Against Me (Cedar Tree Book 3) (2 page)

"Come on, Romeo. Time to face the music."

Katie follows close behind with her arm around the young girl who’s crying. "He didn't do anything wrong! We just wanted to be together."

"Sweetheart, he’s an adult and you’re a minor. That’s wrong, and it’s illegal. Not only that, he tried to shoot us with a gun he stole from his father's locker. That is all kinds of wrong."

Katie only succeeds in making the girl cry harder.

With both kids taken care of and her parents on their way to the hospital where she’ll be checked out, Katie and I are left staring at each other.

"Look-"

"Listen up-" Katie interrupts, "I'm sorry."

I'm surprised; I was about to apologize to her for taking her down so hard. "What for?"

"I could've gotten us hurt. I was pissed and not focused on my surroundings."

"Well I was about to tell you sorry myself, for trying to order you around. I’m still trying to get used to this 'partner' thing."

She cracks a little smile and it does something to me. Even the brief minutes laying on top of her in the midst of chaos, I was fully aware of every curve of her body and the faint citrus smell of her in my nostrils.

"Want to go for a drink with me and discuss our partnership?"

Her eyes go wide and she’s about to answer me when the slam of a car door and fast approaching footsteps grab our attention.

"Holy fuck, honey - you okay?" Gus wraps his arms around Katie and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Oh. So that's how it is.

I shake my head slightly and try to shake the unfamiliar burn of jealousy. Damn.

After a brief report to Gus, I make my excuses and am on my way to my car when Katie calls my name and I turn around. Trotting up to where I'm standing by my truck, she grabs onto my arm.

"Rain check?"

I look over to where Gus is standing, talking to one of the officers left on scene and contemplate my answer.

"You let me know when you're available and I might take you up on it."

A flash of guilt passes through her eyes and with a nod, she walks back over to his side.

"M
orning, Katie." Sue, one of the day nurses walks into my room. "Ready for physio?"

"Sure," I tell her, less than enthusiastically. Still, she pushes my chair into the hall in the direction of the clinic area where the physiotherapist is likely already waiting for me with his weapons of torture.

Four fucking months I've been stuck in this damn wheelchair and my physiotherapy sessions are the only times I'm able to get out to move, which is the only reason I'm still going. They have me hung up in some contraption over a treadmill where I'm supposed to be exercising my leg muscles so they don't atrophy. I still can't carry my own weight and I'm not surprised― I've turned into a friggin’ blimp in an alarmingly short period of time.

Ever since I sustained my brain injury almost half a year ago, I've had to relearn so much. It's been a long and tedious road, and still my legs can't seem to get it together. I'm pretty much fed up with this whole situation. For someone always on the go and quite strong and athletic, sitting in one place all day really does a number on me. As a result, I've really let myself go. I mean really.

I snort when I think about yesterday, the first time I went out in public. Arlene re-opened her diner after it burned down and Caleb had insisted I stop moping in my room and got me pissed off enough that I ended up joining him for the opening party. God, what a disaster. When he picked me up, he scowled when he saw what I had done with my hair.

"What the fuck, Katie? What'd you do to your hair? It's all gone."

True. I had it all cut off. My outgrown dark, thick pile of hair is gone. The hairdresser who came to my room asked me to confirm it at least four different times, confirming that that was what I really wanted. I told her to cut it super short; so short that I wouldn't even have to worry about brushing anything. I was tired of not being able to do much more than tying it back into a ponytail. This way it won't get in my way when I'm running through my exercises, or at least that's what I tell myself, which is partially true. If I were perfectly honest with myself, I'd have to admit that I was just desperate for a change–any change–something to give myself a kick-start, but if I admit that, I'd have to explain and I'm not exactly sure of what I'm looking for yet myself.

"I needed it gone. It gets in the way when I exercise. This is easier," I explain, hoping he’ll take that at face value, but judging by the look on his face, he's not completely sold. He doesn't question it though; he simply looks at me with his light-brown, almost hazel eyes, that always somehow see right through me. From the first time we met, he seems to have the ability to read me like a book, and more than once, it’s gotten us out of some sticky situations.

Finally one side of his mouth tilts up and he nods. "I like it," is all he says and rubs his hand over my head.

Without another word spoken, we drive the three and a half hours from Grand Junction to Cedar Tree. Caleb often goes through these phases of almost complete silence for long periods of time. At first they unnerved me, but now I'm getting used to them and to be honest, I don't mind it much at all. I just pull out my Kindle and read one of the many books that I’ve one-clicked in recent weeks. I spend a lot of time with my head in fantasyland. Let's face it; you can make life as simple or as complicated there and it takes your mind off whatever is going on in your life. In my case, there isn't a hell of a lot of anything going on.

When Caleb wheels me into the diner, I can tell by the looks of all the people I know in Cedar Tree, that they’re shocked at my appearance. The first time I came here to help my boss, Gus, protect his girlfriend, who was being pursued by some shady organized crime characters, I'd looked much different. My hair had been long and healthy and I didn't have the extra thirty pounds that have settled on my body in the meantime. In part, the medication they give me is to blame, causing me to retain water and gain weight, but I also haven't been using my muscles the way I used to, and let's face it; eating is a way to cope with boredom. I've always struggled a bit with my weight, which is why I used to exercise vigorously every day and ate healthy. I guess I'm slacking off.

Emma is the first one to approach me, giving me a huge hug, telling me that I looked good. Sure. I like Emma, don't get me wrong, but it still stung when Gus had fallen head over teakettle for her in a matter of days.

Gus is next and ruffles my hair, just like Caleb had done.

"How's it going, Katie-girl?"

"I'm good. Fine really," I try to convince him as much as myself. Damn these investigator guys; both Caleb and Gus have an eerie knack for spotting a lie a mile away, and Gus is the second man to throw a doubtful look at me within hours of Caleb doing the same.

"If you say so," is Gus' response.

"Love the hair. It suits you." This from Seb, Arlene's cook and now lover, who has come walking out of the kitchen to greet me, but the next person isn't as complimentary.

"Fucking hell, woman. You almost look like a dyke!"

"Arlene, good to see you too," I manage to get out, laughing at all the shocked faces around me, "You like the cut that much, huh?"

Arlene isn’t one with a ton of tact or diplomacy, but she is honest to the core and always tells it like it is. I can appreciate that.

"You becoming a smartass now too, Katie?" She teases me back with a little smile on her face.

Catching up with everyone is nice, but I still feel too self-conscious sitting in this damn chair. There are some vaguely familiar faces here and a few I'm sure I haven't met before. The drive and then the crowded party have me tired in no time, and before I know what’s happening, Caleb has me outside on our way to his truck.

"Wait. Where are we going?" I ask him.

"You're tired, and we have a long drive back."

"Back already?"

"It's a three and a half hour drive, little one. You'll be asleep within 20 minutes, I bet," he says, smiling as he lifts me out of the chair and into the passenger seat.

"I can stand for a bit, you know," I remind him.

"Yeah, I know, but you're tired and had a few drinks. Not taking any chances."

I choose not to say anything, but simply allow myself to enjoy his fussing, just this once because he's right. I am tired and I'm not looking forward to the drive back.

Of course he’s right. We’re barely past Cortez before I doze off because I can't remember a damn thing after that, not until we get back to the centre where once again, Caleb lifts me out of the truck and into my chair before wheeling me inside.

Larchwood Inns is the rehabilitation centre where I have spent the past months relearning everything I lost as a result of my head injury. I remember clearly the first time I opened my eyes in the hospital in Durango and saw Caleb's face. It surprised me and I wanted to say something but my ears couldn't recognize the sounds that came from my mouth. I was terrified and not quite sure what was happening to me. When Caleb called for the nurse, he wouldn't let go of my hand. His calm voice told me not to try and speak yet, just to give it time. When the doctor showed up and told me the extent of my injuries, his thumb never stopped stroking the skin of my hand. The news was devastating for me. I was told I had to relearn everything, and that it wasn't clear what the long-term effects were going to be. In a flash, I saw my life as it was falling apart. My independence was gone. With no remaining family, at least none that I knew of at the time, the only option for me was to transfer to an inpatient rehabilitation facility, where my basic abilities would have to be relearned.

There were times I wished I hadn't survived. The idea of that kind of dependency went against everything I had worked for. Thirty-seven years old and back to having someone wipe my ass. It was humiliating and demeaning, but Caleb was a constant―encouraging me to claim my life back. He also seemed to be the only one who was able to interpret my incoherent mumblings, or perhaps it was his uncanny ability to read people in general. Regardless, I was glad whenever he was around. It almost felt like I was able to communicate after all. Although why he insisted on being at my bedside all the time was a mystery to me. I mean, we'd been friends for years, but I never would have expected of him to spend as much time with me as he did.

Moving from the hospital to the centre had jump-started my recovery. At first I was taken aback by the aggressive approach and intensive full days of therapy, but I was grateful for it the first time I managed to speak a fully formed and coherent sentence. My biggest obstacle remains my lower half. My hands I was able to use almost from the start, but the larger motor skills lagged. My arms were getting stronger, but my legs simply wouldn't move. To this day they don't move, not the way I want them to anyway. With support I can now stand, but walking is still difficult and I'm beginning to become discouraged.

I know this trip to Cedar Tree was an attempt by Caleb to shift my focus, to see if it would motivate me to keep working at it. It did, but most of the time I'm bored out of my brain, and despite asking both Gus and Caleb many times if I can do some computer research for GFI, they're hesitant to allow me to focus on anything but my recovery. Me? I’m starting to wonder if I'll ever walk again. Nevertheless, I still let the nurse wheel me to my physio sessions, where I know I'll come away frustrated again.

"Hey Katie. How's my pretty neighbor doing?"

Juan is sitting right outside the physio clinic where he sits every day, waiting for the 'pretty girls' to pass by, just so he can flirt with them. He’s harmless and charming, and at eighty-two, he’s still a handsome man. I bet he was a real catch in his younger days.

"Doing good, Casanova. You're looking smart today," I say with a wink.

He chuckles as he always does when I flirt back. It's amazing how it’s the little things that have the ability to make or break a day. This daily interaction never fails to put a smile on my face and lift my spirits. Part of me suspects it's why Juan makes sure to sit in that spot, right at the start of my therapy session.