Page 61 of Choosing Skyler

“I’m going to pretend to be off the clock for a minute,” Julie says before stepping forward and hugging Skyler. “I’m so glad to see you doing better, Skyler,” she says, stepping back before she heads out the door.

“Okay, Beautiful. I’ve got you,” I tell Skyler.

I open the shower curtain and start the water before turning to Skyler, unsnapping her hospital gown to pull it off of her without tangling the IV tube. I lift her and set her on the shower chair. I leave the curtain open to keep an eye on her while I undress myself, leaving my boxer briefs on. When I step into the shower, she raises her eyes to mine and arches a brow.

“I can call Julie back in if you’d rather she helps you?” I say with a question in my voice.

She shakes her head and reaches her hand up before dropping it and huffing in frustration at her body’s unwillingness to cooperate.

I chuckle. “You’ll get there, Beautiful. Until then, we’ve got you. Deal?”

She nods and leans her head back for me to wash her hair. To tell the truth, I’d be happy to do this for her every day—even when shecando it for herself. I love taking care of her.

I wash her hair with her orange and tangerine shampoo before rinsing it out, being careful to keep the suds off of her face. Then, I repeat the process with her conditioner. She has a look of pure contentment on her face, and I love it. I grab her bodywash and wash her from the neck down before stepping back to let the shower spray rinse her. I turn the water off and grab a towel, wrapping it around her head before grabbing another one to dry her body. Once she’s dry, I get her dressed and open the door to tell Devon to come carry her to bed.

I take the fastest shower of my life, in a hurry to get back to her. I dress in clean boxers and sweats and throw on a t-shirt. I hang my wet underwear on the hook and throw the towels in the laundry bin. I practically run to the bed and carefully climb in with Skyler. She looks up at me and smiles. I wrap her in my arms and kiss her forehead. She raises her face and puckers her lips.

I chuckle. “Whatcha need, Beautiful?” I ask her teasingly.

She furrows her brow and purses her lips like she’s not sure if she’s doing what she intended.Brady, you shithead.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” I tell her, leaning in and kissing her mouth. “I love you.”

She makes the sign with her hand against my chest. I kiss her again and wrap my arms back around her, pulling her to me. She settles against me and is asleep in minutes.

I look over the top of her head to see Devon smiling like a psycho. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he just shakes his head. “Just happy to have the gang back together, man,” he tells me before getting up and heading into the bathroom to shower.

Chapter 23

Skyler

The past week has been torture. I’ve had physical and occupational therapy to regain control of my muscles and body after not using them while I was catatonic. I’ve had speech therapy to help me regain control of my voice after the damage Dirk did to my vocal cords. And because apparently all of that wasn’t enough for me, I’ve seen a Gynecologist and started birth control.

Brady and I talked about it and while he’s happy to wait until I’m ready for sex, we both agreed that it’s best to be ahead of the game when that time does come. Since I didn’t want another pill to take every day, I opted for the Depo shot.

I’ve regained most of my motor function and some of my speech, but I still feel incredibly weak and tire easily. They assure me it’s only because my body and mind are both healing at the same time. I’ll make a full recovery, eventually. I just have to give it time and keep up with the therapy.

The worst part of my torture is the daily meeting with a psychiatrist to gage my mental state and prescribe the anti-anxiety medication to help me keep control of my mind. She wants to know my every thought and feeling, both past and present. Since my voice is still sporadic at best, I often have to write my answers for her which is somehow worse than saying them out loud. I can’t deny the lighter feeling once I leave her office or how much better I feel with the medication, but the appointments themselves are awful.

Today, she wants to know how I feel about it being two weeks since my attack. The truth is, I feel even more violated now than I did when I first woke up in the hospital two days after the attack. Because, not only did Dirk hurt me physically, he’s stolen precious time with my loved ones that I can’t get back. The two days I slept after the attack, the three days I spent in an acute catatonic depression, and all the time I have to spend regaining my life in therapy and appointments like this one.

I know it’s important for my recovery to be honest with the doctors. Whether that’s about pain levels and physical abilities with Dr. Henley or my thoughts and feelings with Dr. Anderson. So, I write my honest answer and hand the notepad back to her.

“That’s understandable. I’m glad you’re being open with yourself about those feelings. That’s a big step forward from where we started last week. I’m proud of you, Skyler,” she tells me.

I give her the sign for “thank you”. I’ve taken to relearning ASL since my voice isn’t consistent and honestly it hurts to use it too much. Tracey already remembers more from the class we took together than I do, and Brady, Devon and Chelsea have been learning it as well.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she says, looking at the clock on the wall. “That’s just about all of our time for today. But before you go, I want to ask you again. Have you reached out to your parents?”

She asks this damn question every day. The last thing I want or need is for them to sweep in like the loving parents for a photo op and publicity opportunity. Which I’ve already told her multiple times. So, I just shake my head.

“Well, I understand your feelings, but you should keep it in mind. If not now, then maybe once you’re released from the hospital and recovering at home,” she says before walking me out.

Brady is waiting for me when I exit her office, like always.How did I ever survive life without him?I think as a smile at him.

“Hey, Beautiful,” he greets me like it’s been ages since he saw me instead of thirty minutes.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” I croak out hoarsely.

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