Wood Worked

The trouble was how.

But my mind wasn’t at its best after such a tiring day. But tomorrow—tomorrow I’d work on a plan.

12

Alyssa

Weekends were awesome at this house. Neither Spencer nor Raphael had to work, and they spent ample time with the twins. Saturday morning, Spencer took them hiking.

That left me with Raphael, who seemed determined that I at least try the crutches. That part of the weekend was slightly less awesome. But eventually, after much practice, I was able to stand up from the bed by holding onto the walker Nana had lent me as long as it was wedged against the nightstand. Then I’d use the crutches to take a few awkward steps forward without putting any weight on my bad leg.

Between my bruised ribs and sprained wrist, it hurt too much to even crutch my way out of the room, but even being able to make my way to the window on my own was an improvement. No more waiting for someone to arrive to raise or lower the blinds. Plus, I could look out the window and see trees, Flynn’s barn, and sometimes Flynn himself. I learned that he often went shirtless when working in the barn, and it made me wish my long-distance vision was better.

Saturday evening, Spencer deposited me on the living room sofa after dinner. The kids sat on either side of me as I read them a story. After that, the twins held an informal show and tell. Lucas showed me his favorite toys, including a closer look at that awesome block set Flynn had made him. And Charlotte introduced me to all her horse figurines.

Storytime happened again Sunday night, and I hoped the twins would want it to be a regular thing. It was fun, I was with good company, and it distracted me from my various aches and pains.

Throughout the whole weekend, I kept thinking about Flynn. I hated that he felt the need to sneak in here at night like a thief. Somehow, I couldn’t believe that it was just about me. After all, both Spencer and Raphael had indicated that this kind of standoffishness was unusual for him. This wasn’t my home, and it wasn’t my family, but still… it made me want to do something about it.

A month or two ago, my brother and his buddies had done something that hurt Kylie’s feelings. Eventually, I couldn’t stand seeing her pain, and I butted into my brother’s life. I told Mason straight up how much he was hurting her.

It wasn’t my place, it wasn’t my business, but I did it anyway, and I didn’t regret it. They’d needed a push, and I think it helped them get to the very good place they were in now.

Maybe that was how things were with Flynn. I didn’t know the whole story, but I knew something was wrong, and it made me want to act. And hey, if I was wrong? Well, people might be pissed, but it was like Raphael said. I kind of had a get out of jail free card for a while.

By Monday morning, I had my plan ready to go. Raphael helped me get in and out of the shower using Spencer’s shirt as a cover-up, since the dresses I’d ordered hadn’t come yet. Then he had to go teach a class.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, not for the first time.

“Yes, of course. I’ll probably just sleep while you’re gone,” I lied.

“If you get hungry, contact Nana. She can come over and get something for you.”

“Right. I’ll text Nana if I need something.”

He grinned. “Better call. She’s not very good at texting.”

“I’ll be fine. Go teach Tai Chi.”

“It’s kickboxing this morning. See you.”

I waited until the sound of his truck faded before I began the first part of my plan. It involved making very sure my phone was in my pocket. A person who could barely walk needed her phone by her side at all times—especially for what I was about to attempt.

First step—so to speak—was to get into a standing position. Thanks to Nana’s walker being permanently parked by the side of the bed, that wasn’t too hard for me anymore. But then I had to stand on one foot and balance while I switched to the crutches. I got one crutch into place and then pushed away the walker. Then I got the other crutch under my arm without wobbling too much. Mentally, I replayed Raphael’s instructions in my head. Hold the bad leg out a little in front of me so it wouldn’t touch the floor. Swing the crutches ahead. Lean forward and take a step with my good leg. And hope like hell I didn’t go crashing to the ground.

Somehow, I made it to the window without a spotter. Yes, it was only a few feet away, but I figured that it was the equivalent of a 5k for someone in my condition. Cool air flowed in through the screen. I’d asked Spencer to open it this morning before he went to work.