Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Thankfully Sam seemed none the wiser and provided comic relief as he scooped a mountain of rice onto his plate. “What?” he asked as they all chuckled. He certainly wasn’t being too picky with his food tonight. Maybe he’d get the hang of this parenting after all.
Afterward they watched another episode of Stranger Things, and then Emerson got a pretty exhausted Rhys set up in bed. “Don’t overdo it, you goof.”
“If overdoing it is playing video games and bossing you around in the kitchen, then I’m all for it,” he replied around a yawn.
“Is that so?” He helped adjust the blankets over Rhys.
“Wanted you to set me up in the shower, but now I’m too tired. Help me tomorrow?”
They’d had a prior discussion about Rhys avoiding certain activities on his own, like taking a bath or shower. Rhys didn’t put up a fuss about the suggestion, maybe because he knew falling in a slippery tub was a real possibility. At least until his balance was more stable and his head less fuzzy. By next week he’d probably be good to go.
“Of course I’ll help you,” Emerson replied, pushing Rhys’s bangs from his forehead. It was such a nurturing thing to do, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Being able to touch Rhys again flooded him with such immense relief after almost losing him. Though at this point, he could only refer to loss in the physical sense. Emotionally, it was something else, something that remained buried deep in Rhys’s psyche, and Emerson wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to reach him there again.
“Thanks. Hope I don’t smell ripe,” he slurred as his eyes closed. “Do I stink?”
“Nah, you’re good.” Emerson skimmed his hand across his jaw, and when the action sent a tremor across Rhys’s shoulders, his stomach had that swooping feeling he couldn’t seem to shake whenever they were this close. “I can help you shave too, if you want. I just bought a new set of razors that give you a smoother shave.”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” he mumbled as he drifted off into dreamland.
13
Rhys
“I definitely miss work,” Rhys said to Martin, who’d called to check on him. Rhys had never pictured himself in retail, but he found he really enjoyed the atmosphere at Flying High, most likely because he was surrounded by people just as passionate about outdoor adventure sports. Plus, the job came with perks, like being part of the Flying High climbing group.
Rhys glanced absently at the vase of flowers he’d received from the staff last week. The daisies were about toast, but he didn’t want to throw them away yet. He hoped it’d help jog his memory, since some of the names signed on the card attached were foreign to him. They must’ve been newer staff. Either that, or his worst fears were realized—that there were some deficits that extended beyond the twelve-month mark, and he didn’t want to even consider that possibility.
Though he knew his condition could’ve been much worse, and the afternoon he’d spent clicking around the laptop, reading more severe amnesia stories, had been enough for him. He promptly shut it down and vowed to live in the moment. His occupational therapist warned he would become frustrated the more he pushed for the details of his memories. It was better to let them unravel on their own—if they ever did.
“You just focus on feeling better,” Martin replied in that fatherly tone he used with his staff. In his heyday, Martin had been through his share of accidents and broken limbs, so he was using caution, which suited Rhys fine because standing all day and helping customers just wasn’t in the cards yet.
But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he hated putting people out. Having his coworkers take over his shifts and Emerson drive him to appointments made the guilt burrow deeper.
“Thanks,” he said. “And hey, tell Jill I’ll absolutely be up and running again in a couple of weeks.” Though maybe not up and climbing.
He heard a small intake of breath. “She’ll appreciate you saying that. You know, it’s been really tough for her, since she was the one—”
“Yeah, I know, and I wish I could remember.” He bit back his frustrated tone. He’d hoped that saying her name out loud would help jog his memory. How stupid. “She sounds like an awesome person, so it’ll be cool to get to know her again.”
After saying goodbye, he watched from the couch as Emerson finished the dishes and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. The kids were already upstairs in bed.
At least Emerson had finally relaxed last night when they’d surprised him with dinner. Those kids loved him to pieces, and giving him a break was something neither hesitated doing once the idea was floated to them.
“How about we go for a ride this weekend?” Emerson asked, apparently tuned in to how stir-crazy he was feeling. It was better than having him tiptoe around him, unsure of how far to push. But damn it, he sort of wanted Emerson to push, to take control like he did in other situations and tell him to get his ass moving and stop feeling sorry for himself. “Anywhere you want.”