Page 42 of Playing for Keeps (Checkmate 4)

“How’s it look, doc?” I follow them toward the doorway. “All good?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss my medical details with everyone in the fuckin’ street,” Riley grumbles. Turning at the open fridge, he has Kari’s lips closing in an instant. “Pretty sure there are laws about that.”

“There are.” She does a kind of curtsy, glances at the floor, and nods. “I won’t discuss your business, Riley. You can trust me.”

“I don’t have to trust you.” He slams the fridge and rests a bottle of orange juice in his lap. “I just have to trust that you wanna keep your job. Now get the fuck out.”

Within minutes, a sad Kari, and a fuming Luc step outside and close the front door. Like day and night, the house turns perfectly silent but for Nacho’s exploratory snorts now that the strangers have left.

I peek out the front window and watch them climb into their car, pull out of the driveway, and drive out of sight. Then I turn to him. “What the hell is your problem, Riley? You threaten her fucking job? You’re an asshole! We get it, you’re bitter, but you don’t get to threaten the job she’s spent more than a decade earning.”

“I didn’t threaten shit.” He turns his chair and slams the juice near my notebook. “I reminded her of the vow she took when she claimed her degree and paycheck. The same way I took a vow to protect and serve.” He flips the brakes on his chair and scoots forward before I stop to think about what he’s doing. Grunting, he lifts his weight and stands to reach up for a glass tumbler. “Pretty fucking sure I didn’t vow to give up a leg, but here we are.” Slamming the cupboard door closed, he drops down again and squeezes his eyes shut when the impact hurts him more than he anticipated. His hands turn white; one on the wheelchair handle, the other wrapped so tightly around the glass, I wonder if it might shatter under the pressure.

“Riley…” I step forward. I told myself I wouldn’t baby him. He wouldn’t like it, and I intended to give him the dignity that was stolen from him in the hospital, but I can’t stay away. I can’t bear to see him in pain. Moving around the island counter and stopping in front of him, I squat down so he’s taller, and slide a hand over his uninjured thigh. “Are you okay? I know that hurt; I’m sorry.”

“Back up, Dee.”

I rub his thigh; up and down, as though to warm him from the friction. “You don’t have to fight me, Riley. I’m here to help. I’m trying to help.”

“Back. Up. Dee.”

“Come over to the couch for a little while; you must be exhausted, so let’s put on a movie and snuggle. You don’t have to–”

“I said back up, Andrea! Fuck.” He shoves my hand off his leg so hard I hit myself and fall back onto my ass. “Why can’t you just listen for once in your life? I said I didn’t want you here. But you’re here. I said stay in my bed. You wouldn’t stay in my bed. I said back the fuck up, and you make me knock you over instead of doing as you’re fucking told.” My eyes itch as I watch him slam the glass on the counter and reverse the chair. “Maybe we wouldn’t be here, fighting, missing a fucking leg, if you’d just listen for once!”

He grabs the whole bottle of juice and sets it on his lap. Backing up until his chair smacks the fridge, he turns in the small space and moves into the hall with squeaking wheels and an air of rage burning the oxygen in the room.

Ninja’s heavy paws thump the hardwood floors, then Nacho’s exploratory snorts and clipping nails. When everything goes silent, the door at the top of the hall slams shut, and I find myself still on the floor with a racing heart and rapidly blinding eyes.

I was so sure we were making progress. We ate breakfast together. We joked a little.

But here I am, day two on this strange planet, all alone in his kitchen while he locks himself away in his bedroom.

* * *

Riley didn’t comeout of his room again that day. Or the next. Or the next.

I brought meals to his room on a tray, left them on the foot of his bed, nodded by way of greeting, then excused myself to go back to the living room to live my solitary life.

An hour or two after each meal time, I’d knock on his door and retrieve the tray, only to be met with harsh glares, or worse, nothing at all.

The glares hurt. They sit heavily on my chest and squeeze my heart until it almost feels like I might suffocate.

But the way he’d completely ignore my existence is so much worse.

I’d come in, try for a little small talk,was it yummy? I’m glad to see you ate it all. I baked cupcakes; want one?only to be met with stony silence and the sounds of Wheel Of Fortune reruns on the television.

Being hated hurts, but not existing is way worse.

Kari has stopped by each day; same time, same routine, and each day, Luc would come and sit with me at the counter, but we don’t chat anymore. He just joins my silent vigil while Kari and Riley go to the room and do their thing.

But this is my life now, because I went ahead and fell in love with a guy thatusedto deserve it. Each night that passes where I sit on his leather couch, while his fire warms my right side, and his ice-cream freezes my insides, I try to reason with myself.

He’s hurting; give it time.

He doesn’t want you; just leave already.

He’s a good man inside. He’s grieving. A woman in love would never consider leaving.

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