CHAPTER NINE
Levi
I’m working when Lindsey decides to leave. Promising to check in later, she offers a pathetically false smile before slipping out the back. Today’s the only time I’ve seen her leveled. When she mentioned she should be getting married today, she about knocked me off my feet. An unpleasant sense of possessiveness wrenched my gut, too.
So, Rob’s her fiancé and, apparently, a cheating lowlife. I shouldn’t rush to judgment, though, since I’ve never committed to any relationship and don’t know how long I could be loyal. But based on my own experience with Lindsey, I’m certain she doesn’t deserve to be deceived.
She puts up a brave front, but she’s basically a little girl lacking sufficient confidence to manage her own life. How does someone so privileged, pretty, and smart end up with such insecurities?
It hurt my heart to see her curled up on the floor in a hot mess of hair and tears. Comforting a teary woman was a first for me. Oddly, I could’ve stood there for a long time, stroking her hair, if she hadn’t broken free. She felt good in my arms. It’s disquieting. Neither of us should get attached in any way. She’s rebounding and I’m not boyfriend material. No strings—it’s the only safe way for me. Lindsey’s not a no-strings gal.
I shut down the laptop and consider her sorrow—her non–wedding day. Selfishly, I’m grateful Rob’s a jerk. Otherwise, Lindsey and I wouldn’t know each other at all. Also, I’d be completely alone in my compromised condition.
Of course, I realize the loss would be all mine. She’d likely be better off having not moved next door to me.
I haven’t met many truly unselfish people in my life. She’ll be a lovely bride for someone, someday. She won’t find him, though, pampered girl, until she knows herself better. She’s got a ways to go before that day arrives.
Enough about Lindsey, for Christ’s sake. Switch topics, Levi. I’ve never been so preoccupied with another person in my life.
Yearning to sit outside after too many days indoors, I stare through the glass doors at the lounge chairs on the deck. They look comfortable enough for my back. I take my book with me as I lumber across the living room. Each step causes serious discomfort, but at least I’m walking. Could be worse.
When I push open the heavy slider, my back spasms in response to the muscle movement in my core. Damn. I couldn’t move a muscle without screaming if I weren’t taking pain meds. Maybe I should take the full dose, but I’ve read too many horror stories in those spinal surgery chat rooms. I’d rather suffer the pain than end up an addict.
Gingerly, I lower myself onto the chaise and open my book. The high winds have blown out the waves, so at least I’m not missing out on decent surf. However, it’s impossible to read the flapping pages, especially since the narcotics make me drowsy. I rest the book against my chest and close my eyes to daydream under the tent of a clear, blue sky.
“My God, Levi!” Lindsey’s admonishment startles me out of a deep sleep. “How long have you been out here?”
“What time is it?” I squint up at her, barely able to move my stiff body.
“Two o’clock.” Her hands rest on her hips, a sight that’s become quite common this week. “You’re as red as a lobster. Did you wear any sunscreen?”
She lifts the book off my chest and gasps, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter. I glance down to see a square white patch of skin inset in my now ruby-red chest.
“Aw, shit.” I touch the delicate skin.
“Oh!” She revels in my error and reaches out to touch my sunburn, but pulls back just in time. “If you want to nap, why not sleep in bed?”
“I haven’t been outside since Monday. I wanted some fresh air.” I’m sure my face is burnt, too. “Didn’t intend to fall asleep. The damn painkillers make me woozy.”
“Sorry, you’re right.” She stifles her laughter. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It looks funny, though. Do you have aloe?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Actually, you should probably wash your hair and take a sponge bath, too. How should we do that? You can’t get the incision wet.” She’s frowning now, contemplating the options. Paying absolutely no attention to whether or not I agree, she jabbers on. “I guess I could bring hot water out here and use it, and the hose, to shampoo your hair for you. If you lie on the lounge chair, your back won’t bend or get wet. I can sponge you down the back and hard-to-reach places, like your feet. You can do the rest on your own. It’s perfect because all the soapy water will evaporate. No mess!” She’s nodding and surveying the deck, still ignoring me.