Page 6 of Chance Encounter

I have a feeling if I stay here in front of him, Maddox will only keep snapping at me. The sooner we figure out how bad his ankle is, I can get him out of here and back to my nightly binge-watch of Schitt’s Creek. “Get out of your gear while I put together an ice pack.”

He doesn’t argue for once, which is a miracle in and of itself. I grab a couple of bags of peas from the freezer and a roll of duct tape from the drawer.

Maddox eyes the tape as I walk back and sit on the table in front of him. “What are you going to do with that?”

Setting my supplies down, I take in Maddox in his jeans and flannel shirt—both of which look like they’re close to bursting. It seems as if he’s been working out a hell of a lot since the last time I saw him, and it looks good on him. What I wouldn’t give to see and feel all those muscles up close and personal.

Needing to stop thinking of Maddox like a piece of meat, I reach down, pick up his foot, and start pulling off his boot, wanting to get this over with. “I thought I’d see if we could stick it to your leg and pull out your hair.”

He hums, his body stiffening as I start to remove the boot. “Is that how you wax?”

“Yeah, I’m fancy like that,” I chuckle as I slip the boot off. The laugh dies on my lips the second I see how swollen Maddox’s ankle really is through his thick sock. It’s not just a little bit swollen. It’s so swollen he shouldn’t walk on it for at least two days, and then it’s still going to be bad.

I start to peel off his sock, and the further I pull it down, the color changes to light blue to dark, and then a dark purple to almost black. His ankle is the size of a grapefruit—a mutant one.

My head snaps up to meet his. “How the hell did you walk on this?”

“Is it that bad?” He leans over to get a look, but I cover the black and blue area with the frozen bags of pea. Quickly, I wrap the tape around them to keep them in place. I guess it was a good thing I only have duct tape in the house. Otherwise, he would have seen just how bad it is.

“Bad enough that you’re going to stay the night here, so you don’t have to do any walking. Tomorrow I’ll take you to your house, and if you give me the general whereabouts of your machine, I’ll fill it up and bring it back to your place.”

Maddox’s eyes grow wide. “Is it broken? Did gangrene already set in?”

A heavy exhale leaves me as I push back and sit back on the table. “I’m no doctor, which we’ve already established, but I’m almost a hundred percent positive that you can’t get gangrene from a sprain. If that’s possible, we’d all be fucked.”

He gave me a look of disbelief. “The look on your face said otherwise.”

“And how did I look?” I shoot back, setting the tape on the table.

“Like I was never going to walk again. Seriously, you got me worried.” He sits forward, his hands going to the bags of frozen vegetables, and tries to peel the tape off.

I grip his wrists to keep him from looking. “You’re going to walk, but for the best and fastest recovery, you really should stay off it.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re offering for me to stay here because I’m dying.” He sits back, giving up. At least for the time being.

Again with the dramatics.

“You’re not going to die. Not today, at least.” I stand, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the table. “Why don’t you put your foot up, and I’ll grab us each a bowl of stew?”

Maddox’s blue eyes look around the living area and then come back to me. “You’re very domestic.”

“And you're a pain in the ass,” I say, turning away and head to the kitchen.

I’m filling our bowls when I ask, “Are you saying you never cook or clean your own place?”

“Of course, I do, but…”

“But you thought I didn’t? I’m not one to live in a pigsty if I have an option.” There’s no way in hell I’ll live in anything resembling the dump I grew up in.

I hand over one of the bowls to Maddox and sit down in the recliner facing the TV. “I hope you like Schitt’s Creek because I was planning on watching it until I fall asleep.”

His spoon clinks against the bowl before he clears his throat. “I’ve never heard of it, but it doesn’t matter; it’s your house. You can watch whatever you want. I’m going to eat and then hopefully pass out, so when I wake up, you can take me home.”

There’s the asshole I know and hate.

“I know it’s my place, but I’m trying to be fucking hospitable,” I snap and take a bit of stew. Stew that I usually crave, but tonight Maddox Blackburn has ruined it. It tastes like sawdust on my tongue.

I don’teverhave people over to my place, and when I do and try to be nice, he gives me shit. Well, fuck him. Maybe luck will be on my side, and Maddox will develop gangrene while he’s sleeping, and he’ll die in his sleep.

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