Page 11 of Holly's Valentine Vow

“They’ll wrap both casts and the PICC line to prevent any water getting in, but just remember, the casts are waterproof if you do manage to get them slightly wet. We don’t recommend it, because it’ll irritate the skin, but if it happens it’s not a big deal. The PICC line, however, needs to stay as dry as possible. Just be careful washing around the scabbed areas. We want them to fall off naturally to prevent any secondary infections from showing up. Outside of that, I’m sure he’s going to enjoy feeling clean after all these weeks.”

“Absofuckinlutely,” Rebel growls out. “And just for the record, Idon’twant anyone besides Holly touching me so intimately.”

“Noted, Rebel,” Dr. Brown says, chuckling. “Now, which aide is there with you?”

“Tina, Dr. Brown,” I reply.

“Tina, please wrap Rebel’s casts thoroughly, then let Holly bathe him. That’ll allow you to make sure his bedding is changed while his fiancée helps him get the grime off his body.”

“But he just got here this morning,” Tina says, protesting. “His bedding is clean.”

“Would you want to get back into a bed once you were freshly clean that you’d been in all day after not showering for two weeks?” Dr. Brown asks. “Change his bedding.”

“Yes, sir,” Tina grumbles, stomping out of the room.

I can’t help the giggle that escapes but say, “Thanks, Dr. Brown.”

“Anything else?” he questions.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Enjoy your shower, Rebel.”

“Babe, I need to take a piss,” Rebel says once we’re in the bathroom. His legs have been wrapped in some plastic stuff, as has his PICC line. While he has a bedside commode as well as a plastic urinal, I know he just wants to feel normal in some way. Since the bathroom has bars around the toilet itself, I push the wheelchair so he’s facing it, lock the brakes and make sure he’s able to hold himself up.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I warn. “I’ll get ready and be right back in, okay?”

He grins at me and despite the dark bruises under his eyes, the scabbed areas from the road rash that cover his arms, shoulders, chest and back, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

“I’ll behave, sweetheart. Don’t have the energy to do too much else,” he teases.

“More’s the pity,” I reply, winking at him before I leave the bathroom to slip into my bathing suit. Grabbing his personalhygiene bag, I knock and ask, “You good for me to come back in?” When I hear the toilet flush, I step inside to see him sitting back in the wheelchair naked.

Quickly setting the things he’s going to need in the shower on the ledges that are built in, I then release the wheelchair brakes and turn him around so he’s facing the shower itself. It’s actually quite ingenious and made to hold a plastic wheelchair if needed, but right now, it has a sturdy shower bench along with a wedge kind of thing to prop up his left leg since it doesn’t currently bend.

“Alright, how are we gonna do this?” I ask.

“Put me sideways, then we’ll drop the arm of the wheelchair on this side. I can use my upper body strength to slide over, just stay behind me and help,” he says.

It takes a few minutes, but finally, we have him on the shower bench and the water is warming up while I peruse his body. Tears well up in my eyes but I push them back as I gaze at each and every inch of his bruised and battered skin. That’s part of the reason why Pappy was covered in blood, because of all the areas of road rash, plus the compound fractures. I briefly wonder just how fast that damn car was going to cause so much physical damage to Rebel, because his riding leathers were in tatters. Some of that was because the paramedics had to cut them to get to the injured areas. When I realize that if he had been wearing just a T-shirt and jeans when he was hit the outcome would’ve been far different, I can’t help the guttural moan that escapes.

“Babe, you okay?” he questions, glancing back at me. When he sees my face, he reaches out a hand and grasps mine. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna be just fine, I promise.”

“I… I know,” I manage to stammer. “It just dawned on me that if you hadn’t had your leathers on, you probably would’ve been dead.” Or skinned like a rabbit, but I keep that thought to myself.

“But I’m not. We’re going to find out who the fuck did this and make them pay, I promise,” he replies, squeezing my hand. “Now, will you please wash my hair? I swear I can’t handle it any longer. It feels like a mop of grease.”

“Definitely,” I say, grinning. I take the hand-held shower and test the water to make sure the temperature isn’t too hot nor too cold then tell him, “Lean your head back and close your eyes.”

Right now, I’m grateful that we’ve taken a few showers together. Not many, because my shower at home isn’t exactly that big, but we managed to make it work. He groans as the warm water flows down his back while I use my hand to make sure his hair is wet. Once I’m satisfied, I put the shower head where he can reach it and grab the shampoo. As I work it into a lather and finger it through his strands, he moans, which sends shivers of desire coursing through me.

Now’s not the time, Holl, I remind myself. “Feel good, handsome?”

“You have no idea, babe,” he replies. “I’ve missed having your hands on me like this.”

So have I, I mentally say since I don’t want him to feel guilty about something he wasn’t responsible for whatsoever.

“Well, enjoy, Rebel, because I think I’m gonna wash it twice, toss some conditioner on the ends then wash around the scabbed areas,” I say out loud. “I’ll let you do the front, of course.”

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