Page 98 of Hot Damn
So many questions and not enough answers. I want to shake my head and rattle all the missing memories lose, but I don’t think that will help the dull pain at the back of my skull.
“I’ll put your bag in the bathroom. Do you need Whit to help you with anything?”
“No. I think I’m okay.”
“I’ll stay here so you can call out if you need me.” Whitney lowers herself back to the bed.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to.” She smiles at me and I know I’m not going to win this argument, and to be honest I don’t have the energy to fight it.
“Okay. I’m getting in the shower.” I head for the bathroom only for Beckett to overtake me, my bag in his hand.
Once he places it on the floor, he opens it up and asks, “What do you need? I’ll put it on the vanity so it’s within easy reach.”
“Beckett.” I wait for him to look at me. “I’m not an invalid. I can bend down and get whatever I need.”
“You’ve got a headache. Bending down repeatedly won’t help it.”
I don’t recall confirming I have a headache.
“You get a crease, right here”—he presses a finger to the skin at the top of my nose—“when you’re in pain.”
“It could be my hip.”
Beckett nods. “It could. But you’re walking without a limp now so it’s not your hip and the doctor said you might wake with a headache.”
“I feel out of touch. Confused.”
“That could be the remnants of the sleep med or the lack of memory. The last time you were awake, we were outside the visitors’ locker room in the Miami arena. Now you’re here.”
What he says makes sense and while I get how I got here doesn’t really matter, I want toknowit. I need to put all the pieces together. I hate the out of control feeling I have right now. It too reminiscent of a past I put behind me long ago.
“Will you tell me everything that happened?”
“Of course.” He points at my bag. “Tell me what you need out of here and I’ll let you get that shower.”
“My pjs and toiletries bag.”
He quickly has a pile on the counter. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“Call out to Whit if you need help.”
“I won’t need?—”
“Cam. Don’t push yourself. There’s no shame in asking for help in a situation like this.”
I know he’s right. But when your formative years are spent taking care of yourself because no one else cares enough to do it, your natural instinct is to do it on your own.
It took years before I let Dad and Mom look after me. Years of hiding every bump or bruise or illness because I didn’t trust they’d help if I told them.
“Stop overthinking this and hop in the shower. The hot water should help clear your head and ease any aches remaining from the other day.”
I force a smile. “It’s hard to stop my mind from spinning. Although I’ll try because you’re right. I have a headache and all this thinking is only making it worse.”
“I’ll put together something more substantial than toast and make you a protein shake. Your body is still in repair mode from the fall and now this.” He shakes his head. “You’ve been through the wringer. Food, fluid, and rest for you for the next couple of days.”
