Page 67 of Handcuffed to the Bear

She had grown up with the ever-present awareness, hammered into her by her parents and then by Grandma McClaren, that she must always hide her real nature from all but her dearest loved ones. The idea of humans and shifters living together as friends, partners, and spouses fascinated her.

“Well, your leg looks excellent,” Dr. Lafitte said, peeling off her gloves. “If you feel up to it, I’d like to get you up now, and show you how to use your crutches.”

“Didn’t I just have surgery?” Casey protested. “Is that really good for me?”

“Believe it or not, these days we like to have patients out of bed the same day. The more you move around, the better you heal.”

Avery cleared his throat and pushed himself up, using the arms of the chair to lever himself out of the seat. “Andthat’smy cue to leave. You’d probably do better without an audience.”

“Avery?” Casey said.

He stopped and turned around.

“Can you, uh ... say hi to Jack for me?”

“Sure, but you can do it yourself.” He nodded to the crutches that had been leaning against the wall, which Dr. Lafitte was even now retrieving. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind visitors.”

Her heart jumped. Jack’s absence was a strange kind of loneliness she’d never experienced before—or maybe it was just that she’d never realized how lonely she really was. She kept noticing how naked her wrist felt without the handcuff, as if she should be able to move it and feel the answering pressure at the other end.

Would he be glad to see her, though? She felt shy about it. Their experiences on the island seemed so unreal now. And yet, she craved him, like a thirst she had no way to slake.

Later, she promised herself. It would be a good incentive for teaching herself to use the crutches.

Dr. Lafitte leaned out of the room to find a nursing assistant, and the two of them helped her sit up. She had to wait out a brief head rush, but felt stable enough once she got used to it. Her feet were still sore and tender. The nursing assistant rolled non-slip socks onto them, and then they helped her up and got the crutches adjusted for her.

The food arrived while she was still getting the hang of moving around the room. As soon as she saw the steaming plate, it was all she could do not to attack it immediately.

Seeing the look on her face, Dr. Lafitte helped her sit down on the edge of the bed. “I want you to do a couple of laps around the hall later, but for right now, getting some calories and protein in your system is the best thing you can do. I’ll be back later. Call someone if you feel like you need to get up.”

Casey nodded absently, but the food was the only thing she could focus on. God, they hadn’t been kidding about appetite. She hardly noticed them leaving the room.

She scarfed down two plates of some sort of meatloaf that she’d probably have found completely unappealing under normal circumstances. Right now it tasted like the best thing she’d ever eaten. She was worried about making herself sick by eating too much, but all it did was make her thirsty.

And she needed to use the bathroom.

She started to reach for the nurse call button, but then hesitated. The crutches were right there by the bed. She was going to have to use them sooner or later anyway.

And I could see Jack ...

She pushed away the bedside tray table—it was on a jointed plastic arm that swung out over the bed—and swung her legs carefully off the edge. The doctor had said she wasn’t supposed to get out of bed by herself, but she felt all right: a little dizzy and sleepy, but not too bad.

And she was used to doing things by herself. She had a whole lifetime’s experience at it.

Moving with care, she pulled the crutches nearer, and then stood up. Getting them arranged under her arms without help was the hardest part, but once she found her balance, she didn’t feel too unstable. She was able to crutch carefully into the bathroom. There were grip bars to assist patients in seating themselves on the toilet. It wasn’t too hard. Afterwards, she filled a paper cup with water from the sink and drank until her thirst was no longer so pressing.

She eyed the shower wistfully. Someone had cleaned her up, which she appreciated as long as she didn’t think too much about it, but she really needed a proper shower. She was already tiring rapidly, though. And she had somewhere else she wanted to go before she got back in bed.

After checking to make sure her hospital gown wasn’t going to fall off and give everyone a show, she crutched out into the hallway. A nursing assistant was just coming out of the room across the hall, wheeling a cart and simultaneously juggling a tray. Casey’s first instinct was to hide, but she reminded herself firmly that she wasn’t breaking any laws. At most, she might be bending the clinic’s policies slightly.

The young woman looked up and saw her. “Do you need help, miss? I just need to get these taken downstairs?—”

“I’m supposed to be getting up and walking around,” Casey said, and, bending the truth ever so slightly, “They said it was all right. Could you tell me where Jack Ross’s room is, please?”

“End of the hall, on your left.” The young woman pointed with her chin.

Casey crutched that way. Moving in the hall was simultaneously easier than in the room (because there were fewer things to run into) and harder (because she was moving faster, and worried about tipping over). She wanted to stay close to the wall in case she had to catch herself, but she didn’t entirely have control over how far out to the side the crutches swung, and she worried that she’d hit the wall and topple over.

But she got to the indicated door without incident. It was pulled mostly shut, but not entirely. Casey hesitated, staring at it. Elsewhere on the floor, all the soft and busy sounds of a hospital went on: quiet voices, briskly tapping shoes, rattling wheels, clinking and clanking.

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