“I don’t want to take too much,” she said.
“No, fuck that,” I said, turning to go back into her bedroom, finding three pill bottles on her nightstand and checking them out.
A slow-release pain medicine.
A higher dose emergency pain med.
And a muscle relaxer.
She’d probably already taken the extended-release one, so I shook one of the emergency ones into my hand, grabbed her iced tea, and made my way back into the bathroom.
“I don’t want—“ she started to object.
“Too bad. Open your mouth.”
“Jass—“ she started, but, luckily, she needed to open her mouth just to get that much out, so I pushed the pill inside.
“Drink. Swallow,” I demanded, holding her iced tea up to her mouth. “Listen to me, you’re not going to get addicted taking one pill when you’re fucking crying in your bathroom from pain, Dell. Don’t imagine the doctor would have prescribed you all this shit if he didn’t think you would need to be taking it,” I added, watching as she tried to pull it back together before another wave of tears was flowing down her cheek.
“Okay. Come here,” I said, reaching out for her, and pulling her against my chest.
My arms went around her, but didn’t tighten, not sure where she was hurting, and not wanting to make it worse.
“How long you been like this?”
“Just like half an hour,” she said. “I moved wrong getting out of bed. I think I blacked out a little,” she admitted, the hand of her good arm curling into my tee, holding on.
“The ribs are a bitch,” I said, gently stroking an arm down her back.
“Everything hurts,” she admitted. “Everything.”
Yeah.
I knew what she was talking about.
It didn’t matter if the injuries were isolated in certain areas, if the pain got bad enough, it felt like it radiated out until it took over your entire body.
“You have any stitches?” I asked. I knew about the injuries I could see, but had no idea if there was anything else going on.
“N…no.”
“Okay. I’m gonna get a bath going for you then. Don’t object,” I said, already making my way in that direction. And because she was clinging to me, taking her with me. “The warm will be soothing.”
Awkwardly trying to hold onto her, I ran the water just short of scalding—which seemed to be the ideal temperature for women—, stopped the tub, then dropped one of the ball things she had on a bowl on the side of the tub into the water.
“Let me help,” I demanded when she pulled away and tried to mess with her sling, only managing to wince and blink back tears again.
“You don’t—“
“Yeah, my bad. That sounded like a request,” I cut her off. “I’m going to help you get undressed and get in the tub,” I told her.
“Doubt I will,” I said, shaking my head. “What is it?”
“Will you come in?” she asked, wincing as the words left her mouth, like she was embarrassed to say them.
I was pretty sure the only time I took a bath as an adult was when I’d fallen into a patch of poison ivy and was itching so bad I took an oatmeal bath just to try to ease the irritation.
I wasn’t a bath type of guy.
That said, she wanted me.