Real Girl (Aston Creek High 4)

Blake suggested to his special sponge bath nurse that he wanted to attempt getting out of bed a few days ago…let’s just say the woman lost her job pretty fucking quickly when she was caught trying to help him conquer the world. I nearly had a freaking heart attack. It’s shit like that which is going to cost him his future. He needs to play this smart, we all do.

Eyes start darting around, waiting for someone to tell us to go as Blake sits with his eyes clenched.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Blake grumbles. “Get it over and done with.

That gets the boys moving.

Slade and Damian step right into the open back door of the Dodge RAM as Nessa begins to raise his leg. I stand off to the side, preparing to jump straight in when they start to move him back.

Blake sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and my heart breaks for him. There’s nothing I hate more than seeing this little turd in pain.

The boys lift him and soon enough, everything starts moving. Blake isn’t exactly light and with all his extra pieces, I’m sure it only makes it worse. They’re going to want to make this fast.

The boys step back with Blake’s arms over each of their shoulders while Nessa guides his foot through the backseat of the Dodge. As soon as the boys have cleared enough space, I step in and take his leg from Nessa.

We start walking toward the house and I try not to meet Blake’s eyes. If I look up at him right now, I’m going to break.

“Nessa, honey, would you run ahead and make sure there’s space cleared on the couch?” Shaylee calls from the door as Nessa jumps down from the back of Slade’s Dodge.

She runs around us, flying past Shaylee and getting busy inside as we walk at a snail’s pace, being so damn careful not to jostle him. I mean, what if he was to fall and the anchor pins got caught on something?

Shivers run down my spine as I hear Slade’s low voice cutting through my mind. “Focus, Virago.”

I swallow back. He’s right. I don’t have the luxury to be thinking about the what ifs. I need to focus on getting this heavy mother effer from the curb to the house. I have one simple job. I can’t mess it up.

We get to the front porch and as the boys step up onto the first step of the porch, Blake lets out a shallow grunt, making both Slade and Damian cringe.

“You’re nearly there,” Shaylee encourages Blake as we slowly pass her holding the door open for us. “You’re going to be just fine.”

We get into the house and spin ourselves around to get Blake onto the couch at the right angle. Here he will be able to see through to the dining room and down the hallway while watching TV. This is probably the closest to the bathroom we could get him without making the tub into a bed. Though, that’s another challenge we’re yet to figure out.

Blake’s been given a pair of crutches to use, but there’s no way in hell he’s ready for them. To be completely honest, I’m almost certain that Blake lied to the doctor and said he wasn’t feeling as much pain. I wouldn’t be surprised; Blake has a hero complex and doesn’t like to be told no.

The next few weeks will be interesting for sure. I hope he enjoys pissing into a bottle because I would be carrying his heavy ass to the bathroom every few hours and holding him up while he pees. I’ll have to limit his water supply.

We get him down and comfortable and Shaylee is quick to start fussing around, grabbing all his blankets and pillows from his room, making sure he has everything he needs. Even his PlayStation gets brought out here.

I guess the swamp rat will be living on the couch for the foreseeable future. I hope he’s comfortable. Oh well, even if he’s not, he’s going to be happy because being uncomfortable at home is a million times better than being comfortable in the hospital.

We all drop down on the couches around him, trying our best to make him feel at home. Well, most of us are. Slade is lounged back, playing on his phone while Damian sits with Nessa on his lap, checking that he’s doing okay after all his heavy lifting.

Okay, so when I said we were all helping him to feel at home, what I really meant was that just Shay and I were helping.

I look over at Blake and realize that for the past few weeks, all he’s eaten is hospital food. My eyes bug out of my head. The poor kid must be starving for a good meal. “Are you hungry?” I ask. “What do you want? Pizza, Chinese, something home-cooked? Anything you want…”