When I get to the house, I don’t have a plan other than sitting around and waiting for CJ to get there. I want to hear him out. I want to believe he’d be honest with me and tell me over anyone if he was healed up enough to walk around like this. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because we’re together. I want to listen while CJ explains why he didn’t have his boot on today, because today is different. He’s not healed. He’ll have an excuse, something that will make total sense, and then we’ll laugh about the whole thing and spend the rest of my free day together in bed. We’ll cuddle until our touches grow urgent.
That is the only plan I have for us, so I can’t explain why I pack up my things.
It’s over two hours later before CJ returns home.
I’m sitting on the couch reading over the discussion notes my teacher posted for the class we missed when the door pushes open.
“Hey,” he greets me.
I close my laptop and set it aside, dropping my feet to the carpet. Sitting forward, I notice CJ is back to wearing his boot. And the original, newer condition sneaker he left the house with.
He knew I would be home. My class would’ve gotten out by now. That’s why he’s wearing it.
With doubt whispering in my ear, I force a smile. “Hey. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, it was all right.” He tosses his keys on the counter. “How was class?”
“I didn’t have it.”
CJ frowns over his shoulder as he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “You didn’t?”
I shake my head. “There was a power outage. It was canceled. Now we have to do all of this stuff online, which sucks. I always have to email my teacher about things I don’t understand. Hey. How’s your leg feeling?” I throw my question at him in a rush. I can’t say it fast enough.
CJ chuckles opening a bottle of Gatorade. He lifts it to his mouth.
“Any different? Better?” I continue to probe, my body hanging halfway off the couch as I twist to look at him. “Like, all of a sudden you’re seeing a huge improvement and you don’t think the boot is necessary anymore?”
“All of a sudden?” he echoes, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. His brows are lifted.
“Yes. Like today. By the time you left here and got to McGill’s. The boot was no longer necessary, so you took it off to play pool.” I stand from the couch and spin around to face him.
CJ’s mouth slowly goes tight and his brows pull together. He grips the back of his neck and looks to the floor.
“I was at McGill’s,” I explain.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“Are you . . . better? Is your leg healed?”
He sighs and lifts his head, dropping his arm to his side. “I don’t know,” he answers. “It’s not like I’ve been cleared by the doctor or anything, but it doesn’t bother me. I can walk on it. I’ve run on it a few times . . .”
“What?” My eyes widen. He’s run on it?
“I wanted to see if I could do it and have that shit not bother me,” he explains. “I gotta chase after people occasionally. It’s part of the job.”
“You aren’t working right now, are you?” I ask. My voice shakes.
What else has he been lying about?
“What? No.” CJ gives me a look like I’m crazy for asking that question. He walks over to the counter and sets his Gatorade down next to the paper towel holder. “I told you. I haven’t been cleared.”
“But you’re better enough to walk around without your boot and run. You just throw your boot on in front of me, so I don’t know you’re better.”
My chest is heaving now. I can feel myself getting worked up.
CJ cocks his head. He looks mildly remorseful. “Come on. Let’s sit down and talk,” he suggests, moving down the counter.
“I don’t want to sit down.”
He stops. “All right. We’ll stand and talk.”
“I just don’t understand why you’ve been lying to me. Why wouldn’t you tell me your leg was healed up?”
“What would you have done?” he asks, bracing his hands on either side of the sink.
“What do you mean?”
“If I would’ve told you, what would you have done, Riley? Moved out? Gone to live with your brother? Your parents?”
I blink. I haven’t even thought about that, but I suppose . . .
“Well, I guess I would’ve moved in with my parents,” I answer, crossing my arms under my chest. “You wouldn’t need a nurse here . . .”
CJ slowly shakes his head.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re asking me why I didn’t tell you? That’s why,” he says. His voice is sharper now. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you stay here, Riley? Why would you leave? We’re together.”
My mouth opens, shuts, then opens again. “You would want me to live here, like, officially?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
We stare at each other across the room.
CJ’s house is spacious. The living room and kitchen are fairly large. But I suddenly feel like the walls are closing in on me.
My shoulders slouch. “I just, I figured . . . well, you asked me to move in so I could be your nurse, CJ. That was our deal.”
“Babe, that deal was up a long fucking time ago,” he states. A hint of laughter touches his voice.