Page 29 of Fractured Hope
Something akin to sadness flashed across Kay’s face as his eyebrows drew together before it quickly fell away as he turned back to look at me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked cautiously. “It can help.”
Nausea had me curling forward as I shook my head. “I’m still processing.”
“That’s okay, but it can be good to talk about it. I know that helped me.” He gave me a sympathetic smile.
“I’ll think about it.” Pausing, I placed my hand on his arm to look him in the eyes. “Thank you.”
Nodding, he stood and offered me a hand up, which I took. I was still reeling from my panic attack and my legs were shaky. He carefully led me back to my office chair and helped me sit.
“I’ve got to get back to Jolt. You should probably call it a day and get some rest after all that.” He gestured at the floor.
“You might be right. Can you let Atticus know I’m not feeling well on your way out? You don’t need to tell him why.”
Kay gave me an uncertain, assessing look. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
It was clear he didn’t agree with not telling Atticus, but I needed time to digest everything that had happened and what those emails meant. I didn’t want to worry him. He already went above and beyond for me. The last thing I wanted was for him to fret about me more than he already did.
Kay left, and soon after Atticus’s tall frame filled the doorway. He looked me over with sympathy on his face.
“Kay said you’re not feeling well. Would you like me to take you home?”
“Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble.” My body felt drained. I needed a shower and a nap.
“It’s no trouble. Seb can finish up the day and said he’d call if he needs me to come back in. Let’s go.”
Atticus helped me gather my things as we headed to the truck.
“Can I do anything? Get you anything?” he asked worriedly, checking me over like he was looking for further injuries.
“No, I’m okay, just feeling queasy,” I said, which wastruethe more I thought about those emails and what the last one could possibly mean. What was I going to do?
In almost no time at all, we arrived home.Home. When did I start thinking of Atticus’s place as home? How did he make me feel so safe?Mind still reeling, I shook off the thought. I couldn’t think about whatever was going on with Atticus. It was just too much!
He helped me inside and into my room. “Are you going to nap, or do you think a shower might make you feel better?”
I was exhausted, but a shower would help relax my muscles and wash the stress sweat away. “A shower, I think.”
“How about I make you some soup while you shower?”
“That would be nice, thank you,” I said, then hobbled down the hall to Atticus’s en suite.
I’d just about mastered showering by sitting in Atticus’s large tub and using the detachable sprayer. I turned the water on to let it heat up while I removed my clothes and the boot. Carefully hopping into the tub, I lowered myself and shifted so I could keep my foot elevated. Once I was comfortable, I lay back and relaxed against the bath pillow Atticus had bought for me. We’d found this was the easiest and most comfortable way to shower. I sprayed down my legs, then slowly moved the showerhead up my torso and over my chest, letting the warm water wash away the remains of my panic. I sat forward, awkwardly shifting to carefully rest my injured foot in the tub but in a way that wouldn’t put weight on the wrong spot.
Yes, this was just what I needed. I let the water cascade over my back, then over my hair. I’d become efficient at doing things one-handed and could wash my hair easily enough. Atticus had even bought me conditioner. I rinsed out the shampoo and reached for the conditioner. Staring at the bottle, I thought, not for the first time, about all the things Atticus had done for me. Some things were little, like this conditioner, and others were big, like letting me stay with him. He was such a caring and compassionate person, and he went out of his way to help. He was like no one I’d met in my life, and so was his family. I didn’t think real families like his existed until I met the Papadakises.
Atticus had given me more than a place to stay. I’d met kind people, made friends, had colleagues, a job. He showed me he cared every day when he made breakfast. He made my coffee just the way I liked it, and he checked on me at lunch every day. I’d settled in so quickly here in Hope’s Ridge.
I owed it all to Atticus.
I was jolted out of my thoughts as a hand touched my shoulder. Turning, I found Atticus kneeling beside the tub looking concerned.
“Are you okay? I called a few times, but you didn’t answer. I was worried.” He smiled gently at me before averting his gaze.
“I didn’t realize. I must’ve zoned out.”While thinking about you.
“Can I help you finish up? You look beat.” He took the conditioner I was still holding and poured some into his hands.
