The Roommate Pact(27)

The urge to use the restroom hit him and he sat up, putting his weight on his hands while rotating his lower body. He didn’t gauge the distance to the edge of the bed well and his injured leg bumped the wood frame before he got it all the way over. Cast or not, everything inside was still tender, and pain blazed up his shin and into his thigh.

Without thinking he clenched his teeth and a wave of agony tore through his jaw. An involuntary, silent groan of pain tried to rip from his throat. If he’d been able to, the word fuck would have left his mouth at a volume loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He slammed his fist on the bedside table, desperate for a physical outlet.

At the time, having a catheter while in the hospital had seemed unnecessary and he’d frankly been embarrassed to have one. Now, he realized he hadn’t been prepared for the ordeal of getting up and getting to the bathroom.

And on a liquid diet, it was bound to happen often.

“Graham?” Claire rushed into his room, Reagan on her heels. “What the hell are you doing?”

Heat flooded his cheeks as he pointed a shaking hand toward the hallway.

“You’re in pain. You can’t get up.” She checked her watch. “You’re due for another dose of pain medication. Just...lay back down and tell me what you need. I’ll get it.”

“I can help, too,” Reagan chimed in.

The mortification of this moment did nothing but piss him off. He pressed his good foot onto the floor for balance, and with jerky movements, grabbed his phone from where he’d left it on the bed. He tapped out a message and held the phone in Claire’s face, glaring at her as she read.

I can take a fucking piss without help.

“I’ve got it, Reagan,” Claire said, keeping her voice calm. “You’ve still got a lot of packing to do, anyway. Thanks, though.”

“Okay, just let me know if I can do anything.” Reagan offered him a sad smile before she disappeared into the hallway.

Claire handed his phone back and walked to the corner of his room. She reached into the bag she’d brought home from the hospital and pulled out a clear, plastic urinal that looked like a half-gallon milk jug.

“I grabbed one of these from the supply room. It might be easie—” She stopped when he shook his head.

He grabbed his crutches. The quicker he got this over with, the quicker he could take the meds.

“Graham, don’t be ridiculous. It’s obvious you’re hurting and this will be easier. I’m a professional, and there’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

He didn’t look at her as he stood, using his core and arms to straighten and balance. He didn’t look at her as he slowly ambled past, and he definitely didn’t look at her when she positioned herself in the hallway across from the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest. He simply shut the door with his elbow, taking a small measure of satisfaction at the slam echoing through the walls.

With the exception of the alien from ET (because what the hell, that dude was creepy as fuck), few things scared Graham.

So it was a surprise to find sleeping in his bed, alone in his room at home, was one of them. More specifically, being unable to call out if something went wrong and he needed help. The doctor had talked about the risk of complications after surgery, like blood clots and shit. What if something like that happened and he couldn’t breathe? Or talk?

At the hospital, not only had he been hooked up to various machines being monitored by other people, but he had a button to call for help. And even though Claire said not to, he’d tested his voice this morning. The doctor had been pretty vague about when it would return, so how else would he know?

So far, nothing. And yeah, it hurt.

Typical Graham would bitingly tell himself to shut up and quit worrying, and everything would be fine. But he’d never been quite so helpless or dependent on other people.

Claire would sleep in here if he asked her to, right?

That pesky fear of appearing weak and pathetic flared when he picked up his phone, but in the darkness and still a little high on pain meds, he pushed it aside.

Graham: You still up?

Claire: Yeah, need something?

Graham: Could you come in here for a sec?

She was in his room two seconds later, as if she’d already been on her way before he asked.

Gertrude immediately sat up and growled. Graham ran a soothing hand down her back and she settled back down but kept her eyes on Claire, body vibrating with a low, quieter rumble.

He adored his dog’s sass.

Claire stuck her tongue out.

He kind of adored Claire’s sass, too.

She took a few steps closer to the bed, passing her gaze down his body as if making sure he was all right. Her curly blond hair was piled on top of her head and the thin-strapped tank top and shorts she wore left an extreme amount of skin exposed.

Graham suddenly remembered the last conversation they’d had before his accident. Tomorrow, Reagan would leave for Florida, and he and Claire would be here alone. Which meant they would have...

He mentally slapped himself for getting hurt, then kicked himself in the balls for good measure.

“What do you need?” she asked.

She hadn’t brought her phone, so he typed out a text and handed it to her.

I’m sorry about earlier.

She stared at the screen for several seconds longer than necessary, then her hazel eyes met his. “Don’t worry about it.”