Page 33 of Dearest Protector

I wasn’t sure how I’d ever force myself to walk into a hospital so soon after the terror of being confined to one for so long.

My road to recovery had been long, painful, and terrifying.

I choked back a sob as I finally released my best friend. “Please don’t tell Ben,” I pleaded. “I like this job, and I’ll need recovery time and probably some physical therapy if they remove the hardware. I’d have to take time off work, and it’s really not painful right now. I need some time to get up the nerve to do it, and I have things I still want to finish for him. And then there’s the business I’m just starting. If nothing else, I do think there’s a chance I can succeed at switching careers. I can’t—”

“Ben would completely understand,” Katie scoffed. “He’s not about to fire you, Ariel. I’ll give you one week before I put my foot down and make a doctor’s appointment for you. If this needs to be done, it has to happen. Couldn’t you end up with an infection if you don’t?”

“It’s possible,” I waffled, trying to prolong the inevitable. “But not likely right now. I’d know if it was infected. The hardware is a little uncomfortable, and I’ve been noticing it a little more lately, but the removal isn’t something that has to get doneright now.”

“Then it should happen sooner rather than later so it never gets infected,” Katie insisted. “Tell me the truth, are you okay financially?”

I’d already gotten two ridiculously large paychecks from Ben, and I wasn’t paying much in expenses. “I’m good. Honestly. I’m not stretching the truth this time, I promise. I haven’t had this much money in my bank account for a long time. It’s not just the money, Katie. I’m happier than I’ve been in such a long time. I panic at the thought of going back into the hospital for anything.”

That was the honest truth.

Maybe after my prolonged stint in the hospital, and with so many surgeries under my belt, it probably should feel routine to get the hardware removed from my foot. But it wasn’t. It was frightening. I’d barely made it through my last surgery without having a complete meltdown.

I wasn’t reallythatbrave.

I’d had no choice back then but to continue my treatment, fear or no fear.

Katie wrapped an arm around my shoulders as she said earnestly, “We’ll handle this together, Ariel. But you’ll have to tell Ben. We’ll all give you whatever support you need to finish this painful part of your life.”

I nodded. “I just want it to be over. I want to put the past behind me. Just…give me a little time to deal with it.”

I wanted just a little bit more freedom before I had to be laid up all over again.

“Not to change the subject, but have you ever considered counseling?” Katie asked gently. “You know I’m doing it to try to banish my issues from the past. It’s helped tremendously, and if your insurance is anything like mine at Blackwood, it will cover the majority of the expense. I know someone good. Do you want me to give you her information?”

I surveyed my best friend for a moment, suddenly realizing how much she really had changed.

And it was much more than just having an amazing man in her life.

She was emotionally stronger, more confident in who she was, and comfortable in her own skin.

God, how I wanted that for myself, too.

I wanted to banish the ghosts of my past once and for all.

I slowly nodded. Maybe I could use some help to figure out who Ariel Prescott really was and what I wanted now that my dancing career was over. “Give me the info before you leave. I’ll make an appointment. It certainly can’t hurt.”

Katie shot me an approving smile. “It will help, but honestly, you’re stronger than you realize, Ariel. There aren’t many women who could deal with what happened to them like you have.”

Stronger than I realize?

Hell, someday I really hoped I could have as much faith in myself as Katie did.

Chapter 8

Ben

“Do you really think I can sell these limited edition prints for these prices?” Ariel asked doubtfully.

I watched her chew on her bottom lip as she looked over her website in preparation for going live tomorrow.

I’d taken her out to dinner to get her mind off her business launch, and now she was back at my house, fretting over her decisions as she sat on my living room sofa with her computer in her lap.

Fuck!I hated how unsure she was of her future success. Although her confidence was slowly improving, she still had no clue how good her artwork really was or how it touched people in a way that very few artists or photographers could.

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