Devastated (Anger Management, #1)(77)

Deciding that the best place to start was the laundry, she picked up a large empty plastic laundry basket and headed towards Chase’s room. She didn’t bother knocking since she already knew that he was glued to the television in the living room. If she had to guess, and there was no doubt in her mind that she was right, she’d guess that’s all he ever did.

That would be changing very soon.

She cringed as she walked into his room. The sheets on his bed were well worn, dirty and in a tangled mess. Dirty clothes, trash, and garbage covered the rest of his room and it smelled like…well, there really weren’t any words to describe the odors in this room.

With a shake of her head, she opened the windows to let some fresh air in the room with the hopes that the small action would make breathing possible once again. Then she stripped the bed and threw the sheets into a pile on the floor for the trash. The blankets were salvageable. They just needed a good cleaning. She picked up the rest of his dirty clothes and headed into the bathroom they shared and immediately wished that she hadn’t.

The walk-in shower stall looked like it hadn’t been used in months. He probably hadn’t used it since the last time help had been forced on him. From what she’d heard and seen, her new patient had given up on life. He wasn’t taking care of himself and he had a bad attitude that was guaranteed to make his life miserable.

In other words, he was going to be a challenge.

She finished picking up the dirty clothes in his room, the bathroom, in the main hallway, and even in the kitchen before starting a load in the washer. Then she went around the house, picking up trash. When she walked into the living room, Chase pointedly ignored her, which was fine with her. She’d rather get the house straightened out before focusing on him. When she turned her attention to him, she wanted to be able to focus completely on him.

Once the trash was done, she attacked the bathroom and then the kitchen. She scrubbed them both until they shined. Then she attacked his room, her new room, and the foyer. Once that was done, she attacked the living room where he once again ignored her until she pulled out the vacuum. Then he screamed at her to wait for a “fucking commercial.” The only time she stopped cleaning was to offer to make him something to eat for which he replied, “Fuck. Off.” After she grabbed a bite to eat for herself, she returned to the tedious job of making the house livable.

Five hours later the house was sparkling clean. She really wished that she could sit down and relax for the rest of the night, but she still had one last thing to do and there was no way that she was putting it off until tomorrow.

Straightening her spine, she walked into the living room and stepped in front of her new responsibility. He grumbled as he tried to look around her.

Finally, when it became obvious that she wouldn’t move, he snapped, “Do you fucking mind?”

“Nope, not really.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“I have to do something,” she said casually.

“Well, then do it and get the fuck out of my way!”

She nodded slowly in agreement. “That’s a really good idea.”

He snorted in disgust as he took a sip of his beer while she walked behind him. Before he could stop her, she released the brakes and rolled the wheelchair backward. Realizing what she was up to, he reached out to grab hold of the doorway to stop her, but she moved too quickly.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Leave me alone!”

She ignored him as she turned the wheelchair around and gave it a push. He tried to take over, but she continued to push the wheelchair forward and didn’t stop until she had him in the bathroom. Once she had him inside, she locked the bathroom door behind them.

“What are you doing?” Chase asked, as he shot the closed door a wary glance.

“Not much,” Sloane said, as she set the small white plastic bench in the shower stall. Then just as quickly she rolled him inside the shower stall so that she could switch him to the bench without having to carry him. Not that she could. The man had a good eighty pounds on her, but she’d done this enough to know exactly how to get him out of his chair and onto the bench without throwing her back out or dropping him on the floor.

“No!”

“This isn’t up for discussion. You smell. While I’m working here, you’re going to take better care of yourself.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he snapped, sounding like a child. She understood where he was coming from. He was a grown man placed in a situation where he was forced to rely upon others. She could sympathize, but that’s as far as she could allow her emotions to go. He needed someone to take care of him and help him adjust to his new life even if that meant fighting him the whole way to do it.

With the swiftness of seven years’ experience, she reached over and grabbed him beneath his arms and lifted him, giving him no choice but to go with it or fall. He swore, but he didn’t fight her. Smart man.

Once she had him on the bench, she pulled the wheelchair away just as he reached for it.

“Fucking bitch!”

“That’s me,” she said easily. “Now, we can either remove your clothes or you’re taking a shower with them on. Your choice,” she said in a no-nonsense tone that clearly told him that she wasn’t going to be backing down anytime soon.

He folded his arms over his chest as she stood there, patiently waiting for him to make the next move. For several minutes, he sat there glaring at her. Finally, when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to budge, he yanked his shirt off over his head and threw it at her.