Page 2 of Lennox

"Fine," I mutter, relenting. "But if I fall, it's on you."

Her laughter, light and melodic, fills the room. "Challenge accepted, Mr. Gill."

Gritting my teeth, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, their weight feeling foreign and cumbersome.

Charlene's hand settles gently on my arm, her touch warm and steadying. "Take it slow. We're in no rush."

A heavy sigh escapes me. "Speak for yourself." The thought of being seen like this, weak and dependent, grates at my very core. But when I look up, expecting pity in her eyes, all I find is encouragement.

With her guidance, I push off the bed, my leg sending a jolt of pain up my spine as it bears weight for the first time since being cut open. My grip tightens on Charlene's arm, and though she doesn’t show it, I know she feels it.

"Easy," she murmurs, taking a slow step with me. "Just focus on the movement."

Each step is a battle, my leg rebelling against the strain, but Charlene's voice—that ceaseless well of positivity—carries me through. "You're doing great, Lennox. Just a couple more steps."

"Is it supposed to be this hard?" I grunt out, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. The walls of the room seem to close in on me, every shuffle and shift echoing loudly in my ears.

She casts a sidelong glance, her lips quirked in a half-smile. "Recovery isn't a walk in the park, but you have the strength to push through. And I'll be here every step of the way."

My response is a grunt, though it's edged with reluctant appreciation. We continue our painstaking journey around the room, her cheerful commentary punctuating our progress. And though I won't admit it aloud, her presence, with its warm, sunlit energy, makes the whole ordeal a bit less grim.

By the time we complete the circuit, I'm sweating and spent, my muscles screaming in protest. But I can't deny the small surge of accomplishment that courses through me, even if it's tinged with frustration.

Charlene, ever the optimist, beams at me. "See? Not so bad for our first round."

I sink back into the hospital bed, the simple act of moving across the room having drained the energy from me. The starched pillows cradle my head as I let out a long, ragged breath, the sensation of weakness gnawing at me.

"This is ridiculous," I mutter, rolling my eyes towards the ceiling. "It's been just hours since the damn surgery. They can't seriously expect me to be prancing around the room."

Charlene, leaning against the footboard of my bed, gives me a mockingly stern look. "You weren't exactly prancing."

I shoot her a dark look. "You know what I mean. It's too soon."

She sighs, crossing her arms. "Every patient is different, and every injury is unique. But trust me, early mobility can make all the difference. I've had patients who've faced worse injuries than yours, and with dedication and therapy, they're out there living their lives."

I snort, dubious. "You've got a story for every occasion, don't you?"

Her lips curve into a wry smile. "Just the ones that count. Like Jake, a firefighter. He broke his back during a rescue. Thought he'd never walk again, let alone return to his job. But with time and persistence, he's back on duty, saving lives."

My eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued despite my reluctance. "Really?"

Charlene nods. "Really. Your journey has just begun. And I promise, every step will be worth it."

I groan, letting my head fall back. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to be a pain in my ass?"

Her laughter rings out, light and musical. "Because I will be. But only until you're back on your feet. See you tomorrow, Mr. Grumpy."

With that parting shot, she exits the room. Damn her and her relentless sunshine. It irks me, infuriates me even, but there's an underlying truth in her words that I can't ignore. I need that optimism, as much as it goes against my current grain.

A vision of my team, my brothers and sisters at EmergenSEA, flashes in my mind—how they'll be out there, handling the waves, saving lives, while I'm stranded here, in this sterile box of a room. The thought is a punch to the gut, fueling my determination.

Closing my eyes, I make a silent promise. I'll walk out of this place, not just for me but for my team, for those who rely on us, for the promise of another day on the open sea. If I'm going to get through this, I'll need all the help I can get.

But what I haven't figured out yet is whether Ms. Sunshine Charlene is a help or a distraction I can't afford.

Chapter 2

Charlene

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