Page 37 of Safe
My rehabilitation progressed better than anyone expected. The cane that had become an extension of my identity was becoming unnecessary, and the pain in my legs had dwindled. Our days fell into a comfortable rhythm of board games and binge-watching during the days, followed by evening walks through town or quiet conversations on the deck as summer came to an end. Those nights became precious to me, filled with endless talks about everything and nothing.
I shared my passion for history as Cody watched me like every word I said mattered. He told me about the countries he and Alex had explored together. Through his stories, I discovered pieces of my brother I'd never known, bridging the gap that I had created between us. And on those nights when the nightmares crept in, Cody's steady presence brought me back to safety.
Over the weeks, friendship brought more than just safety. It brought closeness, comfort, and above all else, security. Not physical security, but emotional security. Every day, it got easier and easier to open up to Cody, and I felt like I had a friend I could trust. Other than Alex, I’d never had anyone who saw all the horrible, dented pieces of me and embraced them without judgment.
Most nights we cooked or ordered take-out, but tonight was special—a celebration of my newfound independence from the cane.
I took my time in the bathroom, shaving, curling my hair just right, and making sure my makeup was perfect. Despite my comfort with our friendship, I still had this underlying urge toimpress him. I wasn’t sure if it was due to some feeling I was hiding from myself, or just the nature of finally having someone around who appreciated any type of effort I exerted. He made every day feel like a celebration of reclaiming myself, and for that, I was thankful to Cody. It made me push myself to find out who I really was, what I really liked, and showed me that I should accept nothing less than someone who celebrated every bit of me.
Cody had planned dinner somewhere he wouldn't reveal, but one thing was certain: after weeks of casual clothes and workout gear, I needed something that would make me feel as transformed on the outside as I felt on the inside. Tossing clothes around the closet, I realized I had nothing even close to the realm of nice with me. Clearly, when Alex packed up all my belongings, he had predetermined that there would be no fancy or romantic dinners in the near future.
Joke's on you, brother.
“I have nothing to wear!” I yelled out from inside the closet.
Cody was in the living room, judging by the distance his voice carried. “Then we’ll go get you something to wear.”
“Where are we going tonight?” I asked, walking out of the bedroom so that I could effectively convey the importance of having the perfect dress.
“I can’t tell you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Then how will I know what kind of dress to pick out?” With a sly grin, I let my fingers trail across his thigh, just for a second, trying to seduce him into telling me. It most definitely did not work.
“Nice try. Just pick whatever you like.”
Huffing in defiant annoyance, I performed a series of huge, dramatic stomps back into the bedroom. Looking at the clothes I had dumped all over the floor, I grabbed a pair ofleggings and a tank top before returning to the living room to further convey my aggravation for the mystery dinner.
“Fine. I’m ready I guess. But I still want to know where we’re going tonight.” I gave it one last shot.
A howling laugh came out of Cody, like he was both amused at himself for keeping a secret, and the way he was able to aggravate me with ease.
“Not a chance, Danielle. Now, get in the car.”
One last shot.
“Make me.” I folded my arms and planted my feet firm into the carpet, giving him a smug half-smile that screamed ‘I dare you.’ He didn’t hesitate for one second.
“I mean, if you insist.” Cody closed the space between us quicker than I could uncross my arms to protest. He stood in front of me, staring down into my eyes as if giving me one last chance to change my mind, but before I could, he bent over and wrapped his arms around my thighs, sending goosebumps radiating from the point of contact. Without any struggle or hesitation, he lifted me up and tossed me over his shoulder before freeing one arm, because he could man-handle me with just one, to grab my purse and phone.
Cody carried me all the way to the car, setting me down next to the passenger-side door with little effort before opening it for me, and motioning for me to get in. At this point, I was done protesting. I glared at him, one final act of stubbornness, before getting into the passenger seat.
“Good girl,” Cody said with a tiny chuckle, knowing what he had just done.
“Seriously?” The flat, dry word that came out of my mouth was not indicative of the fluttered feeling in my chest when the words came out of his mouth. He liked to pick on me for reading cheesy romance novels, but using them against me? Low blow.
Cody got into the driver’s seat and looked at me, still with that half-cocked smile, a satisfied look at the thought that he’d won.
“What? You did what I told you to, didn’t you?”
“No, actually. You carried me.”
“Same thing.”
I knew his insistence on keeping our destination a secret wasn't about the dress. He'd learned during one of our late-night conversations how I felt about surprises. I'd told him about Alex's disastrous attempt at a surprise sweet sixteen party where he lit the oven on fire trying to bake a cake, which ended with firefighters camping in our front yard and a permanently scarred kitchen ceiling. Since then, Alex had retired from the surprise business. Cody had somehow cracked the code to pushing me out of my comfort zone and getting me to face my fears. Tonight's mystery was happening whether I liked it or not.
At the store, Cody settled into the quintessential boyfriend role even though he didn’t hold the title. Still, he didn’t mind being perched outside the dressing room, holding my purse while offering encouraging smiles at each outfit I paraded past him. His patience seemed endless as I disappeared and reappeared in countless options. Then I stepped out in dress number eight, a simple red number that was neither too casual nor too formal. It made his expression freeze mid-smile.
The dress hugged my curves like it had been tailored just for me, with a sweetheart neckline that perfectly framed my collarbones. The fabric cinched at my waist before flowing freely to just above my knees.
