The two smaller dresser drawers at the top are likely for underclothes and socks, but I don’t know which is which. I skip them for now and open the first big drawer, relieved it’s stacked with t-shirts and sweatshirts. I grab a few of each then try the next drawer. Shorts and leggings are folded in tidy squares. I grab the running shorts she asked for, then try the next few drawers down until I find the pajamas. She asked for a sleep shirt, but in my search, I brush past cool satin. I can’t stop myself from peeling back the layers of clothes to peek at the silky nightgown at the bottom. It’s a pale blue and edged with delicate white lace and looks totally out of place against the pale wood at the bottom of the drawer.
I’m no expert in women’s clothing, but this has a very special occasion kind of vibe. There isn’t another one like it in the drawer. I stare at it for another minute, imagining her at the sales counter, excited about her find. Then I picture the silky satin hugging her perfect curves and the way the blue would bring out the flecks of gold in her eyes.
I picture her on her knees, those same pretty eyes glancing up at me for an instant before her lips wrap around my dick.
“Mroouw.”
I jump, knocking my head on the slanted ceiling. Rubbing thespot, I glare at Meg’s mini tiger. He just spins and gives me a flick of his tail. Like he’s satisfied with breaking my train of thought.
Little shit.
Returning to the drawer, I pack a long gray shirt with a snoozing polar bear on the front into the bag.
Next, it’s time to decide which top drawer has the socks. If this was my setup, and I was coming out of the shower, I’d want underwear first, so it’s more likely in the drawer closest to the bathroom.
But when I slide it open, the scraps of colorful cotton and satin inside has me slamming it shut just as fast.
I huff a slow sigh.Time to get the hell out of here.
Drawer number two has the socks I’m looking for, which means I’m back to my final item: the charging cord.
When I turn to face the bedside table, I get an idea.
Back home, Meg’s leveraging her way up the stairs.
“Whoa, there, where you headed?” I set her things down and hurry over.
She hinges onto the next step, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in concentration. “To this famous bathtub.”
“Let me help.” Guilt flickers white-hot inside me. It’s killing me seeing her struggle.
She leans on her crutches and pants a few breaths. “I’m getting a good workout.”
“You’re supposed to be resting, shortcake.” I tilt her into my arms.
“Linden,” she protests.
The way she groans my name knocks around inside me like a Ping-Pong ball. I focus on carrying her without clipping the banister andnothow good she feels in my arms.
Inside the bathroom, I set her down near the sink so she’ll have something to lean on, then turn on the tub. It’s another homesteadsalvage find Greta and I picked up last winter. It was so heavy, I had to enlist Dad and my brothers for help.
“I’ll get your shampoo and things.” I rise and head for the stairs. “You want me to bring the clothes?”
She tucks a stray curl behind her ear but won’t look at me. “Please.”
I have the urge to reach for her hand or touch her somehow to reassure her. Instead, I hurry from the room and trot down the stairs.
When I get back, she’s leaning on the edge of the tub with her crutches propped up next to her. Asking if she needs more help is on the tip of my tongue, but the tense look in her eyes is its own kind of answer, so I hang two big towels on the hooks behind the tub, then I pull out her shampoo, conditioner, razor, and the shaving cream and place them on the shelf next to the tub with a washcloth.
“I’ll be close by if you need anything.” I slip from the room, closing the door behind me.
Being idle is a surefire way for my inner monologue to get the upper hand. I need a long run, a hard paddle, or a purpose, like a project or a busy shift. But none of those things are available while I wait for Meg to finish in the bathroom, so I use the loft floor to complete my daily shoulder PT exercises, then get out my yoga mat and roller and get into some deep stretches that push the pain envelope just enough to keep my mind occupied.
My phone buzzes with a text.
MOM:
Family dinner Friday to celebrate the good news!