“Shit!” he snapped when the move threatened to drop him on his ass.
Readjusting his weight, Chase pulled himself up further so that he was leaning over the counter and reached back up only to get dragged back down by his legs that were nothing more than dead weight. Throwing the cabinet above him one last look, he shook his head in disgust as his body trembled harder and he realized that he’d fucked up.
“Pookie?” Chase said, hating to ask for help, but it was either that or risk another trip to the emergency room.
“I’m not in the mood, Chase,” Sloane said, sounding adorably pissed and making him chuckle even as he was forced to pull his weight back up when his legs threatened to pull him down again.
“I could use a hand here, Pookie.”
“And I could use a patient that doesn’t try to get me felt up by security!”
“You know you loved it,” Chase managed to get out as he looked around for something to grab hold of when his body started slipping again.
“Jerk,” she said, not really sounding like she was on her way to help him.
“I really could use a little help here,” he said, trying to pull himself back up, but his arms wouldn’t work. “Shit!”
“That is the last time that I”
“Sloane!” he yelled as his arms gave out and he lost his hold.
Before he hit the floor and got tangled up in his wheelchair, Sloane was there, grabbing him from behind and safely taking him to the floor, where she kept her hold on him as he tried to catch his breath.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Sloane snapped while he lay there, gasping for air as his body continued to tremble.
“Shit,” he finally managed to get out.
Closing his eyes, he settled back against her as she ran trembling hands over him, checking for any damage as she tore into him. “You can’t do stuff like this, Chase. You either have to learn to ask for help or get off your ass and start going to your physical therapy sessions,” she bit out, sounding seriously pissed as he struggled to catch his breath and make sense out of what just happened.
“Next time you pull a stunt like that I quit,” Sloane snapped as she checked his chest and ribs for any damage.
“I couldn’t do it,” Chase said numbly as he stared at the counter in disbelief.
For the first time since the accident happened, he realized just how weak he really was and he fucking hated it. He hated being this weak, hated needing to yell for help to get a bag of fucking chips. He was truly fucking pathetic, Chase realized, forcing himself to sit up so that he could grab the wheelchair and pull it closer.
It took several tries and Sloane’s help further pissing him off, but he eventually got himself back in his chair. With an absently murmured, “Thank you,” he forced his trembling arms to push the wheelchair toward the laundry room and once he was there, he kept going until he had the door open and he was rolling into the garage.
“Chase? Where are you going?” Sloane asked as she followed him.
“Fixing this,” he bit out, heading straight for the old weight equipment that he used to use every morning before his shift, deciding that it was time to get his ass back in gear because that was the last time he was going to be forced to ask for help.
Chapter 12
Six Deeply Disturbing Weeks Later…
“Hop on, Pookie,” the bane of her existence said.
“I think I’ll pass,” Sloane said, not bothering to look up from her iPad as she tried to think of another word for “Asshole,” since sending her patient report in its current form would probably end up getting her fired.
“Afraid I’ll drop you again?”
“Yup,” she said, wondering if her boss would be willing to overlook the use of “Prick” in her reports.
“Come on, Pookie, hop on,” Chase said, using the nickname that she should have put a stop to a month ago, but had stupidly let pass thinking that he’d eventually get bored.
Oh, how wrong she’d been…
“Not happening,” Sloane said with a heavy sigh as she reluctantly went back and replaced all the adjectives that she’d used to describe her day with the large bastard doing modified pushups on the floor.
“Someone’s not doing her job,” Chase said teasingly as she glanced up from her iPad and watched while he continued to knock out pushups like they were nothing, reminding her of just how far he’d come in the past month and a half.
He’d been able to put on some weight and started rebuilding the muscle that he’d lost after the accident, which she had to admit, looked really good on him. Really good, Sloane thought absently as she ran her eyes over the golden muscles flexing with every pushup, the way the muscles in his scarred back worked, the firm shape of his
Wondering what was wrong with her checking out a patient, especially this patient, she gave her head a shake and went back to her report. He’d made a lot of changes over the past month. He was now a smart ass, went out of his way to tease and torment her, and was obsessed with getting in shape and pissing her off.
He followed a strict regimen that consisted of a high protein diet, working with weights three times a day, pushing himself three miles in his wheelchair twice a day, and doing pushups and crunches whenever the mood arose, which was often. He was now able to transfer himself from the wheelchair without help, dress himself, and do most of the things that he’d refused to do when she’d first started.
It made her wonder what he could accomplish if he put a little of that focus on his legs, but since he refused to listen to her, they’d probably never find out. Every day, she pushed him to work on his legs and every day, he ignored her. As happy as she was that he was trying to get his life back, she couldn’t overlook the fact that he was also giving up any hope of walking again. Whether or not he was able to walk again, he still needed physical therapy for his legs to avoid a lifetime of problems.
“Come on, Pookie. Jump on.”
“Busy,” Sloane said, finishing her daily report only to sigh when she heard her phone chime, reminding her that she still needed to call her brother back.
“You’re supposed to be helping me,” Chase said, returning to his pushups as she checked his medication log.
“I haven’t killed you yet,” Sloane pointed out, which only made the sick bastard that lived to torment her chuckle.
“And you consider that helpful?” Chase asked, sounding amused as he grabbed hold of his wheelchair and pulled himself up and sat back.
“Extremely helpful,” she said with a nod, noting that he’d been able to cut back on his pain medication.
He only seemed to need pain medication when his legs bothered him and that probably had something to do with the fact that he ignored them. His leg muscles were tightening and wasting away, not to mention circulation problems that he was going to end up having if he didn’t start listening. He needed physical therapy for his legs and there was really no getting around it, but the stubborn man refused to listen to her. He also refused to ask for help, Sloane amended a few seconds later when the stubborn bastard that had been the cause of more sleepless nights than she could remember rolled past her and headed to his room.