“I feel weak,” I grumble.
For a moment, she looks as though she might cry. “Shh.”
“I do,” I argue.
One of her hands comes up to push hair back from my forehead. “Just give it time. The doctor said you’re going to be just fine.”
“What about my foot?”
“You might be unsteady but you should be able to walk, and since it’s your left foot, drive an automatic. He said something about needing to lift your leg higher when you walk since you won’t be able to lift your toes.”
I rub my thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. “How are you?”
She gulps, dropping her forehead onto our joined hands, her body shaking.
“Get up here,” I plead.
She shakes her head.
“Dammit, Bethany. Get up here.” I just about beg.
She slowly climbs up onto my bed and tucks herself against me. Sleep finds us both not long after. When the nurse comes back around to check on me again, Bethany doesn’t wake. The nurse takes pity on me and doesn’t make a fuss about her sleeping on the bed with me. After she leaves, sleep eludes me. Each time I wake, I’m not as weak. Relieved to be feeling like myself again, I just want to go home.
Bethany wakes first the next morning, her sleepy stretching against me waking me as well. I’m sitting up comfortably the next time a nurse comes to check on me. The doctor visits me not long after. He’s pleased my strength seems to be returning and has me stand next to the bed. After he seems happy I won’t keel over, he okays the removal of my catheter. Thankfully, Bethany steps out of the room for that.
The mind is a curious thing. No matter how many times my foot and leg have been poked and probed, I’m still surprised the first time I go to put weight on it that I can’t feel it. If Dr. Vanson hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen on my face. There’s just nothing there, no pins and needles, no soreness, nothing.
I’ve delivered a couple of foals in my days, and I’m pretty sure my first steps weren’t that far off from theirs. I am motivated though, not wanting to piss myself in front of Bethany is inducement enough for me to figure it out.
Hobbling over to the bathroom takes some getting used to. Getting to shower and brush my teeth makes it worth it. Bethany brought some sweats I was able to change into. It’s hard to feel manly taking small uncertain steps with your ass peeking out from a hospital gown.
The next day, I still haven’t regained feeling in my foot, but it hasn’t stopped me from walking though. Reminding myself to lift my left leg higher is taking time. I’ve tripped more than once, dragging my toes since I can’t lift them. I should be able to go home today.
I’ve got doctor’s orders not to walk in the woods in shorts and sneakers again and a prescription for an EpiPen to carry on me. No matter what, if I ever get bit again, I’ll still need to go to the hospital, but with the EpiPen, the hope is my reaction won’t be as extreme.
It all makes sense to me, including the follow up appointment with a physical therapist to get fitted with a brace for my ankle. The brace should help keep me from rolling my ankle if I step weirdly. I’m working with the assumption that what’s happened to my foot is for good. Either way, there’s a farm I need to get back to whether my foot works or not.
I hate to see Bethany so anxious. Being in the hospital, and her being here with me made our feelings for each other pretty clear. I’d like her to be in my future and am moving forward with that goal in mind. She wants the same thing, but I know she’s also worrying herself sick over me; I see it with every touch and every glance. I haven’t said anything yet, but I need to before she drives me crazy.
She checks on me when I’m sleeping; worries about me working the farm, and tenses up at the mention of me driving. I respect that she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me. Problem is, I need her to be my woman, not my mother.
Chapter Six
“I’ll be fine,” I grumble.
Bethany glances at her suitcase and back at me. She canceled a trip to go to Florida and visit her parents when I got bit by that snake. I’ve been out of the hospital for a week now and convinced her I was well enough for her to reschedule her trip. Now that she’s supposed to leave tomorrow, she’s having second thoughts about leaving me.
What happened was scary. Life goes on. I limp now; it sucks, but it could have been so much worse. I’d rather move on at this point. The hovering, the babying, and her nonstop nervous energy around me needs to stop, for both of our sakes. She moved out here to get away from the city and relax. She’s unfortunately doing the exact opposite of that.
“What if you come with me?”
Arching a brow at her¸ I groan. “It’s just a week.”
She tries not to pout. Thank God I think she’s gorgeous and it comes off more cute than annoying. I should be thrilled she cares about me enough to want to take care of me. I’m just not that guy. Call me old fashioned but I want to take care of her or bare minimum meet her halfway.
“I know,” she grumbles.
I snake my arm around her waist and pull her into my lap. With that pout, those plump lips of hers are too much of a temptation to not sample.