It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to mind her own fucking business when she picked up the wastebasket and dumped the contents into the toilet. Once she was done, she rinsed out the wastebasket, dumped the water in the toilet, and placed it back on the floor before grabbing a pink bottle from the medicine cabinet. Without a word, she filled a small plastic cup with the pink liquid before passing it to him with a murmured, “This should help with your stomach,” and shifted her attention to the shower behind him.
Watching her, Chase drank the liquid that tasted like strawberries before tossing the plastic cup on the bathroom counter. She didn’t say anything or try to lecture him as she started the shower, which was the only reason that he didn’t stop her when she reached for his shirt. Once she had it off, he reached down with trembling hands and worked on shoving his shorts off. It took several attempts and a bit of help from her, but once he had them off, he allowed her to help him transition to the plastic bench and as soon as he was settled, he couldn’t help but groan when the hot water hit his aching muscles, making it easier to breathe.
“I was able to get you a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” the woman that was wasting her time said as she grabbed a facecloth off the shelf.
“Cancel it,” Chase said, dropping his head forward beneath the stream of hot water while Sloane ran the facecloth over his back, forcing him to bite back a groan.
God, that felt so fucking good.
“Can’t,” she said, slowly working the tension from his muscles.
“You really can, though, because I’m not fucking going,” Chase said because the last thing that he needed right now was another doctor telling him that he was lucky to be alive.
“If you don’t go, they won’t refill your pain medication again,” Sloane explained, running the facecloth over his shoulders.
“That’s too fucking bad because I’m not going,” Chase bit out because there was no fucking way that she was going to make him leave this house.
Absolutely fucking none.
Chapter 4
“I want to go home,” Chase bit out again.
Sloane barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “We’ll go home as soon as we’re done here,” she said, tossing several packs of boxer briefs in the cart.
Not that she would ever admit it or anything, but she really and truly loved Super Wal-Mart. Where else could she get tube socks, new windshield wipers, and a pint of ice cream all in one place and save money? Since she was a secret shopaholic that loved to save money, this place was perfect for her.
“You didn’t need to drag me along,” Chase bit out, not really looking all that happy to be spending his morning buying underwear.
With a shrug, she said, “You needed to get out. Besides, wouldn’t you rather pick out your own clothes?” Neither one of them mentioned the fact that she got up early this morning, hid all the remote controls for the televisions, and threatened to throw them in the trash disposal if he didn’t come with her.
He looked pointedly at the shopping cart. “I haven’t put one goddamn thing in there.”
“No one’s stopping you.”
“Fine,” Chase bit out, keeping his glare focused on her as he grabbed a package of boxer shorts and threw them in the carriage.
With an impatient sigh, Sloane pulled them out of the carriage and returned them to the rack.
“Hey!”
“They’re ugly and they’re about three sizes too small for you.”
The scowl that he’d been wearing since she’d mentioned Wal-Mart this morning quickly turned into one of the cockiest grins that she’d ever seen. “Noticed that, did you?”
Rolling her eyes, because it would be so wrong to admit that she’d noticed, she grabbed a pack of socks and threw them in the cart. Her job was to get him back into the swing of things and that meant taking care of him until he wanted the job.
“Why don’t we grab some food?” she suggested, steering the cart toward the other end of the store.
“How about we fucking don’t?” Chase shot back, but he did follow her, which she took as progress.
They started in the dairy aisle, where she gave him enough time to pick out what he wanted, but he didn’t look interested, so she continued to the next aisle. As soon as they reached the chip aisle, he headed straight for the Doritos display, grabbed several nacho cheese party-sized bags and tossed them in the cart. She had to bite back a smile at the satisfied look on his face. He looked adorable, but if she told him that he’d probably tell her to go fuck herself again.
She heard a small gasp and turned around to find a middle-aged woman staring at Chase.
“Oh, you poor man! What happened?” the woman asked, shocking the ever-living hell out of Sloane.
A muscle beneath Chase’s eye twitched as he glared at her. “A drug deal gone bad,” he finally said.
The woman’s eyes widened in horror as Chase’s words registered and left Sloane cringing because this probably wasn’t going to end well.
“That’ll teach me to switch suppliers based on the word of a hooker,” he said, clearly enjoying the nosy woman’s reaction.
“That’s horrible!” the woman gasped in outrage.
Chase snorted. “You’re telling me. The bitch gave the worst blowjobs. It only goes to show that you should never trust a woman that doesn’t swallow.”
She let out a horrified gasp, shoved her carriage away, and practically ran from the aisle, leaving Chase chuckling after her.
“I’m glad to see you’re having fun,” Sloane said dryly as she grabbed a bag of pretzels and tossed them in the carriage.
All signs of humor disappeared and Chase was back to glowering. “Hurry up, my show is starting soon,” he bit out, and with that, he was rolling toward the next aisle.
Sighing heavily, Sloane followed him. She really had her work cut out for her with this one.
*-*-*-*
“For fuck sake, woman! Can’t we go home yet?” Chase demanded as Sloane parked the black minivan that his sister had traded in his truck for. He hated the damn thing. It was big, slow, and worst of all, it had fucking handicap plates on it, announcing to one and all that he was a fucking cripple.
Always fucking awesome to be able to make that announcement before getting out of the car so that little children could point and scream as their parents tried to get them to be quiet even as they openly stared at him. The best part was when a child started crying and having to listen as the little brat’s parents tried to get the kid to shut up by promising him that he would never have to worry about ending up like Chase.
Because, unlike Chase, they were sweet kids who deserved to live a full life filled with smiles and love and nothing bad could touch them as long as they were good. Every time he heard some well-intentioned parent sprout that bullshit, he simply shook his head, laughed it off and wished them all the luck in the world. If there was one thing that he knew now, it was that it didn’t matter how good you were or how well you treated people, because in the end, none of that shit fucking mattered.
It didn’t matter how many doors you held open for women, how many times you remembered to say, “Thank you” and “Please,” or how many times you risked your own ass to save a stranger. None of it fucking mattered and it sure as hell didn’t guarantee you the life that you deserved.