the same thing, or had the fact I was now an invalid put any kind of thought like that from his mind.
As though we were a newly married couple, Cole scooped me back up, and then balancing me on one knee, he reached out, picked up the cool pack, and dropped it onto my stomach.
I squealed and snatched it back off again. “Hey, that was cruel!”
He laughed, his eyes creasing at the corners in a way they hadn’t when he was eighteen. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
I caught him staring at me, and my heart flipped. “I thought you were taking me upstairs.” Why did everything I say make me think of him in that way?
He grinned. “Of course.”
With me clutching the cool pack in one hand, the other hand around his tattooed neck, he carried me up the stairs to the bedroom. I tried not to focus too much on the soft hairs at his nape and the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. He pushed open the door and placed me carefully on the bed.
“Wow, this place doesn’t look any different.”
I kept feeling as though we were slipping through cracks in time, brief flashes of how things had been all those years ago. Then I’d be back in the present with a sickening jolt, remembering how things were now, and how they would never go back to the way they’d been. Ever.
He stood back, his hands on his hips. “Right. Tell me exactly what you need.”
“I’m fine, Cole, thank you. I might have lost my leg, but I can still take care of myself.”
The truth was, I needed to remove my leg and see what the damage was, but I had no intention of doing so in front of Cole. The process was ungainly and embarrassing, and I wasn’t about to show him what my stump looked like, especially not if it was swollen and possibly scraped up, which I suspected it was.
“Can you just check on my dad again on the way out?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, Cole.”
He gave a regretful smile. “Any time.” He looked like he was hesitating, considering something, but then he turned and left.
Unexpected tears filled my eyes, my heart clenching. No, no, no. I couldn’t still have feelings for Cole Devonport. There would only ever be heartbreak in store for me if I allowed myself to go down that route. The feelings would never be reciprocated, and even if I allowed myself to believe for a moment that they were, there was nothing to stop him screwing everything up all over again.
***
I lay in bed that night, trying not to worry about my appointment. Wrenching my stump today might set me back weeks, and I could even end up back in a wheelchair, temporarily, at least.
Would Cole really come to drive me? It would mean he’d see my stump, and the thought filled me with anxiety. No, if he did turn up to take me, he would just wait outside. There was no reason for him to come into the office with me.
My phantom limb sensation was driving me crazy. I knew it was partly because of my anxious state that it was worse tonight, my brain sparking off too many nerve endings and trying to communicate with a limb that no longer existed, but that didn’t mean I could stop it. As I lay in bed, I had the horrible feeling I still had my leg, but instead of laying flat in a normal position, it felt as though it was bent at the knee, and my leg and foot were hanging through a hole in the mattress. I’d experienced the sensation plenty of times before, but it didn’t make it any less unnerving or distressing. I tried to shift onto my side, but now it felt as though the leg would have been bent at an unnatural angle. Even though I knew the limb wasn’t even there, never mind bent weirdly, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head and my heartrate increased, panic clutching my chest. If I continued to lie there, I’d end up with a full-blown panic attack—something that I’d started to get a handle on in recent months. I needed to distract myself, and that meant giving up on sleep.
I should probably go downstairs to check on my dad. His neck was most
As though we were a newly married couple, Cole scooped me back up, and then balancing me on one knee, he reached out, picked up the cool pack, and dropped it onto my stomach.
I squealed and snatched it back off again. “Hey, that was cruel!”
He laughed, his eyes creasing at the corners in a way they hadn’t when he was eighteen. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
I caught him staring at me, and my heart flipped. “I thought you were taking me upstairs.” Why did everything I say make me think of him in that way?
He grinned. “Of course.”
With me clutching the cool pack in one hand, the other hand around his tattooed neck, he carried me up the stairs to the bedroom. I tried not to focus too much on the soft hairs at his nape and the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. He pushed open the door and placed me carefully on the bed.
“Wow, this place doesn’t look any different.”
I kept feeling as though we were slipping through cracks in time, brief flashes of how things had been all those years ago. Then I’d be back in the present with a sickening jolt, remembering how things were now, and how they would never go back to the way they’d been. Ever.
He stood back, his hands on his hips. “Right. Tell me exactly what you need.”
“I’m fine, Cole, thank you. I might have lost my leg, but I can still take care of myself.”
The truth was, I needed to remove my leg and see what the damage was, but I had no intention of doing so in front of Cole. The process was ungainly and embarrassing, and I wasn’t about to show him what my stump looked like, especially not if it was swollen and possibly scraped up, which I suspected it was.
“Can you just check on my dad again on the way out?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, Cole.”
He gave a regretful smile. “Any time.” He looked like he was hesitating, considering something, but then he turned and left.
Unexpected tears filled my eyes, my heart clenching. No, no, no. I couldn’t still have feelings for Cole Devonport. There would only ever be heartbreak in store for me if I allowed myself to go down that route. The feelings would never be reciprocated, and even if I allowed myself to believe for a moment that they were, there was nothing to stop him screwing everything up all over again.
***
I lay in bed that night, trying not to worry about my appointment. Wrenching my stump today might set me back weeks, and I could even end up back in a wheelchair, temporarily, at least.
Would Cole really come to drive me? It would mean he’d see my stump, and the thought filled me with anxiety. No, if he did turn up to take me, he would just wait outside. There was no reason for him to come into the office with me.
My phantom limb sensation was driving me crazy. I knew it was partly because of my anxious state that it was worse tonight, my brain sparking off too many nerve endings and trying to communicate with a limb that no longer existed, but that didn’t mean I could stop it. As I lay in bed, I had the horrible feeling I still had my leg, but instead of laying flat in a normal position, it felt as though it was bent at the knee, and my leg and foot were hanging through a hole in the mattress. I’d experienced the sensation plenty of times before, but it didn’t make it any less unnerving or distressing. I tried to shift onto my side, but now it felt as though the leg would have been bent at an unnatural angle. Even though I knew the limb wasn’t even there, never mind bent weirdly, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head and my heartrate increased, panic clutching my chest. If I continued to lie there, I’d end up with a full-blown panic attack—something that I’d started to get a handle on in recent months. I needed to distract myself, and that meant giving up on sleep.
I should probably go downstairs to check on my dad. His neck was most
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