“They have to go,” I managed, wondering if the curtains were actually made of lead instead of velvet. They had to weigh at least 300 pounds a piece.
I’d slept surprisingly well, then awakened bright and early with fresh resolve to start making some changes. Ian might not want them, but I wasn’t going to spend the next six months living in a mouse-infested crypt.
“Oh God.” Ian groaned as the heavy burden finally pooled around me down on the floor. Late-morning sunlight streamed into the room. He winced. “What the hell, Annie?”
“These are disgusting!” I flung my hand at the remaining curtain still hanging from the rod, and a billow of dust emerged. “What’s with these curtains? Did you steal them off the set of a vampire movie?”
He sat in his wheelchair, not looking amused in the least.
“Are you a vampire, Ian? Because if you are, we should probably have a chat about it.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint.” He surveyed me. “That was a thing a few years back, wasn’t it? My sister was 16 when those books came out. She was team Edward.”
“You have a sister!” I couldn’t help it, I clapped my hands together with excitement. That was a bright spot. Maybe she’d come by and visit, have a cup of tea, cheer him the fuck up. “Does she live nearby? I’d love to meet her.”
“No, she’s in the states.” He pointed up at the bare window. “I don’t care what the hell’s on the windows as long as something’s up over them. This morning light is—” He winced.
“Waking you up? Resetting your internal clock so you won’t be nocturnal anymore?”
“I need coffee before dealing with all this.” He headed off to the kitchen. I smiled, overall counting the interaction as a win. First of all, he’d agreed to my taking off the curtains. Not that I would have taken no for an answer. And I’d seen the briefest glimmer of humanity. A sister! On Team Edward! My former team, I had to admit, though I absolutely understood the pull of Team Jacob.
Taking down the rest of the curtains, finding sheets to tack up in their absence, then heading out to the nearest town took up the next several hours. There wasn’t much to “downtown”, just a few simple shops, but I poked around in them, buying some things for dinner, having a bit of a chat with a couple of the shopkeepers. It couldn’t hurt for them to know I’d moved into the area, just in case Ian did turn out to be a vampire.
Back in the kitchen, I set to work fixing a simple, hearty soup that could be frozen in batches and reheated as needed. That evening fresh, with just-baked crusty bread, it would be delicious. I thought of Brian, Liv and Jess. Hopefully mum would make it home earlier than usual, or Jess would start stepping up to the plate and fixing dinner more often. Or maybe it would be Liv who’d start cooking more. She certainly loved food the most. I smiled, then laughed, remembering her ridiculous joke the other morning.
“What’s so funny?” Ian wheeled into the kitchen, his tone implying that nothing could possibly merit my laughing away while I worked at the stove.
“I doubt you’ll find it funny.” I stirred, not looking over. It was unsettling meeting his eyes, looking straight into that handsome, troubled face.
“Try me.”
I turned to him and asked, “What do you call a fish with no eyes?” He shook his head slightly, no answer to volunteer. “F-shhh.” I smiled again, remembering Liv’s reaction, how she’d cackled with the hilarity of it.
And Ian? What was that at the corner of his mouth? Did I see the slightest hint of a smile? More of a smirk, really, but perhaps something other than a scowl or a wince. His hair somewhat too long and shaggy, his jaw sporting a few days worth of stubble, with those full, sexy lips he had a bit of the rugged pirate to him. I may have looked at his mouth for a few seconds too long.
When I focused back on the soup again, he returned to his former surly ways. “You don’t need to shop and cook,” he reprimanded. “I have groceries delivered once a week.”
“You don’t have to eat with me,” I retorted. “But I like a hot meal on a cold winter’s night.”
He grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He poured himself a glass of scotch, then swallowed down a couple of pills. I couldn’t help shaking my head.
“What?” he asked, indignant. “You’re not a nurse. What do you care?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but that can’t be good for your body.”
He groaned in annoyance. We faced each other, squaring off.
“What do you, drink and take pain killers all the time?” I asked.
“Fucking right I do.”
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
“What do you fucking think?”
“So, explain to me what hurts. Is it the burns? Or some other injury?”
“You’re a nosy wretch, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, studying me, then sipped his drink.
“Yes, I am. So tell me.”
He exhaled, drawing his fingers up across his brow in exasperation. I could almost read his thoughts—she won’t let up, better throw her a bone. “I have what’s called an incomplete spinal cord injury,” he explained. “Which means my brain can still send signals below where I broke my back.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Ah, Mary.” He took another sip of his drink. I almost corrected him that my name was Annie, but he knew that. He’d called me by the right name before. He must have some sort of private joke going on in his head. “What I’ve discovered is that doctors know fuck-all about it.”
“Is that right?”
“That is right. All of us ‘incomplete injuries’, we’re all different, every one of us. Some days I have some muscle function and sensation, but it comes and goes. What I do have every day is a fuckload of pain.”
“I’m sorry.” I meant it. How dreadful it must be to suffer like that every day. I honestly knew nothing about chronic pain, but I had to imagine it would be hard not to let it take over all aspects of your life. But he had to have something that lifted his spirits. “What do you do for fun?” I asked.
He chuckled, the warm, rich sound beckoning me in closer. I wanted to know more. Instead, he said, “I can’t tell you without offending your virginal ears.”
I blushed and stared down at my soup.
“Nighty night.” He left me alone, flustered and wondering what he was talking about.
I ate my soup and bread, delicious yet not as enjoyable by myself. Ian didn’t stir, at least not before I headed up for bed around nine. I lay awake later that night, full of questions. His father had explained that he was injured in an accident, but that was all I knew. What had happened? How old had he been? What was he like before it happened?
Those moments of amusement, glimpses of his humor, the liveliness that I’d seen possibly still residing beneath the despair—it felt a little addictive. The sight of his half-smile made me want another more than anything else.
I didn’t even know how long he’d been living there. He sure had the vocabulary of a university man. Had he studied somewhere? Did he have a girlfriend?
And how could he tell that I was a virgin? I was, sadly. In general, I’d had no time for boys. Too busy with my younger siblings, I’d been living the life of a single mum for some years now.
Plus there had been that one time that my heart had been ripped clean out of my chest. His name was Geoffrey. Who went with that instead of plain old Geoff? I should have known better, right from the start.
I supposed I should be grateful that things hadn’t progressed further physically with Geoffrey. It would only have hurt more in the end. One morning, he’d clearly and concisely explained that he didn’t want me anymore. He preferred someone with a bit more class, from a better family, with more connections. He’d sure put me in my place.
I’d put on a brave face with my sisters and mother, laughed it off with friends, but inside it had cut deep. I’d thrown myself into caretaking, better to be busy than gutted clean open.