Page 24 of Missed Steps
I shake my head in protest.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do.” Mark releases me and gets off the bed. “You lie there, take in deep breaths, and just relax.”
I can hear him retreating. “What are you going to do?”
“Wait out here until you pass out.”
“Why would you—”
“For my sanity, Kyle,” Mark says seriously.
Chapter Eight
I wake up groggy and dying of thirst. I groan, rolling to the edge of the bed and reach for my prosthetic. I fumble around and grunt in irritation when it eludes me. Dragging my face over the edge of the bed, I squint at the floor.
There’s nothing there.
Frowning, I reach over and turn on the light, but even with the lamp’s illumination, there’s no sign of it.Oh, that’s right. I’m on the—where are my crutches? They’re not where they should be either. I sit up, dragging the blankets over the edge of the bed as I get vertical and drape them over my left leg to hide it. Panic zings through me as my gaze darts around the room and I can’t find anything to support me.
Do I have to hop around, searching? I don’t want to do that.
I’m swallowing back panic tears when the door inches open. Mark peeks in and startles.
“Kyle?” Mark rushes to me. “What’s wrong?”
“My leg,” I say, upset.
“Is it hurting?” Mark kneels in front of me and reaches for the blanket.
An electric current jolts through me. “Screw off,” I shove, catching him off balance.
Mark yelps and falls to the side, throwing out a hand to catch himself. His gaze jumps to my face as I clutch the blankets protectively to my leg. The surprise drains from his expression and he sinks into a comfortable position, lower down and out of arm’s reach. “Okay, hands to myself,” he says calmly.
“Where’s my—the prosthetic, Mark? Or the crutches. I can’t get out of bed without them.” I sound unreasonably upset, even to my own ears. I never talked to any of my doctors like this.
Mark curses and springs up. “One second.”
He’s back in what I believeisone second, and he’s pressing the crutches against my chest. “Here,” he says. “You’ve got them. Prosthetic is here.” He sets it down next to me on the bed. Mark retreats out of arm’s length and crouches, one knee resting on the ground.
I calm down. And once I do, the pill-induced fog clears enough that I remember why the prosthetic and crutches weren’t by the bed. I sniffle. “I’m sorry.” My voice is thick.
Mark holds his hands up in submission. “No. That was my mistake, Kyle. I should have left them by the bed. I didn’t even think about it.” There’s genuine regret in his voice, and I can tell from the way he grimaces that he feels bad.
“I shouldn’t have cursed at you like that. Or pushed you. I’m sorry.” I’m calm enough that tears don’t fall, but I’m incredibly regretful of my actions. “Since the accident, I’ve always had something next to the bed so that I can get up. It was a wheelchair in the hospital, and then crutches, and it’s been the prosthetic since I moved in here. When they were missing—I panicked. I’m so sorry, Mark. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
Mark leans in close enough to cover my hands with his. He gazes up at me, his eyes filled with compassion. “Kyle.” He squeezes my fingers underneath his. “I understand why you snapped, and I know that you didn’t mean it. Just like you know I didn’t intentionally leave you without the crutches. Okay?”
After a long moment of eye contact, I nod.
Mark reaches up and brushes his thumb against my cheek. A few tears had fallen, and he gently erases the tracks they made. I lean into his warm palm. “I’m sorry,” I murmur again, embarrassed.
“Enough,” Mark says with a firmer tone. “I know you’re sorry. I’ll know for next time not to reach for your leg while you’re upset.”
We’re both quiet for a minute. I’m pretty sure Mark is waiting for me to fully calm down. I only let myself feel a little embarrassed for my actions but spend more time mulling them over. I didn’t need to panic. I hate the idea of hopping around, but it would have done the job.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“A little after seven,” Mark tells me.
