No matter how gentle the medical staff was, it hurt when they helped me get dressed and then later when they wheeled me out of the building. I managed to keep from whimpering when Spencer and Raphael lifted me into the car, a tall SUV that I would’ve had no chance of getting into on my own.
Once I was settled in the front seat, Raphael produced a large backpack that he gently placed under my bad leg. “I hope that makes it a little more comfortable,” he said. It did, since I couldn’t bend my leg and rest my foot on the floor. Still, I sincerely hoped that the ride to Spencer’s place would be as smooth as possible.
Pain flared every time the car turned, but at least I had an interesting view as Spencer drove. We traveled through a part of town I wasn’t familiar with. It seemed to be on the opposite side of Lake Boise from my apartment and workplace.
The businesses that lined the streets were in older buildings. Most seemed to be in good repair, however. This area of town had a rather stately feel to it.
Then we were driving through a neighborhood with large houses, in big yards with tall trees. They looked a lot different than homes in Colorado, in ways I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Spencer drove on until we were out of that neighborhood and houses were few and far between.
He slowed when we reached a cul-de-sac. Only three houses were visible, and they were surrounded by thick woods. The trees went on for as far as I could see, dwarfing the houses, which were by no means small. Evidently Spencer’s was the middle one. He pulled up the steep driveway, and I winced when the car bounced.
His house was two stories and had a Southern farmhouse feel to it. It looked old, but well cared for. I imagined generations of families living there, which was the opposite of what my family had done. My parents had constantly sought bigger and better homes as their wealth grew.
On the left side, there was another house of about the same age, but smaller. On the right, there was a big expanse of land with a house and a large barn. That was interesting. Was there a farm next door?
Spencer lifted me easily out of the car, ignoring the crutches I still hadn’t tried. As he carried me to the front door, I was torn between taking in the details of his house and enjoying the feeling of being in his strong arms. No one had carried me like this since I was a little girl.
He made it look easy, too. Of course, he was a big man. A big man with big muscles. Probably every part of him was big.
God, what was I thinking? This was no time to think about sex—I could barely move. Maybe the pain meds were screwing with my brain, but I couldn’t help the way my pulse sped up from being this close to the hot principal.
Raphael followed with the crutches and a bag of stuff from the hospital. Once we reached the porch, he moved past Spencer, opened the screen door, and unlocked the main door. Then he held it open as Spencer moved inside.
“The bed’s ready?” Spencer asked his brother-in-law. Raphael nodded. “Alyssa, would you prefer to go rest, or would you like to sit out here for a while?”
Truthfully, I was tired, but I hadn’t sat in a real chair in quite a while. Now that I was wearing actual clothes—though they’d ended up cutting off the right leg of the sweatpants Raphael had brought—I was eager to put even more psychological distance between me and the hospital. “I’d love to sit, thanks.”
Still holding me with little apparent effort, Spencer and I looked around the living room. There were large leather sofas arranged around a flatscreen TV on the wall. Toys and books covered the coffee table and end tables. It looked like a nice, homey space, but it was a bit dark in here.
Spencer seemed to feel the same way. “Let’s go in the kitchen.” The room we entered was light and airy, owing to a big window over the sink and the sliding glass doors that led out to a deck. In front of the doors was a large table that looked like it could seat at least eight.
The maple-colored wood had scratches on it, and it made me wonder exactly how long Spencer’s family had lived here. The dining room had a lived-in look, as if it was well used to large family meals, board game nights, and more.
He set me down gently on a wooden chair at the kitchen table, and I tried to sit up as straight as I could—something that hadn’t been possible in the hospital bed. Any kind of movement made my leg ache, but I figured that wasn’t going to change for a while.