Page 84 of Alpha & Omega

How could I even get to rehab? My car was totaled, my family didn’t own any cars, and I didn’t want to ask Harley to cart my ass around. We’d only been dating for three months. It was ridiculous to put so much burden on him.

What I fucking needed was to be left alone in my own apartment and in my own bed. I felt gross and contaminated being in the hospital for so long. I showered and took care of myself with the help of nurses, and I’d already been through some physical therapy—all so that I could do those tasks I’d taken for granted my entire life, which would be more difficult with only one leg. Even so, I needed to take it easy with my concussion.

Even worse, I grew tired of seeing my family every fucking day. Seeing their faces full of fear, sadness, and worry, looking at me as if I carried all their fucking answers and held the world up for them. I couldn’t help them anymore. They needed to land on their feet on their own from now on. Eventually, there would be no more Alpha’s. Once my income was gone, so would my insurance. Then I would be truly fucked. My crew needed to learn to care for themselves finally, find their own jobs, and pay their own medical expenses.

But before all that happened, Harley would leave me, too. Who wanted to be with someone so dependent? We weren’t fucking married. He had a son to take care of and a restaurant to run. I needed to start imagining life without him. Maybe it would hurt less when he finally walked away.

Harley entered my room and kissed the top of my shaved head, making me want to cry again. I hadn’t cried in years, and now I cried all the fucking time. I recognized the depression, but I didn’t care enough to fix it. Not anymore. I wanted to soak in my pain. All that work I’d done with my life, along with the improvements I’d made, including caring for others while striving to be successful and show the world that even foster care kids could make it, was over and wasted. What had been the point of it all, only to come crashing back down to the ground and lose it all? I was too tired to try again—fucking exhausted.

Sure, there would be some sort of payout from the insurance of the dead drunk driver, I assumed, but that could take a year or more. By the time I received anything to cover my medical expenses, my bar would be lost to me.

“Ready to finally go home, Skaterboy?”

I wasn’t a skater boy anymore. Those days were over.

Despite my silence, passive-aggressively pushing Harley away, he refused to fucking budge. He remained as sweet, kind, and patient as ever. Perhaps more so.

I said nothing as I pulled a T-shirt on over my head. My body still ached from the crash and surgery, but it had eased up some, and the pain meds they had me on helped.

“Here, let me help you get your shorts on.”

“I can get dressed myself,” I snapped, instantly regretting it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. Let me know if you need help.” Despite his words, he looked hurt.

I needed to just bite the fucking bullet. It was best to plunge into freezing water instead of easing into it. “You should go.”

“It’s fine. I don’t have to be anywhere today,” he said, completely missing my point.

“No, I mean you should go… for good.”

I didn’t watch for the expected hurt in his pretty eyes. I was being a dick, but it was better this way. He shouldn’t have to be here to take care of me. We hadn’t been together long enough for this. He should find someone who wasn’t a fucking train wreck because life was going to get even more difficult from here on out. Maybe if I were a dick, it would be easier for him to leave.

“You don’t mean that.” His words were a whisper, and I felt the pain in them.

“I do.”

“You don’t. I know you care about me and that you’re hurting. We’ll talk about this when we get you home.”

“No talking. It’s over between us. Go home, Harley. Go home to your son and your life.”

The stubborn bastard grabbed my face with two hands and forced me to look at him. “We willtalkabout this when we get you home. If you think I’m walking away from you, especially at your lowest, then fuck you. If you think you’re doing some sacrificial noble deed on my behalf to makemylife easier, well… fuck you again. We will talk about this when we get to your place. End of story.”

How did someone say ‘fuck you’ to your face and still sound kind and sweet? Harley managed it.

Without letting go of my face, he bent forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”

My lips trembled, and my eyes watered, so I looked away in shame when he let me go to pack up my meager belongings.

“I’ve already got your walker and crutches loaded up in the car, and I’ve got your medical goodies in that bag on the table.”

I only nodded, unable to talk, or else I’d fucking break… again.

Once I was ready, a nurse came in with a wheelchair. “I’m here to escort you to your car. You’ve already been checked out and been given your medications along with care instructions. The doctor has set your appointment to come back in a week to remove your cast. Then, we’ll set you up with a physical and occupational therapist to get you walking again and strengthen your body, but you also need to work at home. She should’ve added exercises to your list of instructions.”

I said nothing, getting helped into the wheelchair. I’d been practicing getting in and out of it so I could do this at home.

“And a reminder to keep your chair or walker by your bed while you’re sleeping. Falling could send you back to us for another surgery. It’s not uncommon for people to forget they don’t have two legs anymore and try to walk.”

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