Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)(15)

Blaze

I sit to the side, watching as Trevor goes through the motions of PT. He’s putting the work in; I can tell by the way sweat dots the front of his shirt, the way his arms shake as he supports his weight. As much as he’s been on edge today, he’s given this his all. It makes me extremely proud of him, but I wish like hell he would have been honest with me and stopped brooding for most of the day.

My cell phone lights up beside me with a text from Whitney.

W: What did the doctor say? Has he gotten any nicer? I’m sorry you’re having to deal with him, but at the same time I’m thankful he has you.

B: Twelve weeks before he goes back to work. Six in a cast, then a few more in a brace, with physical therapy. It’s gonna be a long three months.

W: Oh honey, I know I’m knocked up and all, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.

It’s a nice offer for her to make, and I’ve grown very close to her in the past – God has it only been two weeks since Trevor wrecked? Feels like a lifetime ago, but if I’m in it for the long haul with him, then I’m all in.

His bad mood today doesn’t scare me. Piss me off? Yes. Scare me? No. I can still remember him telling me in the hospital this was going to be a long recovery and I’d have to be patient with him. I don’t plan on letting him go this time, no matter how hard he fights my hold. Everybody deserves a bad day, and he probably does more than anyone I know. The fact he’s kept his attitude in check for this long says a lot about the man he is.

B: Thanks! I’ll let you know if I need some girl time. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes with him.

Putting my phone facedown beside me, I watch him again, taking note of the lines of pain near his eyes, the hard line his plump lips have formed while he lifts the weight the therapist has put in his hands. I watch him lift it, hear the count as he brings it back down, and again as he repeats the motion.

No one realizes until they’re hurt how quickly your conditioning goes away. It’s important to keep him strong. If we do, he’ll transition back into his day job with no problems. Glancing at my watch, I see our hour is almost over.

Deciding I want to be nicer when we leave than when we arrived, maybe it’ll make him nicer, I grab my purse and carefully make my way out of the room. Leaving the lobby, I notice a vending machine that has water and snacks. Reaching into my wallet, I grab out a couple of dollar bills, purchasing a cold bottle of water and a package of nuts. Exiting the building into the blazing sunlight of the Alabama afternoon, I put my aviators down over my eyes and go in search of my SUV.

I feel bad, having made him walk. It was a rookie move on my part, and I won’t make him walk again. Getting in, I crank the air, noticing my temp gauge reads almost eighty. Weeks from Christmas and it’s almost eighty? Welcome to the South.

Pulling my SUV up, I leave it running in the drop off area, walking inside. I’m met with the therapist and Trevor.

“We’ll see him again on Thursday,” he tells me, handing me an appointment card. “We’ll do two days a week until he can handle three.”

“Got it,” I stuff the card in the back pocket of my jeans.

When he walks off, I put my hand at Trevor’s back, noticing for the first time, he rests against me. Our fight seems to be gone, and now we’re the same vulnerable people who’ve been dealing with these injuries together. “I pulled up, you don’t have to make it across the parking lot.”

He breathes deeply, a sigh of relief. I feel petty for making him walk earlier, but I can’t change the past. I can only try and make the future better.

We slowly make our way to where I’m parked. I almost suggest we grab a wheelchair, but I know he’ll refuse. “Not too much further,” I encourage as we exit the building.

It takes a few more minutes for him to get comfortable in the passenger seat. Then I stow the crutches before taking my spot in the driver’s seat. “That’s for you,” I point to the bottle of water and the bag of peanuts.

His head is laying back against the seat, his eyes closed.

“Trev, drink some of the water,” I reach down, open the bottle, and give it to him.

He drains it in two drinks. I’m not ashamed to say I’m mesmerized by the way his Adam’s apple pushes the water down his throat. “Do you need another bottle?”

He shakes his head, lifting his shirt up to clean his face off. His abs are truly a thing of beauty and I find myself licking my lips. Such an inappropriate line of thinking right now.

“I just wanna get home and take a pain pill. Fuck – everything he made me do hurt like a son of a bitch.”

I can hear the pain in his voice. “Then that’s what we’ll do. You look tired,” I take in the paleness of his skin, the sweat still rolling from his temple, and the redness of his lips, no doubt from where he bit them in pain.

“Exhausted. It’s not even half of what I used to do in my two-a-day workouts.”

“You’ll get there, Trev,” I reach my hand over and put it on his thigh.

Finally after the day we’ve had, he grabs hold, pushing our fingers together. “Will I? Today I feel like I’m never gonna get there,” his voice is hoarse with emotion. “It seems like an uphill challenge that I’ll never be able to overcome.”

“Today’s day one of a long recovery, Trev. It’s going to get better.”