Maybe he did. Maybe he was just trying to unnerve her.
She’d seen a plastic, turquoise, distinctively shaped container on the bottom shelf of the stand beside his bed when she’d come in.Reached for it.
Handed it to him.
And left the room.
* * *
He was not leaving a filled urinal for Iris, or anyone, to empty. Sitting up fully, with no support at his back, Scott lost his breath, winced, but, with his hands clutching mattress and sheet, he didn’t lie back again.
As the first wave of pain passed, he slowly released the grip of one hand and pulled back the covers. Getting his first look at his left leg. Though he couldn’t remember the fall, he’d been aware of the bandage running from his calf up his thigh on his left side since he’d regained consciousness.
Had another moment of acute nausea as he bent to get a look and his back shocked him again. He hadn’t been prepared for the discoloration on his shin, either.
Didn’t matter. He was getting out of there.
Which he couldn’t do if he reinjured himself. Perhaps waiting to hear doctor’s orders, to know what he’d done to himself, and what the doctor had done to fix him, was the wisest choice.
Along with waiting for crutches.
For his back, not his knee. Other than a dull throb, he couldn’t feel the knee at the moment. The back most definitely did not want to bear weight.
Or movement.
He’d deal with it. Grin and bear it.
Just needed a sec to prepare.
With his hands behind him, he started to lean back against the mattress. Slowly. As imperceptively as he could manage while still making progress toward the goal.
“Scott?” Iris’s voice came from just the other side of the door. “You okay?”
He didn’t want to use the muscles, or energy, required by talking. Didn’t want a slew of medical personnel to come running.
And so, gritting his teeth, let go with his hands and fell back against the mattress. Feeling the sweat roll down between his shoulder blades. Lying back for a brief second, he closed his eyes, and said, “Fine. It’s safe to come in.”
And when the door opened, he found the wherewithal to clear his expression, meet her gaze fully with eyes wide open. The pain had receded.
He wasn’t moving again until he’d been told how to do so without killing himself.
And when Iris reached toward the urinal he’d set on the table beside his head so it would be in easy reach once he was standing, his tone was filled with plenty of aggression when he said, “You touch that and I’m getting up right now to stop you and walk out of here.”
He meant it, too.
She didn’t need to know that, in that moment, intention and capability were at odds.
As soon as his talk with the doc, they wouldn’t be.
Luckly, Iris took him at his word. Sitting back in her chair, she didn’t glance toward the plastic container again.
And Scott felt a little better about the hours ahead.
He’d established his boundaries.
No matter what, Scott was in charge.
* * *
