“I’m worried it won’t,” Mandy said.
“Well, don’t,” James said, refusing to meet her gaze. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
“I know that tone,” James said. “You’re just pretending to let this go until you can think of another approach.”
“If you say so.”
James moved around the couch, kneeling so he could be at eye level with his blonde. “I really am fine.”
Mandy reached over, running a hand down the side of his handsome face. “I hope so.”
“It’s going to be a rough week,” James said. “The doctor warned us. I figure, if we can get through this week, we can get through anything.”
“What about a zombie apocalypse?”
James smiled despite himself. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “Even a zombie apocalypse. I could be Daryl.”
“I’m Daryl,” Mandy argued. “You can be … Beth.”
James clutched at his heart in mock disbelief. “You think I’m Beth? She’s a blonde woman who sings in the middle of danger.”
“Yes, but if I’m Daryl you have to be Beth,” Mandy explained. “If you’re not, then sleeping together is going to be awkward when the zombie hordes strike.”
James nodded. “I see. I guess I’m Beth then, because I can’t imagine sleeping with anyone else – zombie apocalypse or no zombie apocalypse. I guess I’m going to need some hair dye and a really skimpy tank top.”
“I can’t wait to see that.”
Eight
The next week was rough for both of them.
James still wasn’t sleeping, and Mandy was desperately trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed.
Things got slightly better on her third day home when she was finally cleared to take a shower. Since she couldn’t lift her arms over her head without her back screaming in protest, James had climbed in with her.
Seeing her completely naked had been a shock for him. The bruises on her back were so dark they were almost purple. At the edges, where the healing was starting in earnest, a yellowish tint was beginning to creep in.
The gash on her back was angry and red. It was itchy, which was a good sign, but Mandy was constantly fighting the urge to scratch. And, when she lost the fight, she spent the next twenty minutes fighting the urge to cry because her back was throbbing.
Mandy’s chest was covered in small abrasions, most of which she ignored. The shower had been tense. Mandy was embarrassed by how she looked, and invariably hurt because James wasn’t reacting like he normally did when they showered together. He was so focused on not hurting her, he missed the obvious signs of distress on her face.
Once the shower was finished, though, Mandy’s mood brightened. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching Friday the 13th movies – with James positioning himself in a nearby chair, instead of next to her on the couch. It was subtle, but Mandy noticed.
The next few days reflected more of the same. James was walking Mandy back on the pain medication now, like Dr. Fitzgerald had instructed, and her nights were starting to become uncomfortable. She fell asleep without a problem, but she woke up aching several hours later. She tried not to wake James, who was situated as far across the bed as he could manage as he tossed and turned.
Neither of them was sleeping, and neither of them was acknowledging it to the other. The silence filling the apartment was so loud it was almost deafening.
On the seventh day, Mandy was at her limit. In the early morning hours, she shifted all the way across the bed until she was pressed into James’ side. She was still in pain, but it was manageable now. She wanted to reclaim her life – and she knew exactly where she was going to start. They both needed a little relief. Things would be better then. At least she hoped they would be better. She didn’t know what else to do.
She rested her head on his shoulder, pressing her lips into the curved ridge of his ear. His ears were sensitive. She knew he was awake, but he pretended otherwise. Mandy slipped her tongue into James’ ear, not missing the shiver that ran down his body.
She moved her hand – the one not in the cast – down his bare chest, tweaking one of his nipples before shifting it lower. She paused at the lip of his boxer shorts, running her index figure over his sculpted abs before slipping it beneath the satin fabric.
James’ hand shot out, grabbing her wrist to stop her hand from moving lower. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, no,” Mandy teased. “It’s been so long you’ve forgotten.”
James brought Mandy’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers. “You’re being bad.”