Furious Read online

  “We’ll go after our nap,” he said, not really surprised that she hadn’t slapped him yet since patient safety seemed to be a big thing for her.

  “Can’t,” Sloane muttered, sounding exhausted as she lay there, giving up glaring and settled for staring at the ceiling.

  “Yes, we can,” Chase said, releasing his hold on her so that he could push himself over onto his back and join her in staring at the ceiling and making him wonder when it had become so easy to relax around her.

  “No, we really can’t. Your sister scheduled you for five appointments today,” Sloane said as though that was supposed to mean something to him.

  “Good for her,” he said, deciding that he’d wasted enough time on this conversation and closed his eyes.

  “Chase, I need to take you,” she said, but she didn’t sound very happy about it.

  “No.”

  “Chase, I need to–”

  “If you let me sleep, then I’ll let you take me to go look at wheelchairs without bitching,” he said, sighing heavily as he shifted to get more comfortable.

  “That’s not going to work,” Sloane said around a yawn.

  “It really is, Pookie,” he said, realizing that this was the first time in a long time that he’d shared a bed with a woman.

  Once upon a time, the idea of touching another woman had turned his stomach, but now…

  He kind of liked having her in his arms.

  Not that he was going to tell her, because he wasn’t a fucking idiot after all. When he turned his head and found her sound asleep, Chase decided to take pity on her and let her sleep before he continued to torment her for his own enjoyment.

  Chapter 11

  “Really, Pookie? Really?” Chase asked with a pitying shake of his head as he removed the back of the television remote and found the batteries gone. “Is this really the best that you could do?”

  “At the moment? Yes,” Sloane said as she gestured toward the front door, praying that he didn’t mention the fact that she’d fallen asleep in his bed since she would really like to pretend that never happened.

  “Pathetic,” he said with another sad shake of his head, tossing the remote back on the couch and released the brakes on his wheelchair so that he could roll himself toward the front door.

  When he actually did as she asked, Sloane hid her surprise and followed him outside only to have him gesture for her to step aside so that he could shut the door after her and lock it. Once he was done, Chase gestured for her to go ahead of him, which of course, put her on instant alert.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” Sloane said, gesturing for him to go ahead of her.

  “Don’t trust me?” Chase asked with a wink, chuckling as he continued to roll past her and headed for the car, further freaking her out a bit because he was being a little too cooperative.

  “No, not really,” Sloane said, keeping a wary eye on him as she joined him by the passenger door, wondering what he was up to and he was definitely up to something.

  “I can’t believe you don’t trust me,” Chase said with another heavy sigh as she unlocked the car door and opened it for him while he leaned over and pulled his legs free. He moved the footplates aside so that he could scoot forward in his chair and place his feet on the ground.

  With a charming smile that had her narrowing her eyes on him, Chase reached out, grabbed onto the side of the car and pulled himself up, leaving her with no choice but to ignore the warning bells going off in her head and help him. Once she had her arm around him, she helped steady him and took some of his weight so that she could help him sit down in the passenger seat.

  When he said, “Thanks, Pookie,” she swore that she saw her life flash before her eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” Sloane mumbled absently, swallowing nervously as she shifted her gaze around them, expecting the worst and wondering why he was suddenly being so accommodating.

  “Everything okay, Pookie?” Chase asked, reluctantly drawing her attention back to find him watching her with an unholy gleam in his eye that had her narrowing her eyes on him.

  “Whatever you’re planning, Chase, don’t. Just don’t,” Sloane said firmly, hoping that would be the end of it.

  Instead of answering her, he simply chuckled as he reached past her and closed his door, leaving her standing there until she realized that she was glaring at him like an idiot. With a snort of disgust at herself for letting him get to her like this, Sloane shoved his wheelchair toward the back of the mini-van and decided that she was just being paranoid.

  *-*-*-*

  Maybe he’d pushed her too far? Chase wondered as he pushed his brand-new wheelchair toward the kitchen, deciding that it would probably be for the best if he gave the overwrought woman a little space since she seemed to be on the verge of some sort of breakdown.

  “I-I’m going to kill you,” Sloane managed to choke out, making him chuckle.

  “It could have been worse,” he pointed out as he rolled himself into the kitchen, noting that this new wheelchair was definitely an improvement over the last one.

  “You’re a jerk,” Sloane said on the way to her bedroom, making him chuckle as he opened the refrigerator and loaded his lap with deli meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and every condiment he could get his hands on.

  Hoping for some chips to go with his sandwich, he placed everything on the kitchen table and rolled over to the counter. Since she insisted on using the cabinets instead of piling everything on the counters, he was forced to lock his wheelchair, grab the armrests and push himself up, and just before he had to put weight on his useless legs, he shifted his weight forward, grabbed onto the counter and leaned forward on his elbows. Grinding his jaw, Chase ignored the way that his arms trembled and shifted his weight to his right so that he could reach up and open the large cabinet door above him.

  “Shit!” he snapped when the move threatened to drop him on his ass.

  Readjusting his weight, Chase pulled himself up further so that he was leaning over the counter and reached back up only to get dragged back down by his legs that were nothing more than dead weight. Throwing the cabinet above him one last look, he shook his head in disgust as his body trembled harder and he realized that he’d fucked up.

  “Pookie?” Chase said, hating to ask for help, but it was either that or risk another trip to the emergency room.

  “I’m not in the mood, Chase,” Sloane said, sounding adorably pissed and making him chuckle even as he was forced to pull his weight back up when his legs threatened to pull him down again.

  “I could use a hand here, Pookie.”

  “And I could use a patient that doesn’t try to get me felt up by security!”

  “You know you loved it,” Chase managed to get out as he looked around for something to grab hold of when his body started slipping again.

  “Jerk,” she said, not really sounding like she was on her way to help him.

  “I really could use a little help here,” he said, trying to pull himself back up, but his arms wouldn’t work. “Shit!”

  “That is the last time that I”

  “Sloane!” he yelled as his arms gave out and he lost his hold.

  Before he hit the floor and got tangled up in his wheelchair, Sloane was there, grabbing him from behind and safely taking him to the floor, where she kept her hold on him as he tried to catch his breath.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Sloane snapped while he lay there, gasping for air as his body continued to tremble.

  “Shit,” he finally managed to get out.

  Closing his eyes, he settled back against her as she ran trembling hands over him, checking for any damage as she tore into him. “You can’t do stuff like this, Chase. You either have to learn to ask for help or get off your ass and start going to your physical therapy sessions,” she bit out, sounding seriously pissed as he struggled to catch his breath and make sense out of what just happened.

  “Next time you pull a stunt like that I quit,” Sloan
e snapped as she checked his chest and ribs for any damage.

  “I couldn’t do it,” Chase said numbly as he stared at the counter in disbelief.

  For the first time since the accident happened, he realized just how weak he really was and he fucking hated it. He hated being this weak, hated needing to yell for help to get a bag of fucking chips. He was truly fucking pathetic, Chase realized, forcing himself to sit up so that he could grab the wheelchair and pull it closer.

  It took several tries and Sloane’s help further pissing him off, but he eventually got himself back in his chair. With an absently murmured, “Thank you,” he forced his trembling arms to push the wheelchair toward the laundry room and once he was there, he kept going until he had the door open and he was rolling into the garage.

  “Chase? Where are you going?” Sloane asked as she followed him.

  “Fixing this,” he bit out, heading straight for the old weight equipment that he used to use every morning before his shift, deciding that it was time to get his ass back in gear because that was the last time he was going to be forced to ask for help.

  Chapter 12

  Six Deeply Disturbing Weeks Later…

  “Hop on, Pookie,” the bane of her existence said.

  “I think I’ll pass,” Sloane said, not bothering to look up from her iPad as she tried to think of another word for “Asshole,” since sending her patient report in its current form would probably end up getting her fired.

  “Afraid I’ll drop you again?”

  “Yup,” she said, wondering if her boss would be willing to overlook the use of “Prick” in her reports.

  “Come on, Pookie, hop on,” Chase said, using the nickname that she should have put a stop to a month ago, but had stupidly let pass thinking that he’d eventually get bored.

  Oh, how wrong she’d been…

  “Not happening,” Sloane said with a heavy sigh as she reluctantly went back and replaced all the adjectives that she’d used to describe her day with the large bastard doing modified pushups on the floor.

  “Someone’s not doing her job,” Chase said teasingly as she glanced up from her iPad and watched while he continued to knock out pushups like they were nothing, reminding her of just how far he’d come in the past month and a half.

  He’d been able to put on some weight and started rebuilding the muscle that he’d lost after the accident, which she had to admit, looked really good on him. Really good, Sloane thought absently as she ran her eyes over the golden muscles flexing with every pushup, the way the muscles in his scarred back worked, the firm shape of his

  Wondering what was wrong with her checking out a patient, especially this patient, she gave her head a shake and went back to her report. He’d made a lot of changes over the past month. He was now a smart ass, went out of his way to tease and torment her, and was obsessed with getting in shape and pissing her off.

  He followed a strict regimen that consisted of a high protein diet, working with weights three times a day, pushing himself three miles in his wheelchair twice a day, and doing pushups and crunches whenever the mood arose, which was often. He was now able to transfer himself from the wheelchair without help, dress himself, and do most of the things that he’d refused to do when she’d first started.

  It made her wonder what he could accomplish if he put a little of that focus on his legs, but since he refused to listen to her, they’d probably never find out. Every day, she pushed him to work on his legs and every day, he ignored her. As happy as she was that he was trying to get his life back, she couldn’t overlook the fact that he was also giving up any hope of walking again. Whether or not he was able to walk again, he still needed physical therapy for his legs to avoid a lifetime of problems.

  “Come on, Pookie. Jump on.”

  “Busy,” Sloane said, finishing her daily report only to sigh when she heard her phone chime, reminding her that she still needed to call her brother back.

  “You’re supposed to be helping me,” Chase said, returning to his pushups as she checked his medication log.

  “I haven’t killed you yet,” Sloane pointed out, which only made the sick bastard that lived to torment her chuckle.

  “And you consider that helpful?” Chase asked, sounding amused as he grabbed hold of his wheelchair and pulled himself up and sat back.

  “Extremely helpful,” she said with a nod, noting that he’d been able to cut back on his pain medication.

  He only seemed to need pain medication when his legs bothered him and that probably had something to do with the fact that he ignored them. His leg muscles were tightening and wasting away, not to mention circulation problems that he was going to end up having if he didn’t start listening. He needed physical therapy for his legs and there was really no getting around it, but the stubborn man refused to listen to her. He also refused to ask for help, Sloane amended a few seconds later when the stubborn bastard that had been the cause of more sleepless nights than she could remember rolled past her and headed to his room.

  “Goodnight, Pookie,” Chase said, heading for his nightly shower and leaving her sitting there, once again wondering if it was time to move on and take another position.

  Over the past month, she’d made his house more handicap accessible so that he was able to become more independent. He now had full access to the kitchen, could do his own laundry, make his own food, clean up after himself, and annoy the hell out of her all without breaking a sweat. If he had been any other patient, she would have given her notice, found a new job locally, and continued to check up on him and work with him on a part-time basis until he was completely settled in his new life.

  The problem with that was that he wasn’t ready and he wasn’t going to be ready until he started physical therapy and found out the full extent of his injuries. He had sensation in both legs, but that’s all she knew since he refused physical therapy. She knew from the chart the agency had given her that he’d tried to move his legs when he was in rehab, but it hadn’t worked out and he’d quickly stopped trying.

  She had a feeling that he was afraid to find out, which was understandable. Right now, there was the possibility that he could walk one day and if he tried and failed, he wouldn’t even have that. It was one thing to be told that you might never be able to walk again, but it was another to find out that it was true. As long as he ignored the problem, there was always hope.

  She didn’t want to be the person to take that hope away from him, but if there was a chance that he could regain control of his legs and walk again, it was her job to make that happen. The problem was, she had no idea how to get the stubborn bastard that better not be using her green apple body wash to try.

  *-*-*-*

  “Come on!” Chase ground out as he willed his damn toes to move. “Come on!”

  Exhaling, he dropped his head back and glared at the ceiling, letting his anger simmer just until to the point of rage and then he raised his head again and glared back down at the damn toes that better fucking move.

  “Come on!” he snapped, willing the damn things to move because if they didn’t, he was going to

  “Oh, fuck!” Chase gasped as his toes finally listened and moved only to end up in agony as excruciating pain shot up and down his legs, letting him know that there was a price to be paid.

  Grinding his jaw, Chase curled up on his side and tried to rub the pain away, but it only made it worse. Unable to take it anymore, he tried to sit up, but the pain shot up his legs and into his back, knocking him back on his ass. He turned his head, buried his face in his pillow and screamed as the pain tore him apart and

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Sloane said as he felt the needle slide into his thigh seconds before the familiar rush of warmth worked its way through his body, slowly numbing the pain as he rolled over onto his stomach and tried to breathe through the pain, but god, did it fucking hurt.

  “What happened?” Sloane asked as he felt the bed dip seconds before he felt her small body press again
st his. She laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around him and held on tightly.

  “Get out,” Chase managed to get out through his clenched jaw even though he’d lose his fucking mind if she tried to leave right now.

  “Yeah, that’s really not happening,” she said, instantly calming him.

  As the pain slowly subsided, Chase carefully moved onto his side so that she was curled up behind him. When he covered her hand with his and entwined their fingers, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Closing his eyes, he slowly breathed through the pain as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, using the motion to shift his focus away from the remaining pain.

  “What happened?” she asked a little while later when the drugs began to lull him to sleep as she gave his hand another gentle squeeze that had him struggling to stay awake.

  “I moved my toes,” he said, smiling when he felt her go still against him.

  “Are you sure?” Sloane asked, clearly resisting the urge to check for herself.

  He chuckled. “Yes.”

  “So, does this mean that you’ll stop being an asshole and let me hire a physical therapist?” she asked, sounding particularly smug.

  “Will you stop hounding me if I do?”

  “No.”

  For a moment, Chase stared at the wheelchair by his bed, realizing just how easy it would be to give up and spend the rest of his life in that chair, but then he felt her shift behind him and he decided that he didn’t want easy.

  He wanted more.

  He wanted his life back.

  Chapter 13

  “How are you holding up?” Sloane asked a little while later when she should have left so that she could finish up her paperwork and return her brother’s phone call, but she just couldn’t leave him like this.

  “Fine,” Chase said with his eyes closed and his jaw clenched while she gently ran her fingers through his hair.