Wood Worked

As always, the majestic greenery surrounding Flynn’s property took my breath away, but then I focused on the barn itself. Was he in there? Hopefully it wasn’t a day that he worked at the university clinic. Or maybe he sometimes made house calls? Or I guessed they would be barn calls, since he specialized in large animals.

After a few minutes, I heard the sound of someone in the barn. Good. Ten minutes later, I saw Flynn himself.

For a moment, the plan slipped my mind as he hoisted a bale of hay over his shoulder and carried it back in the barn. I couldn’t help watching the way the muscles on his broad back rippled. His biceps were amazing, too. I wished I could freeze time—and regain normal use of my legs—so that I could go over there and examine him while he was motionless.

As Flynn worked, I could hear him moving around the barn, and once, cussing like he had in the kitchen the other night. And if I could hear him, then he could hear me. That was the second part of my plan, but there was something I had to do first.

Propping the crutches up against the wall, I stood facing the window. I held onto the sill like it was a bar in a ballet studio. Then, very carefully, I began to bend my good leg. As I crouched down, I slid my bad leg out to the side so that there’d be no pressure on the cast. Down I went, doing a sort of modified lunge. My bad leg pointed out to the side, and my good leg bent lower and lower. Finally, I was as low as I could get.

That part hadn’t been too hard, but this next part was likely to be. Keeping one hand on the windowsill for balance, I reached the other one down to the carpet beneath me. For a moment, I froze in that position, not wanting to risk injuring myself again. But then I leaned on my good hand and stretched my good leg out in front of me. My butt hit the floor in a fairly gentle, though not quite graceful, move.

I’d done it. I was seated with my legs stretched out in front of me. Now all that was left was the easy part. I leaned back until I was fully lying on the ground. Reaching out, I pulled the crutches toward me, placing one at an angle next to me and one across my abdomen.

Now for step three. I took a deep breath. “Help!”

I waited for a few seconds and then called out again. And again. Maybe Flynn was at the back of the barn? “Help!” I cried.

Three minutes later, I was ready to admit defeat. Flynn obviously didn’t hear me. I refused to believe that he had heard me and ignored it. No one related to kind-hearted Spencer could be that cold. Whatever the reason, my plan had failed. I was uncomfortable lying on the ground and was starting to get hoarse from the shouting.

Damn.

Gingerly, I sat back up and started the reverse of the procedure I’d used to get down. I pushed the crutches out of the way. I placed my hands on the ground, intending to lift my butt up and get my good foot underneath me.

It didn’t work.

I ran a hand across my bruised ribs and then tried again. This time, I reached up to grab onto the windowsill—and I couldn’t raise myself up enough.

Crap, everything was starting to hurt again. Maybe I should’ve waited a few more days to try this. It hadn’t even been a full week since the accident.

I tried one more time, this time with my hands on the windowsill and the edge of the bed.

Shit.

This wasn’t good. It was really, really, really not good. Not only had I failed to lure Flynn over here to get to the bottom of why he was being so aloof, but I’d also worn myself out. Suddenly, I longed to be in the bed above me—the bed I’d been so anxious to escape over the weekend.

Pulling out my phone, I weighed my options. Raphael would be at least another hour. Nana was probably home, but she couldn’t lift me. And Spencer was busy running a school. Still, he was the one I called.

“Are you all right?” he asked, not even bothering to say hello. I’d never called him while he was at work before, so he assumed the worst. He wasn’t all that far off.

“Yes, I am, but I fell, and I can’t get up.”

“Oh my god,” he said, and I felt guilty for making him worry. “Stay right there, I’ll send an ambulance.”

“No,” I said hurriedly, afraid he’d hang up and call one. “No, I’m okay, honestly. I just can’t get up.”