Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel (8 page)

Kit was going to say no, that the shower had helped a lot after all the stretching, but his brain yelled at him almost immediately. Hand on his skin. Neil hands. Oh, yes. How long had it been? Which, yeah, partly his fault because he didn’t like people touching him, but this was different. “That would be great. We have about twenty minutes before I have to do anything at the stove.”

“Cool. Are you comfortable there? Did you want to move into the middle of the room? And did you want some music? A lot of people like something gentle playing. Helps them relax.”

“Whatever’s best for you.” Kit moved out from the computer a little, assuming Neil would need room to work. “I don’t have any of that weird nature music or anything.”

Neil laughed, the sound almost surprised. “It doesn’t have to be new-agey to relax you.”

“I don’t really use music to relax.” That’s what TV was for. “But you can poke around and see what’s on the computer or on the shelf.” He pointed to the CDs by his father’s stereo.

“No, this is for you, and if music isn’t going to be relaxing, there’s no point. What do you use music for?” Neil’s hands landed on his shoulders, then slid away again. “Let’s get the T-shirt off first.”

“Dancing.” Kit peeled his T-shirt off and tossed it on the couch. “Cleaning the house. That’s about it, really.”

“Huh.” Neil’s hands landed on his shoulders again. They were still for a moment, warm and nice. Then the massage started, and nice didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Oh...” Kit didn’t try to keep the sound inside. His head fell forward and he closed his eyes. “What do you use music for?”

“Relaxing, something to listen to when it’s otherwise quiet. Company, I guess, in a lot of ways.”

Kit thought about that. “I like quiet, mostly. Sometimes it gets heavy, though, and starts to drive me crazy. I suppose when I lived on my own I had the TV on a lot for company, maybe.”

“I’m not a huge fan of TV. I find I get to watching, and before I know it, I’ve wasted a whole bunch of time.” Neil’s fingers worked on a particularly tender bit of muscle.

“I have more time now than I did.” Kit angled his head to give Neil room, another sound escaping. “When I was... before the accident, I didn’t watch a lot. Now I have actual shows I follow.” Some were better than others, Kit knew, but he did have his favorites.

“Yeah?” Neil chuckled and then made a soothing noise as the muscle popped audibly, the pain intense for a second before fading away to nothing.

“Oh God.” Kit’s eyes flew open. “Nice.” He settled again and nodded. “I like all those cop shows. I might be missing one or two -- and I’m a decade behind on a couple -- but I like them.”

“I like mystery novels.” Neil moved on to another trouble spot, this one lower down.

Kit leaned forward, draping himself over his legs. “Old ones or new ones? Like, Agatha Christie stuff or James Patterson?”

“Yes. Seriously, I love them all. I love the grittiness of the modern stuff and the order of the old stuff. I enjoy the new characters and love revisiting favorite detectives like Holmes or Marple.”

“Holmes is good. I’ve read all of those.” Kit had a sudden image of Neil curled up under a blanket on a couch somewhere, lost in a book. He liked it. “Little lower, please.”

Neil’s hands moved down obligingly, finding a new knot of muscles. God, the guy’s hands were like magic.

“Oh, yes. There.” Kit nodded and gave up a little moan. “Harder.”

“Like this?” Neil’s voice had gone a little husky, but those fingers didn’t give up the job.

“Uh-huh.” Kit smiled to himself. That was more like it. He even had plausible deniability if he needed it. It was just a massage. “Just like that. So good.” He also had the start of a hard on, but that was okay by him.

He could hear Neil’s breathing get heavier as the man worked along his spine.

“Oh yes,” Kit whispered. “Deeper.” His imagination started to take off against his actual intent. Neil had amazing hands and knew what to do with them.

Neil didn’t say anything, but the massage went deeper, demanding that his muscles relax, give way. Kit groaned and sank all the way onto his legs. He wished he was lying down, that there was a bed under them. He tried to gather his thoughts so Neil wouldn’t know how far gone he really was, but Neil’s hands kept sweeping good intentions away. “You’re really good at this,” he managed to say, his voice a little croaky.

Neil’s hands stilled for a moment. “Yeah? You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, yes. Very okay. Don’t stop.”

Neil’s chuckle was as husky as his voice had grown. “Okay.”

Kit took a chance. “I’m kind of regretting that supper’s cooking, honestly. One of these days, though, I’m going to ask for a really long massage, out of the chair.”

“Sure, I can do that. Or I can give you the number of someone I work with. She’s amazing -- puts my skills to shame.”

Kit rolled his eyes behind his closed lids. “No, goof. You.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can do that. A massage.” Neil paused and started talking, words beginning to run into each other. “There’s some tables in the therapy room. Make sure you remind me to book you an extra-long appointment. That way the time is already built in and we won’t run into someone else’s appointment, and you won’t feel hurried. Nothing makes a massage more of a waste of time than feeling like the massage therapist can’t wait to be done with you.”

“Or, you know. We can go for really private with no chance of interruption and not be at the hospital.”

Neil’s hands stilled, then stopped massaging and just gently rubbed his skin. “I can’t do that, Kit.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my patient.”

Kit frowned. “So? You’re not a doctor, you’re a physiotherapist.” He wasn’t sure at all that it mattered.

Neil sighed. “It wouldn’t be professional, Kit. I’m sorry.”

Kit lifted his head and just barely stopped himself from pointing out the lack of professionalism in their meal about to be shared and weekend day trips to rock walls. He could use those things to his advantage, if he was smart.

“Okay,” he said, slowly. “I understand. But it’s too bad -- you’re awesome with your hands.”

“I can give you massages -- it’s part of the therapy. I just... in your bedroom is going to lead to more, Kit. And I can’t cross that line, not with a patient.”

And right there was the information Kit was digging for, even if he hadn’t been totally sure of it himself. “I see. Well, then.” He sat up and stretched his arms, not bothering to even attempt discretion. “We better get me better then, so I don’t need your professional services, huh?”

Neil took a deep breath and then met his eyes. “I think I’d like that, Kit.”

“Great.” Kit beamed at him and firmly set aside the matter to ponder later, when he was alone in bed. “Let’s check on supper then, shall we?”

Neil looked a little lost at the sudden switch of subjects, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Kit took pity. “If we discuss the matter, I’m probably going to be both relentless and duplicitous. I’m not above whining, teasing, arguments that don’t hold up under close inspection, and flat out bribery. No one has touched me in months and months for any reason other than helping my body move. You’d have to leave to be safe, and I want you to eat roast beef. See?”

Neil snorted and nodded. “Okay, I get it.”

“Cool.” Kit beamed again. “And no one tells my dad. Trust me, you don’t want my dad trying to make us spend time alone together.”

Neil started laughing at that, then the laughter faded away. “You really haven’t had anyone touch you except professionally since the accident?”

“Just my dad, giving me a hug.” Kit looked away, not sure how Neil would react and not wanting to see pity. Sympathy he could deal with, but pity was hard.

“You really do know how to push all the right buttons to make someone forget they have a working relationship to maintain, don’t you?”

“Apparently without trying.” Kit shrugged a little ruefully.

“Well, the way I see it we have a couple of choices.” Neil waited ‘til Kit had his T-shirt back on and started pushing him back to the kitchen. “We can keep on as we are and try to keep thing professional. Or I can find you another therapist.” Neil shook his head. “The problem with the second option is that I firmly believe that having consistent care is important. We already have a routine, a working rapport. I have plans for moving things forward on the swimming and climbing front to combine that in with your therapy...”

“I don’t want another therapist.” Kit frowned at the thought. “I’m used to the way you work, and I get a little crabby; I don’t want to break in a new person.”

Laughing, Neil nodded. “I can see that. Okay. Lots of focus on the work, then. We have extra motivation to get you back on your feet, don’t we?”

Kit gave him a close look and asked, “Are you going to get mad if I make the occasional slip and try to get you flirting? Because I know myself well enough to know I’m going to try.”

“I won’t be mad. I may even respond. We can’t take it further than that, though. I would feel like I was taking advantage.”

Kit rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. “Take advantage. I don’t mind. Really.”

Neil met his gaze, head on. “I would, though.”

Well. Kit sighed and nodded. “All right. If it’s that huge a deal to you, I’ll try my level best to respect that.” Not that it would be easy, mind you, but nothing much had been easy for a long time. “Can you use the meat thermometer on the roast, please?”

“I really do like you, Kit. In more than a you’re-my-patient way. You’ll see, the time will pass quickly.” Neil took the thermometer and opened the oven. “What temp am I looking for?”

“About one-fifty. I hope the time goes quickly -- if only so the exercises get better. It’s hard, forcing muscles to work in ways they’re not used to and don’t want to. It’s only been in the last few weeks I’ve become convinced they’ll ever work again, honestly. For a long time I couldn’t even wiggle my toes.”

“I think you’ll find that now that your muscles are starting to respond, they’ll improve more quickly.” Neil turned to look at him. “Just think of it as a really long courtship.”

“Will there be flowers?” Kit smiled and checked the side dishes, lifting each pot down carefully so he could get a good look. “Candy? Serenades?”

“Trust me, you don’t want me singing to you.” Neil took out the roast. “It’s done.”

“Oh, fantastic. I mean about the roast, not about the singing.” Kit put his current pot back and took a trivet to the kitchen table. “Could you put the roast here to rest? It’s low enough that I can slice it over here in a few minutes.”

Neil grabbed the roasting pan and put it on the table. “It’s all going to work out. You’ll see.”

“I’ll make every attempt to match your optimism.” He even meant it, too. Kit set to making their meal, for once seeing a brighter future.

Chapter Five

It was nearly a month before Neil was able to arrange private time at the pool that matched both his and Kit’s schedules. Today was the day, though, and Kit had been more enthusiastic about it every day. He just hoped that all went well. A setback here, where Kit thought he was going to do well, could put him back in all areas.

He glanced at his watch. Kit should be here any minute and then Neil would take him up to the pool.

“Morning, Meg!” Kit’s voice sounded not only cheerful as he greeted the nurse at the station, but loud as well, like couldn’t contain himself. A moment later, Kit and his wheelchair arrived at the door. “Ready!” Kit was grinning at him with all his teeth showing. “Come on.”

Chuckling, Neil grabbed his keys. There were towels upstairs, and he had his trunks on under his sweats. “Are you wearing your swimming suit already?”

“Hell, yes. I’ve been ready since six.” Kit wheeled himself back and gave Neil room. “I was all ‘I’m gonna use a cane!’ and my dad was all ‘You so are not, idiot. Eat your breakfast before I report you’. Total party pooper.”

That had Neil laughing harder. It was great to see Kit so enthusiastic.

The man had been doing well with his therapy, and the flirting hadn’t been too outrageous. Neil loved seeing Kit like this, though, all enthusiastic eagerness. He liked what he saw, and that boded well for how they might get along when they were friends and possibly more instead of therapist/patient.

“Do you know if there’s going to be anyone else in there?” Kit asked as they made their way to the elevator.

“No, we’ll be on our own. That’s why it took so long to book it -- I wanted to make sure you didn’t have an audience for your first time.” He took care of his patients, their needs.

“Thanks.” Kit flashed him a smile, the one that Neil thought of as his smile. It was a little different, a little special, and Kit didn’t give it to anyone else, ever. “And we have a full hour?” They got in the elevator and Kit expertly got his wheelchair facing forward.

“Nope.” He bit his lip to keep from laughing at Kit’s crestfallen look. “We have an hour and a half. I figured if you got tired of actually swimming, you could just float.”

“Don’t do that to me!” Kit looked like he was trying to be mad, but the fist pump just didn’t go along with it. “Can this elevator go any faster?”

Neil couldn’t help but tease. “I set it to slow.”

“These is no such thing. And here I thought you might want to see me in my bathing suit. Now I have my feelings all hurt and stuff.” Kit couldn’t even stop smiling long enough to act offended.

Neil just snorted, the sound cut off by the low ding of the elevator, and the doors sliding open. The smell of chlorine instantly filled the air.

“Oh.” Kit sniffed, inhaling deeply. “That’s horrible. Get me in it.” He moved forward, already following the signs.

“We need to get you stripped down first.” He took hold of Kit’s wheelchair and moved it to the stairs with the railing, then locked the wheels in place.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Kit was eyeing the pool, though, his flirt only at about half its usual innuendo. “Is it warm?”

“Yeah, most therapy pools are kept much warmer than regular ones.”

Kit tugged off his hoodie and then his T-shirt. “Okay, let’s get in there. Now, now, now.” He was laughing, but he was stripping down fast.