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Chapter Twelve
Regan was released two days later, to his relief. He was irritable and feisty, armed with painkillers and ready to get the hell home.
Matthew had hired a young man by the name of Jared Harrison to take care of the horses. The broad shouldered young man adored horses and had been working with Regan’s old mentor at Stintson Farm. That didn’t lessen the blow to Regan that he couldn’t ride, let alone pick up a saddle, or really even brush Jupiter, simply because he couldn’t be on his feet for more than a few moments at a time.
But he insisted on walking through the stables to see his horses, stopping to pet each one and talk to them. By the time he was done, he was exhausted.
Ayla and Dan insisted he lay down once they were up in his apartment.
“I didn’t see any sign of him cleaning,” Regan grumbled as he removed the back brace. Dan rolled his eyes.
“Uncle Bill, the stables were spotless, and the hay completely fresh.”
“Jupe’s water looked low,” Regan rolled himself onto his bed.
“He had been drinking it,” Dan answered. Ayla hid her smile.
“I think he used too much polish on the saddles. The smell was too heavy.”
“You haven’t put foot in there in almost a week,” Ayla answered, leaning over and kissing the top of his head. “You’re just not used to it now.”
Regan sighed. “You’re going to shoot down my every complaint, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Ayla and Dan answered. Regan sighed and closed his eyes.
Ayla didn’t like the dark circles under his eyes, but she knew he was exhausted. His number one complaint wasn’t pain, it was not being able to sleep without being woken every two hours.
Ayla followed Dan out of the room, shutting the door quietly.
“Call me if you need anything,” Dan offered. “Even if he gets to be a bear and you need me to come slap him around.”
Ayla laughed. “I can manage him.”
“I’m glad you’re here with him, Ayla, I really am.”
“Me too.” She hugged the younger man tightly and Dan wondered why he didn’t want to let go.
But he did and left a few minutes later.
Ayla ran one hand over her hair, rubbing her eyes. She was tired as well. Walking back into Regan’s room, she lay next to him on the bed and was soon asleep.
***
She was woken a few hours later by his moaning in pain.
“Bill?” she asked sleepily, sitting up. The last rays of the sun were filtering in through the blinds.
His jaw was clenched and he was moaning, almost whimpering but still asleep.
“Bill,” she said his name again, placing her hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened and he looked confused. “Bill, are you in pain?”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Damn.”
“Hang on, I’ll get your medication,” she said quietly, getting up. She had set them all on his nightstand so they would be within easy reach and quickly located the pain medication. Helping him sit up enough to raise his head, he gulped the water quickly to wash the pills down, and lay back against the pillow.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Not right now. And not for food.” He managed a weak smile as he reached for her.
Ayla laughed. “Sorry honey, no can do.”
“I know,” he sighed. She walked around the bed and crawled across it, laying her body next to his. “I can’t kiss you from there.”
Smiling, she leaned over and brushed her lips over his. “You need to not get excited.”
“I can’t help it,” he smiled up at her but his eyes were glazing over rapidly as the medicine began to kick in. She kissed him again lightly, and laid her head on his arm. “How long do I have to sleep next to you before I can touch you?” he demanded, his voice thick.
“Four to six weeks, depending on how much progress you make,” she answered.
“Oh I’ll make progress,” he muttered, as he closed his eyes. Ayla smiled as he drifted off into a stoned mental state.
***
The next morning, Regan managed to roll himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. The bathroom wasn’t far away but walking was a chore and lowering himself to the toilet was going to be painful. He wasn’t about to wake Ayla to ask for help, he’d manage.
By the time he got back, he was in agony. His lower back had clinched up and he almost lost his balance. Sitting down hard on the bed, he felt Ayla stir. She hadn’t slept much either, he realized. Ayla had been at the hospital most of the time and had dark circles under her eyes.
He reached for the bottles next to the table and swallowed the pain pills. They were more effective than the muscle relaxer, he thought. He just needed to get his body to relax a bit.
Lowering himself on his side, he eased back into his position in bed, reaching out to touch Ayla.
“Need something?” she mumbled.
“No, Cupcake, I’m all right,” he answered quietly, running his hand over her hair. She rolled onto her side, snuggling against him and he held her close as he drifted off to sleep.
***
Ayla rose around ten, saw Regan was still sleeping and wandered out to the small kitchen. She had done some grocery shopping the day before. Regan was prone to keeping very little in his fridge.
She had coffee brewing and was pulling out ingredients for scrambled eggs, when she sensed him watching her. Turning, she smiled at him standing in the doorway.
“Good morning.”
He grunted in reply, startling her. “Coffee ready?”
He’s got that pinched look, I wonder if he’s in pain, she thought.
“Just about. Want me to bring you some?”
“I’m not an invalid,” he answered shortly. Ayla felt her temper bristle.
“I wasn’t implying you were,” she replied coolly.
Regan held out his hand. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. Come here?”
She did so, melting into his arms against the brace as he held her gently.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be grumpy,” he said, tilting her head up for a long, slow kiss.
“It’s okay,” she managed a moment later, hoping her knees wouldn’t give out. Neither could support the other at the moment.
“How about that coffee?” he asked, but he was still kissing her, his fingers wrapping her hair around them.
She chuckled. “You have to release me.”
“Mmm.” Was his answer as he drew her close again. She finally made herself pull away.
“Sit,” she said gently.
Regan needed a cushion to sit on the chair, but discovered the sofa didn’t have enough support for him And if he sat on it, it pushed the brace up, forcing the bar into chin.
“I feel like a freak,” he muttered as she sat at the table.
“Freak or no, it’ll help with the healing process.”
He grumbled some more as he drank his coffee, watching her move about his kitchen.
“I thought you couldn’t cook,” he commented.
“I can make eggs,” she laughed. “I can even manage bacon without burning it.”
“Smells good,” he commented. “Hey-what did you just put in those?”
“Salsa,” she answered absently, laying the bacon in the pan. She didn’t see his horrified reaction.
“Salsa?” he repeated. She turned to face him, her coffee mug in his hand. He noted how much he liked the vision of her in her pajamas, in his kitchen, making breakfast.
“It’s really good,” she said quickly, seeing the look of revulsion on his face.
“With bacon?” he asked doubtfully. She smiled.
“Trust me.”
Moments later, he was gingerly picking at the eggs, loaded with a salsa and an odd orange color.
“I don’t know about this,” he commented.
Ayla felt her irritation grow. “Then don’t eat it. I’ll make you something else.”
“No, no, I’m sure it will be okay,” Regan answered, taking a forkful. He chewed for a moment. It was edible. “Not bad.”
Ayla rolled her eyes at him, trying to suppress her irritation. Was he always this cranky and picky in the morning?
After they ate, Regan managed a short trip to the stables that wore him out. He insisted on talking to each horse, and petting them. Another round of his medication and he laid down to rest, quickly slipping into sleep. Dan had moved the television into the bedroom for his uncle, knowing Regan would be spending a lot of time in bed.
Ayla rubbed her eyes as she rinsed the dishes and put them in the washer. Running her hands through her hair, she decided a nap would be good and went to curl up with Regan.
The next week began to wear on Ayla, as Regan’s mood swings increased. She didn’t like how he was one minute sweet and affectionate, and the next, snarling at her. He had hit his head when he fell, and she called the neurologist twice, asking to clarify MRI and CAT scan results. They were all normal, she was told. There was no neurological reason for his personality shift.
She returned to her jogging, first thing in the morning and once she learned the paths of the Preserve, ran at dusk. It gave her a break from taking care of Regan, who was trying to come to grips with his situation. Moving in and out of bed was awkward, and he couldn’t bend down. She had to help him in the shower, and he could only sit upright for a few hours at time before he was moaning in pain. Ayla didn’t feel she could leave him all day long to go to the shelter for work, but the second week, she started working short shifts.
“I don’t know that there’s anything to be concerned about,” Dan told her. He was sprawled on his sofa watching old movies. Ayla called every couple of days and the last two calls hadn’t been good ones. She was upset about Regan snarling at her.
“Dan, something isn’t right,” she insisted. “He’s never been like this. I mean, granted, we haven’t been together all that long, but he’s never been so snarly and prickly.”
“True,” Dan admitted. “Usually Uncle Bill blows up and then it’s over.”
“Exactly. This is more like he simmers and stews over something, then just gets grouchy.”
“And you’ve talked to the doctor?”
“Yes. They said all of his tests were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary to explain why he’s suddenly Jekyll and Hyde.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow, it’s my day off. Maybe he just needs to get out a bit.”
“He goes to the stables every morning, but he can’t be down there for long and then he’s worn out for the afternoon and in pain.”
“Ayla, we also have to realize that Uncle Bill is a very active, independent man. He’s had his whole world turned upside down. He can’t even shower by himself. It’s got to be driving him crazy. He can’t go outside the way he wants to. He can’t ride his horses. Those are serious impediments on his lifestyle.”
“I know that Dan, and I try to understand, I really do, but this is just getting out of hand.”
“I’ll talk to him when I come over tomorrow,” Dan promised. “Has Tom been about?”
“Some,” she answered, leaning against her car. She was outside using the phone so Regan wouldn’t overhear her.
“Ask him to come around a bit more. Maybe he can take Uncle Bill out.”
“He doesn’t want to go out much because he’s conscious of his brace,” she sighed.
Dan scratched his head as he took a swig of beer.
“All right, I promise to talk to him and see if I can figure out what’s going on. In fact, why don’t I stay the night, so you can go home and get a good sleep?”
“I don’t know, Dan.”
“Look, you need a break and I bet he does too. I’ll stay over and see if I can ferret out what’s with him. You can have a night to yourself.”
Ayla reluctantly agreed.
***
“You two think I need a babysitter?” Regan growled over dinner.
“No, I just want to spend some time with my favorite uncle and I’d bet Ayla is missing her bathtub,” Dan replied smoothly, buttering a roll. “That tiny shower of yours can’t compare to the jets of her tub.”
Ayla just smiled at Dan.
“I can survive a night on my own you know,” Regan’s was slightly red from his temper.
“I’m sure you can,” Dan answered. “But I felt like hanging out and having a guys night that didn’t include a bunch of drunk off-duty cops.”
Regan just grunted. He glanced at Ayla, who was being quiet and not eating. Every time he started to kiss on her, she’d tell him no, he couldn’t get excited. The restrictions he was under were making him insane.
He couldn’t drive. Too much medication in his system and the pressure of a sudden stop would aggravate his condition. He could manage the stairs, but he had to have both feet on each step before he could take the next one. Unless he was just going to the bathroom, he had to put the damn brace on every time he got up. It was easier to just stay in bed, but tv was crap and he could only read so much.
The pain was coming more frequently, every couple hours. He was low on his pain medication and he knew Ayla would be reluctant to get him more. She was always going on about the medication, asking him if he really needed it. Sometimes he needed the muscle relaxers too, but they didn’t really help the pain, they just helped him relax.
And she didn’t want to fool around at all. He was barely able to get in a few kisses when she would pull away, reminding him they couldn’t have sex.
That was ok. He just wanted the contact. Regan wanted to hold her, just touch her skin. Sure, it drove him mad with desire, but it was better than nothing. She had to help him with the shower and she wouldn’t let him fool around in there either. It only added to his sour mood.
Regan wanted to be in his stables. He wanted to be brushing down his horses, talking to them, cleaning the tack. He missed the smells of saddle soap and fresh hay, the soft whispering of his animals. He wanted them back.
He wanted his life back.
Author Notes
- A big thank you to my editors, Robin and Kate. Any mistakes are mine!
- Alas, we have seen the last of Stalker Nurse. A huge round of applause to Lindsay (Reganfan) for allowing me to warp her likeness into a crazy Regan-obsessed stalker
- Word Count – 2,460
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