Healing Hope (Helping Hands, Healing Hearts Book 3) by J.M. Madden

Author:J.M. Madden [Madden, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-21T18:30:00+00:00

11

Paul woke uncomfortably, but feeling a little rested. He was uncomfortable because he was still wearing his prosthetic, which he never did in bed. Glancing at the window, he tried to gauge what time it was, but the blanket was still blocking out the light.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, he tried not to groan. His ribs were fucking killing him, and he needed to take a piss. Staggering to his feet, he crossed to the bathroom. He pushed his boxers down and sat on the toilet, wondering if he could climb in the shower. Jess would have to help him remove his prosthetic. Then she’d have to garbage bag his splinted arm.

No. Fuck that. The woman had been hired to take care of his daughter, not him.

Determined, he used his teeth to rip the velcro open on the splint, then did the same with the bandages. His knuckles were raw, and it hurt to make a fist, but it was less painful than he expected. The splint had been causing some of the pain. If he was careful, he thought he could get in the shower and do what he needed to do.

Moving very carefully, he unfastened the prosthetic and left it on the vanity.

The water felt incredible, or his skin was extra-sensitive. Whatever it was, it felt good, and it improved his mood immediately. Things needed to be taken care of, and he wasn’t getting any of it done lying in bed and being sore.

Once he showered, he stepped out onto the towel. It hurt like hell to bend over, so he lifted the towel with his toes to his hand and sat on it on the lid of the toilet. He dried what he could reach without bending over, then sat there and air dried for a few minutes.

He supposed it was good that he was hungry. There was a sense of unreality, because he had no idea what time it was since Jess had covered the window. Was it breakfast time or dinner time? He did not know. And he did not know where his phone was.

Mounting the prosthetic on his right shoulder took double the time it normally did because his good hand was so sore, and it was hard to manipulate the straps and buckles. The scalding water had limbered up the muscles in his hand and arm, though, and he managed. It also took him longer than normal to get dressed in sleep pants and a t-shirt, but whatever. It was done. He was clothed.

When he walked out of his bedroom, it was to the sound of silence, and for a moment he worried. He could now see that there was sunlight streaming through the windows, and the clock on the oven read three forty-five. Had he really been asleep that long? It had felt like mere moments, and he didn’t remember Jess coming in to check on him at all. He knew she had to have.

Paul peered through the drawn blinds on the French doors.

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