable. Mick tried not to laugh as he scooted between them to wash his hands at the sink.
He leaned against the counter as he dried his hands and looked them over. Eddie had changed into his usual post-shift outfit of athletic shorts and a tee. Whitney had on a simple pink cotton dress. Both were barefoot, which annoyed him to no end considering they were in the kitchen. How many times had he asked them to put on shoes while cooking?
Mick dropped the towel and shoved off the counter. He moved closer to Whitney. He slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. She leaned her head back against him as he whispered, “I missed you today.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm.” He kissed her cheek. “What did you do today?”
“Kadie was here bright and early, so we worked for a couple of hours and had lunch. Natalie dropped by for an hour this afternoon. The rest of the time I caught up on e-mail and did some brainstorming for that new line I’m helping launch in a few months. I watched my judge shows, too.”
Mick laughed. Since her hospital stay, Whitney had been hooked on a three-hour block of judge shows. He was glad to hear she’d done some more work with Natalie, a private trainer who specialized in helping clients regain strength after major surgeries or trauma. She’d worked with a buddy of Eddie’s who took a bullet to the shoulder during a routine traffic stop, and so far Whitney seemed to enjoy her.
“Did Natalie work you hard?” Mick stepped away and headed to the refrigerator for something cold to drink.
“Nah.” Whitney dug around in a drawer in search of a utensil. “We did twenty minutes of walking on the treadmill, some arm work with those tiny five-pound barbells, and then some stretching and yoga-type stuff.”
“You feel okay during the workout? No dizziness or pain? Did you make sure to stay well hydrated?”
Eddie snorted and elbowed him. “I thought we weren’t supposed to helicopter parent?”