Since Jill won’t be back to the house until after the dinner service, I decide to swing by the hardware store on my way home. There are more than a few things I’ve been meaning to fix, and there’s no time like the present, right?
I manage to wrangle a bag of supplies and two cans of deck stain home on my bike and spend the better part of the afternoon sanding and staining the deck. I know I’m overdoing it with all the squatting and stretching, but I push through until long past the sun sets and the darkness makes it impossible to see where I’m staining. I’ll have to touch it up in the morning light, but it feels good to have accomplished something productive for a change—even if I know my body will make me pay for it. I should think about getting a hot tub.
I hadn’t realized the full extent of both my laziness and my denial of it until just recently. I’d likely have rotted right into my deck chair if I hadn’t finally gotten off my ass this week.
After gathering the drop cloths and closing all the lids, I go to the kitchen to wash out the brushes, but when I bend to pick up a dropped shop towel, my leg completely seizes, sending flaming arrows of pain radiating up and down my right side until I collapse under the agony of it. I grit my teeth and suck in shallow breaths, waiting for it to ease up, but it’s a relentless beast. Fuck. I should have known this would happen. Every muscle in my body draws tight as I try fighting off the pain. I rasp and grunt into the linoleum floor, my sweat forming a slick pool where my skin touches the surface. My silent pleas for it to be over go unanswered for what feels like hours until finally—finally—the tension begins to unspool, and I pull in huge gasps of air as, muscle by muscle, the pain releases its grip. By the time the last spasm passes, I’m lost in the sweet blackness.
Chapter Seventeen
MILO
Twelve Years Ago
“Dammit!”
A tourist on a bike darts across the sidewalk right in front of me, and I narrowly avoid going down on my face. My leg continues its screams of protest, telling me I’m an asshat and I’ll pay for this act of stupidity, but I’m almost there and I’m not about to give up now—not after almost three miles.
To any passerby, I’m sure I look ridiculous with my half-run/half-stumble, but it’s the best I can do under the circumstances. My dad is gone for the week on some trip he refused to talk about, and Bran is working on the old Yamaha I bought last summer—he’s doing it as some act of contrition no matter how many times I tell him my fuck-up wasn’t his fault. So the only way to get to Jill’s is the old fashioned way. It’s just too bad I’m under a deadline. Or, more accurately, she is.
The condo comes in sight, and I put everything I have left into the last hundred yards to the back porch and her window above it. Don’t fall now, asshole. It’s only been a few days since I last saw my doctor, and I’m not looking for a reason to go back anytime soon. I could just see him pulling my newly-earned ocean privileges and putting me back on bedrest if he caught wind of what I’m doing now.
“Jill!” It’s more of a gasp than a shout, so I cup my hands around my mouth and try again. “Jill!” I hope to God she’s here because I don’t have it in me to drag my ass along the beach hunting for her.
“Milo?”
Her head pops out a second-story window on the far side. Thank you, God. I’m sucking wind and gripping my thigh at this point. The muscles are locking up, and if I don’t massage it and get some heat on it soon, I’m in for a world of pain.
“Oh my God. Stay right there!” The window slams shut, and within five seconds, Jill bursts through the porch door and runs to where I’m doubled over. “What happened?” One of her hands rests on my sweat-soaked t-shirt and the other holds me by the side of my neck. It’s the first time she’s touched me other than our initial handshake and maybe a few fake punches, but I have zero energy left to enjoy it.
“Your sister’s not answering her phone,” I manage to say through clenched teeth.
“I know. She went to some foreign film with my dad. What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
“That production guy called.” I suck in a breath. “They want you on the set at four to reshoot some scene. Said they’d have to replace you if you didn’t show.” A shockwave of pain vibrates down my leg, and I grit my teeth against it.
“Oh my God. And you ran here to tell me? What were you thinking?” I don’t need to see her face to know the expression she’s wearing. I call it the scolding face. It’s one of her favorites.
“It’s pretty clear I wasn’t thinking, isn’t it?” I go for humor even though it hurts to breathe, much less move.
“Come on. Sit down.” She tries gripping my arm, but I shake my head, sending droplets of sweat flying.
“No.”
“Now is not the time to be stubborn and macho, you idiot.”
“No, I mean, if I sit it’ll just get worse.”
She stops pulling, thank God. “Okay. Tell me what I can do.”
I blink a few times and focus on my breathing. “You can go to that set.” Honestly, the last thing I want is for someone—especially her—to see me looking so pathetic. The pain pulses again as my muscles constrict, and tears prick my eyes. God, I fucking hate this.
“I’m not leaving you here!”
And she’s the one calling me stubborn? “Then why did I just run all the way here?” I growl, watching the gnarled muscle and skin of my leg constrict where it’s not covered by my board shorts.
“Because you’re crazy.”
She’s got that right. Why in the hell did I do this to myself? Just so she could stand in a roomful of people reciting a line about mayonnaise to some two-bit celebrities? But this isn’t a question I really need to ponder right now.
“Give me your phone,” she demands.
I hand it over without thought, and she snatches it up before stepping to the far end of the porch. She’s back in less than a minute. I use the time to try slowing my heart rate.
“All fixed. Now tell me what to do to help.” She’s using her other favorite tone, the don’t-mess-with-me one, and, really, I’m beyond the point where I can put up a good fight.
“Uh, you don’t happen to have a bathtub up there, do you?”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m soaking in a giant whirlpool tub in the master suite of the Holloways’ condo. Thankfully, her mom isn’t home either, so it’s just the two of us. I can’t imagine her parents would be too excited to find a sweaty stranger taking a dip in their fancy tub. I massaged my muscles the best I could while Jill filled the tub with hot water and then helped me hobble in. The heat and the jets are doing wonders, and I’m about ten seconds from drifting off when she knocks on the door.
“Yeah?”
She cracks it open just enough to be heard over the jets. “You decent?”
I don’t bother opening my eyes. “No. In the three minutes you’ve been gone, I’ve completely undressed because everyone knows how easy it is to remove a wet bathing suit.”
“Ha ha. I’m just checking to see if it’s working.”