A Lovely Shade of Ouch [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 8

  He realized, however, that with her bedroom set in the room, there wouldn’t be room for George. So he enlisted more help rearranging his living room so the tortoise’s indoor pool would fit in the corner close to the sofa, where Abbey could easily get to it.

  By the time they returned to Abbey’s, she looked a little ticked off at Tilly, who’d seated her on the sofa there with a bottle of water.

  “It should hopefully start kicking in soon,” Tilly told John.

  “If it makes me puke,” Abbey warned her, “you’re cleaning it up.”

  “This is different stuff than you said you reacted to. At least give it a chance. If it takes care of some of the pain, and doesn’t make you sick, then hey, at least it’s helping.”

  “Tilly,” he asked, “do I have your permission to go Dom on her ass if she doesn’t listen to me about taking her meds?”

  “Absofarkinglutely.”

  “Hey! Don’t I get a say here?”

  In unison, Tilly and John said, “No.”

  Tilly stuck out her hand to John for a fist bump, which he returned.

  “Just be glad,” Tilly said, “that we’re getting along now.” She wagged a finger at Abbey. “When you’re all healed up, I’ll let you get your revenge then, on both of us.”

  “Hey,” John said.

  Tilly grinned. “You think I’m letting her beat only my ass, think again, buddy. There is no I in team.”

  “But there is in pain,” Abbey said, shooting them both a dark look.

  John didn’t care. At least she seemed to be thinking about something other than what that weaselly shit Tom had done to her.

  And he and Tilly were now on the same team.

  Team Abbey.

  I’ll take the win.

  Chapter Nine

  The painkillers didn’t make Abbey sick, but they muddied her thoughts, making everything fuzzy in a way she didn’t like. At least they took the edge off the pain.

  After one final walk through the house to make sure everything was gone that belonged to her, it was time to tackle moving George. Tilly made Abbey sit in a chair on the lanai and direct everyone else’s efforts. Essie gently captured George and put him in the pet carrier, on a towel, and handed it to Abbey to hold while everyone else started transferring dirt and substrate into the kiddie pool, along with the plants.

  The Collins brothers also had several large plastic totes into which they were able to transfer the rest of the dirt, substrate, plants, and even sod from the enclosure, then the men worked on disassembling the sides. There wasn’t anything they could do about the weed barrier cloth except rip it loose from the staples. Then, using a couple of the pieces of lumber to support the bottom of the kiddie pool, they moved everything out to a couple of pickup trucks.

  John grabbed the hose and rinsed off the lanai while Tilly helped Abbey outside. She’d chauffeur Abbey and George back to John’s place. Once everyone was out of the house, Abbey locked it.

  “You going to leave the key here?” John asked.

  “No, I’ll need to come get the mail next week while he’s gone,” she said. “And I need to get my address changed anyway, so I’ll still have to come by to get my mail.” She stared at the house, trying to remember how it’d felt when she’d moved in.

  She couldn’t remember now.

  Or, maybe it was the painkillers.

  Back at John’s house, she was nearly driven to tears of gratitude to see how John had rearranged the living room to accommodate George’s pool. She got him settled in there, with John’s help setting up George’s lights. They stacked the lumber for his tortoise enclosure on John’s lanai, along with the tubs of plants and dirt. John said he’d take care of them over the next couple of days.

  Then the rest of the helpers who were still there started unpacking Abbey’s belongings for her, the things they’d needed to wait for her input before they could take care of it. Stuff that she’d need now, versus items that could remain in boxes in the garage to await her next move. And Tony took care of setting up her TV and cable box for her in the bedroom so she didn’t have to worry about it.

  Tilly and Clarisse took over unpacking her bathroom supplies, while the men worked to finish arranging the bedroom the way she wanted it. By the time Abbey called it quits at seven and ordered more pizzas for everyone who was still there, there really wasn’t much left for her to do. She had some dirty laundry she’d have to wash, but her friends had done all the hard work for her.

  Another round of painkillers later, and she was sitting on John’s sofa, Tilly on one side of her and John on the other, quietly studying her friends as they ate and talked.

  Tilly gently nudged her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. I will be. Just…adjusting. I owe you all so much. Thank you for all of this. It’s overwhelming and appreciated more than I can tell you.”

  “Hey,” Cris said. “That’s what family’s for.”

  “God, I haven’t even told my own family about my move yet. Crap. I’m not looking forward to that.”

  “Just tell them the truth,” Tilly said.

  “Oh, sure. ‘Hey, my boyfriend’s been chatting up a Domme in Dallas, and decided to leave me for a job out there.’ They don’t know anything about my kinky life and I’d rather keep it that way. They can remain blissfully unaware in their little bubbles of denial.”

  Tilly rolled her eyes. “No, you tell them he found a new job out there, but with everything going on, you can’t move out there with him, so you decided to amicably part ways.”

  “Oh.” That was so stupidly simple, Abbey didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it. “Sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” Landry said. “This has been a rough few days on you. At least now with the move out of the way, you can focus on your health and getting better. When do you find out about the surgery?”

  “I need to call the doctor’s office tomorrow. I didn’t hear back from them yet.”

  “Let me know as soon as you do,” Tilly said. “You won’t be alone.” She covered Abbey’s hand with hers. “I’m going to be there. I’m sure John will, too.”

  “Absolutely,” John said.

  Abbey turned to look at him. What did it say that a man she barely knew, whom she’d now be living with, had so quickly come to be someone she could depend on more than a man she’d actually lived with and had a relationship with for over four years, give or take?

  And she did trust John. Askel and others had vouched for him. He had a good job, obviously was a great housekeeper, and had come through for her in a way for which she’d never be able to repay him.

  And all that at a time in his own life when she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d wanted to retreat from the world for a while and spend his spare time grieving his friend.

  “You’re doing so much for me already,” she said. “You don’t need to take time off work for me.”

  He shrugged. “I have a shit-ton of vacation time stored up. Not like I was going anywhere. I’d be happy to take at least a couple of days off to get you through this.”

  She didn’t know if it was the painkillers, or her overwhelmed emotions, or just her exhaustion, but she leaned over, tipping her head onto John’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  The others helped clean up the last of the pizza boxes and finished tidying up while Abbey sat there staring at George’s temporary home and feeling useless. Poor George was doing counterclockwise laps in the plastic kiddie pool, following the edge of it around and around, going nowhere.

  I know how you feel, dude.

  * * * *

  John was worried about Abbey, about her state of mind, but knew that unless she wanted to open up to him there wasn’t much he could do except be there for her and support her as a friend.

  Once everyone else left, he closed and locked the door and walked over to George’s pool. The poor tortoise had already made a grooved path around the edges of the substrate in his makeshift home as he circled it.

  “Is
there anything I can do for him to help him settle down?” John asked.

  “Just turn off his lights. He’ll bed down eventually in his house, once he realizes it’s night.” John was doing that when he heard her grunt of pain and turned in time to see her using her cane to get up off the couch before he could make it over to help her.

  “You could have asked for help.”

  “You’ve already done more than any person could reasonably expect.”

  “Are you going to work tomorrow?”

  “I have to. I have meetings in the morning. I’ll be done by two.” She hobbled her way over to George’s enclosure. “Sorry, buddy,” she said, looking down at him. “Back to the small digs for a while.”

  “Can I get you anything? Or help you with anything?”

  Her smile looked pained, weary. “No, thank you. I’ll be okay. Sorry we’re upending your life like this.”

  “You’re not upending my life. It’ll be nice having someone around to talk to for a change.”

  “I’ll get cash out tomorrow for you for rent.”

  “You can give me a check. I trust you. And whenever.”

  “I’d rather do it sooner rather than later.” She looked around, found her purse, and rummaged around in it for her checkbook.

  “Abbey, this can wait until tomorrow. You look like you need to go rest. And you are welcomed to use the pool and hot tub whenever you want. I bet the hot tub would be good for your pain.”

  She hesitated, like she was trying to process what he’d just said.

  Wow, she’s really hurting. And probably a little bit of the painkillers messing with her, too.

  “Okay.” She shoved her checkbook back into her purse. “Maybe I should go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

  “Good night. Hope you get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Thanks.”

  He waited until he heard her bedroom door close before he got started on his own preparations. The coffeepot, which he set to go off at six in the morning, ready when he got up. Then he made his lunch and put it in the fridge, ready to grab and go. He cleaned up the few dishes in the sink, put them into the dishwasher, and started it.

  Down the hall, he heard the sound of Abbey’s shower running.

  Good. Maybe after a hot shower and a good night’s sleep she’d feel a little better.

  Looking around, he noted the differences with her presence. Her large furniture, like the dinette set, was stored out in the garage, along with boxes of kitchenware she wouldn’t need here. But he’d made room for her recliner, and a small, decorative table, in the living room.

  Actually, reconfigured the way it was, it looked better, less empty than it had before.

  Her desk, along with bookshelves and other things, now shared room in his home office, which had been rearranged to accommodate her stuff. Slightly tight squeeze, but it worked.

  As he walked down the hallway, he paused at her closed bedroom door. Besides the obvious, he sensed a seismic shift in his life. Had sensed it yesterday when talking with her at the club.

  He usually wasn’t a man to believe in any kind of woo-woo New Age stuff, wasn’t religious by any stretch of the imagination.

  But, somehow, there was something different. Like he’d stepped onto an unseen path and was now following it to a better place than he’d been headed before.

  If nothing else, this weekend had been a blessed respite from having to think about Mick and the gaping void in his life as a result of his friend’s death.

  I hope this wasn’t a mistake.

  He headed to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  * * * *

  Abbey stood under the spray as hot as she could tolerate it, her hands braced against the tile wall while the water hit her directly on her back. She knew it wouldn’t make a lot of difference, but it would ease her pain enough to help her get to sleep.

  Hopefully.

  She didn’t dare risk taking another one of the strong painkillers that night for fear of oversleeping in the morning. Plus she didn’t want to drive while taking them. Not until she was more used to them. Her head felt stuffed full of cotton, her reflexes dulled.

  She’d have to reserve those for the worst days.

  Then again, today could classify as a worst day. On a scale of one to ten, her pain had been around a ninety. The worse pain yet, and no doubt exacerbated by the stress of the move as much as the actual physical activity related to it.

  So much to do. There was an entire checklist of things she’d have to go through, change of address forms to get filled out, all of that.

  Crap.

  She might as well get a PO Box, since she’d be moving again in a few months. It’d be stupid to change it all just to have to change it again.

  Her thoughts went back to John. She felt torn between irritation at him for teaming up with Tilly to get her prescription filled, and warm inside that he’d cared enough to pay attention to her pain.

  Why the hell was I with Tom again?

  Yeah, he’d ask her how she was, how she felt, but it always seemed more like he did it because he knew it was expected of him, not because he really worried about her.

  Or am I being less charitable to him now that I’m moved out and really pissed off at him?

  That could be, too. She wasn’t an idiot.

  A woman scorned, and all that.

  The irony didn’t escape her that Gilo and Tom had switched places on Tilly’s shit list.

  Well, the idiot’s moving to Texas. Not like I’ll ever have to see him again.

  Finally, she climbed out of the shower, toweled off, and crawled into bed, naked. It took her a few minutes to get all her pillows arranged. With her back pain, she had to sleep on her right side with a pillow between her knees, another supporting her left thigh to keep her body from twisting, and one against her back to help brace her.

  Finally arranged, she glanced over and realized she’d already set her alarm clock when she’d plugged it back in.

  It’s going to be weird going to sleep in a strange place.

  But before she knew it, sleep had taken her.

  Chapter Ten

  When Abbey awoke Monday morning, her first thought was what the hell had happened. Besides her body being wracked with pain, she panicked for a moment that the dim, early morning light seeping through the blinds in her window was coming from the wrong direction. That maybe she’d slept all day and it was six at night and not morning.

  As sleep finally fled her system, she remembered the move. This was her new home. Temporarily, at least.

  I hate Tom.

  Not in a want-to-castrate-him kind of way, with a Tilly level of psychopathy, but that he’d upended her life over his selfish desires.

  Then again, if he was that selfish, she was better off without him.

  Looking back on their conversation, Tom had said his original plan was to wait until after she was back on her feet. Maybe her life had been a lie for longer than she’d realized.

  Maybe he’d been planning to leave for a while.

  Maybe he hadn’t been looking for a job quite as hard as he’d said he’d been.

  Not that it matters now.

  Those were not constructive thoughts, and right now the last thing she needed was to beat herself up mentally when her body already hurt worse than holy fuck in very bad ways.

  Carefully, she went through her morning agony of untangling herself from her pillows and log-rolling herself into a sitting position. Once she got that far, she knew she could get herself up and moving again.

  This surgery can’t happen soon enough for me.

  She’d never had major surgery. Hell, never even needed stitches before. The thought of them cutting into her spine terrified the everliving fuck out of her. The thought of being knocked out and helpless.

  The thought of not being able to care for herself in the early days of her recovery.

  Well, I can barely care for myself now.

  She was glad to s
mell coffee brewing and realized that she had no idea where John kept his mugs, or the sugar and creamer, in his kitchen. Or if he even had any.

  I need to go back to the house today after work and clean out the fridge and pantry. Not everything, but her stuff. While she’d wanted to make sure she’d moved all her pots and pans and utensils, she hadn’t thought about the food.

  With Tom gone for a week, some stuff in the fridge would go bad anyway.

  Might as well bring it here and use it up.

  She pulled on a robe over her naked body and slowly made her way to her bedroom door. As she walked down the hall, she noticed the mixed glow of UVB and basking lights illuminating the corner of the living room. When she reached the kitchen, she spotted John standing there, reading the newspaper and wearing a robe. His brown hair was tousled and he looked half-asleep.

  “Good morning,” she said, grateful to know she wouldn’t have to hunt all over to make her coffee. “You get a real paper?”

  He smiled. “I know. One of my little pleasures I refuse to give up.” He turned and pulled a coffee mug down from a cabinet and retrieved a spoon from a drawer for her. “I didn’t think to ask if you have a favorite mug or something that got packed. I’ll dig it out for you, if you’d like.”

  “No, not really.” He’d put out creamer, sugar, and artificial sweeteners on the counter for her.

  “There’s milk in the fridge, too.”

  “Thanks.” She was aware of him watching how she made her coffee. “What?”

  He smiled. “Nothing. Thanks for trusting me and letting me help you.”

  “I’m the one thanking you.”

  He shrugged. “I like being helpful.” A dark, foggy expression crossed his face. “I haven’t felt very helpful the past few days. I’ve felt helpless. At least this was something I could do. A way to make things right.”

  She sipped at her coffee, glad to discover he made it strong, the way she liked it, and not watered down the way Tom always had despite her repeated attempts to tell him to use more grounds.