Page 15 of Room 1017

Casey, meanwhile, was all sunshine and light to my thunder and glower. He’d obviously had no such trouble sleeping. “I brought breakfast!” he said, holding up a paper bag from Crave Coffee. “Come on, we can eat it on the way.”

My gaze drifted over to where I’d set the wheelchair by the door, wondering if Casey would mind carrying it to the car for me. I hated to ask, but it seemed he was one step ahead. “How about we leave the wheelchair behind today,” he suggested, setting one hand on my walker. “This should be plenty to help get you from the car into the clinic.”

“But what if I fall?” The mere thought made my chest tighten. I wanted to believe I was beyond caring what people thought of me, but I hated those looks of pity people gave me when they saw me struggling. Even worse was when they had the balls to comment on it.What happened to you?

“Then I’ll pick you back up.” Casey grinned, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to flex his biceps for me. “I’m stronger than I look. Have to be to do a job like mine. Unless, of course, your ego has a problem being picked up by an omega?” He said it like he was issuing a challenge, arching a brow.

“Angel, there’s nothing wrong with an omega strong enough to toss me around.” I blushed, rushing to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound like—”

He waved me off. “No, I know. It’s fine.” He sounded unbothered, but I swore his cheeks pinked up before he turned away.

I stepped out onto the porch and locked up behind me. Casey took my bag from me and offered to help me down the two short steps to the sidewalk. He kept pace on the way to the car so he could be there just in case. It grated on me a bit to rely on someone else, but if it had to be someone, Casey wasn’t a bad option. He somehow managed to help without making me feel like I was a charity case.

The drive to the clinic was only 20 minutes, made longer than it needed to be thanks to morning rush hour. It wasn’t a chore, though, to spend the time with Casey. He turned on the radio and sang along just like he had at my place last night. He didn’t have a great singing voice, but he made up for it with enthusiasm. Whenever we stopped at a red light, he pulled out some jerky arm movements that I assumed could be called dance moves. I muffled my laugh in my breakfast croissant since I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

It felt almostgoodto be around someone else, which was new for me. Ever since the assault, I’d found it easier to hide away where I didn’t have to pretend to be okay. Casey, though, knew I wasn’t okay, and he seemed just fine with it. I’d broken down and cried in front of him last night, and he’d just held my hand and told me he had a plan. I only had the vaguest clue what that included, but ever since my final surgery, I’d had nothing to look forward to. Maybe this was the next step…

There were a few cars in the parking lot when we pulled up at the clinic. It was a lot smaller than I’d expected. I’d kind of assumed the bureau would splurge on something a bit high-end, but then Casey came around the car to grab my walker from the back seat, and I found myself feeling a little more grateful. Bigger didn’t necessarily mean better.

“What kind of torture have you got planned for me today?” I asked, trying to keep it light, even as dread made me tense up.

“No torture, I promise,” he said, crossing a finger over his chest. “Think of it like a trip to the spa.”

“Uh-huh. Right.”

I’dneverbeentoa spa before, but I was fairly certain they weren’t supposed to hurt this much. Just because there was a pool involved, that didn’t make it a vacation. “We’ll start with a little swim. The hydrostatic pressure will reduce swelling in your joints. It’s low impact, and just in case you fall, you won’t even hit the ground,” Casey had said as he gave me a wink.

“No, but I might drown,” I’d replied.

I had not, in fact, drowned, though I might never believe another word he said. Low impact my ass.

After he’d pushed me for a full hour, he’d dropped me right back off at home, saying, “I’ll see you on Wednesday, okay?” He wasn’t even giving me a full week between appointments? I took back what I said about him being my angel. There was nothing angelic about him. He was a demon, sent straight from Hell to torment me.

I’d been lying on my bed since I got home, starfish style. Every muscle in my body ached, right down to the tips of my fingers and toes, but… it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world either. It was different from the usual aimless, pointless throbbing that assaulted me on the daily. This reminded me of the way it felt after a good hard workout, a sign that my muscles had been pushed to their limit—even if my limit was a bit lower than it used to be. I might not have been able to walk right now if I tried, but Ifeltstronger, and I decided that was what mattered most.

Although, I would have to reassess that thought tomorrow; everyone knew the next day would be even worse.

Just as I was drifting off into a post-workout mid-afternoon nap, my phone rang, jolting me into action. Instinct had me awake and alert in a flash, every muscle tense, ready to defend myself, but my body revolted hard at the shock.

“Owww,” I groaned, curling in on myself. On the second ring, I flopped a hand out, reaching blindly for my phone. I hit accept and dropped the phone to the bed beside my head. “Hello?”

“Hey, so youarealive,” Amy said, her voice containing a hint of scolding and a lot of sarcasm. “I wasn’t sure, because Chalmers said he’d been trying to reach you, and Iknewyou couldn’t possibly be ignoring calls from your boss. You know, the Deputy Director of the FBI. Remember him? Clarence and Phillip said they called too. Do you make it a habit to ignore your friends?”

Now my groan was less about physical pain and more about my actions catching up with me. The guilt tasted bitter on my tongue. “Come on, Abadi. Take pity on me. I’m hurt,” I whined, rolling to shove my face into the mattress. I’d answered her text yesterday. What more did she want?

“Uh-uh, you’re fresh out of excuses. Chalmers isn’t asking you to run a marathon. He just wants some of your expertise in profiling, a little legwork on the Santana case.”

Just hearing that thug’s name was like a punch to the gut. “Don’t you think I’ve done enough for this case?” I snapped, blood boiling. “We got the bad guy! He’ll die in prison. That’s it, the end.”

There was a beat of silence down the line, then Amy said, “I heard from Sab yesterday. He said Decker and the baby were doing well.” I closed my eyes against the sting of threatening tears. I’d never even seen their little girl before they had to go into hiding. “He said to say thank you. They wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you.”

No matter how deep I buried the memories of that night when Santana sent a killer to take out our witness, it didn’t take much to dredge it all back up. It felt like fresh horror every damn time. But Decker was safe, his baby girl was safe…

“Did you know they named her after you? Petra. Really sweet, right?”

Dammit. I sighed. “You’re really hitting below the belt.” She laughed like she’d already won the argument. “Alright… tell Chalmers I’ll think about it, okay?”

“That’s all I ask.”

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