Page 9 of Fractured Grief
Seb opened one eye and peered at me. “H-how?”
“You’ll see.” I couldn’t help but grin at the curious yet disbelieving look on his face as I moved to grab the spare overbed tray I’d seen in the hall and brought it to the end of Seb’s bed. I placed a thin pillow and then covered that with a folded-over blanket for extra padding. I carefully lifted each of his feet onto the tray and lowered it to be level with the bed.
“There, how’s that feel? A little better, no longer hanging off the bed.”
Seb was staring at me with a perplexed look on his face. When he still hadn’t said anything, I was worried I’d made him uncomfortable. “If it’s not helpful, that’s fine. I can put it back and think of something else.” I went to move the tray when Seb grabbedmy wrist.
“Wait,” he whispered in a husky voice. “It’s g-reat. Thank… you.” His gaze connected with mine, and I couldn’t look away. My skin tingled where we touched, and I shivered when Seb started rubbing his thumb back and forth over my pulse point.
“I’m glad I could help,” I said, not breaking eye contact. We were joined in this moment, like the only two people in the world. I raised my other arm to caress Seb’s cheek, when a loud crash sounded from outside and we jumped, the connection between us shattering.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked hurriedly, trying to shake myself out of the trance. “Would you like me to shift the bed so you can take a nap or turn on the TV?”
“Bed… pl-ease,” he mumbled, turning his head away from me.
Recovery was hard work. I knew it took a lot out of the body, and even the healthiest person would struggle with Seb’s type of injuries.
Carefully lowering the bed, I kept my hand on Seb’s shoulder so he didn’t startle or move as the bed shifted. Once it was at a twenty-five-degree angle, I stopped and locked it in position. I was about to speak when I heard soft snores. Chuckling to myself, I ensured he was situated and messaged a nurse about checking over his stitches as I left him to his nap.
I had case notes to write up and an exercise schedule to plan, so I headed back to the break room toget to work.
My four o’clock meeting with Carol came and went, and she approved my plan for Seb and adjusted my schedule for the rest of the week, as well as for all my new clients.
I was pleased with my progress, and I was fitting in well in the role. I’d even been asked to join everyone for drinks on Friday, which was such a nice gesture and meant more to me than my colleagues knew. Unfortunately, I’d had to decline since I had Hazel and hadn’t been organized enough to think about a sitter. After a long week, I just wanted to relax with my little girl and unwind with a movie.
Hazel and I grabbed pizza on the way home because I was too exhausted to cook. I ensured we ate at the table and added carrot sticks to Hazel’s plate to make myself feel a little better about her diet. Taking the wins where I could, and thankfully, Hazel liked carrots.
“You need to eat some, too, Daddy. Mommy would say so.” She raised a delicate eyebrow at me as I went to put the carrot sticks back in the fridge. I did a quick about-face and added a pile to my plate, too.
“You are so right, Miss Hazel,” I smiled at her. “Wash your hands and let’s head to the table. Do you want water or milk?”
“Water, please, Daddy.” She washed her hands in the kitchen sink.
Filling two glasses with cold water, I set them on the table by our plates. Hazel hurried around to sit in her seat.
“So, how was school today?”
Hazel finished her mouthful before mumbling, “It was fine.”
Pausing, I assessed my daughter. Hazel was shy but usually made friends quickly. “Only fine?”
She nodded.
“What’s the matter, sweet girl? Did something happen?”
She shook her head. Getting information out of kids was difficult, but I needed actual words. “Come on, Haze, talk to me.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“But it might make you feel better. I might be able to help.”
She paused and fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. “There’s a girl in my class who’s not very nice.”
Well, this was the first I’d heard. I thought she was doing well. She mentioned making friends that first day and talked nonstop about having her friend here for a sleepover.
“What happened, sweetheart?” I laid my hand on her tiny shoulder. She looked so forlorn.
“She says mean things about my friend. She makes fun of their glasses. She’s a bully, like the people who were mean to you and Mommy.”
