“But, my Mom’s there. She can’t…” I stopped talking and then, not meaning to, I gave him the girlie “please” look that worked on Smithie, “Eddie, I have to go home.” He looked at me for several seconds then he muttered,

“Fuck.”

He grabbed my hand and pul ed me forward. “I’l take you home.”

Relief flooded through me as he pushed through the front doors.

“Thanks Eddie.”

My relief was short-lived.

“We’l stop by my place on the way. I’l pick up a change of clothes.”

Eek, eek and eek!

“What?” I shouted.

Eddie stopped by his truck. “You don’t stay at my place, then I’m stayin’ at yours.”

No.

No, no, no.

“I’m sure I’l be al right,” I assured him.

“I’m sure too, mainly because I’l be there to make sure,” Eddie said, opening the passenger side door.

“We don’t have a lot of room,” I said to him as he helped me into his truck.

He stood in the opened door, looking at me.

“You got a couch?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, and wished I didn’t, “But it isn’t very comfortable.”

“You sleep on it?”

“No.”

“Your Mom sleep on it?”

This wasn’t getting any better.

“No,” I answered.

“Then you have room.”

“Eddie…” I said to the slamming door.

Eddie swung in behind the wheel and my mind whirled, trying to find some excuse, any excuse, for Eddie not to come to my house, spend the night on the couch, protecting me from men with knives.

I couldn’t find one.

He started the truck and off we went… to my doom.

Chapter Six

It Was Time to Take Things in My Own Hands The alarm went off and I stared at it.

5:20 am.

I hated my life.

I hit snooze.

My alarm went again.

5:27 am.

I really hated my life.

I hit snooze again.

My alarm went again.

5:34 am.

Seriously, my life sucked.

I turned off the alarm, rol ed out of bed and, stil half asleep, shuffled out the door, through the living room and into the kitchen. I opened the coffee filter to make sure Mom had set it up last night with coffee. She did, so I flipped the switch. I shuffled back through the living room and down the short hal , yawning and pul ing my hair away from my face with one of my hands.

I knocked on Mom’s bedroom door and when I heard her cal , I opened it and leaned against the doorjamb. I didn’t have the energy to hold my body upright.

“Mornin’, Mama,” I said across the room.

“Mornin’, dol face,” Mom replied sleepily.

“You getting up?”

I lifted both my hands to pul my hair off my neck and bundle it on the top of my head and I left my hands there.

Mom tried to get up with me in the mornings, that way I could get her sorted before I went to work. She could sleep while I worked, not to mention she could go to bed early.

“Sure, I’l have breakfast with you,” Mom said.

“You wanna try it alone today? Or do you want me to help?” I asked.

Mom was walking around a bit. Depending on her energy levels, she could get herself in and out of her chair, to the bathroom, around the apartment, even stand at the kitchen counter for awhile. She was also doing a lot better at getting herself dressed, which was exhausting one-handed. The PT and OT told her she’d get used to it, get stronger, and it would eventual y be a walk in the park (literal y). Even though progress was slow, it was happening.

Mornings were good. Evenings were not so good. Ada came over at night to watch TV with Mom because Ada wanted the company but also to be close to Mom in case something happened. Ada was too old to do transfers or pick Mom up if she fel , but she could make a phone cal or go down the hal to one of the more able-bodied neighbors.

“I’m gonna try it alone,” Mom told me, ever the trooper.

“Okeydoke.” I said, pul ing the door to but keeping it slightly ajar so she could have privacy but I could hear if she cal ed. I turned away, my hands going back to holding up my hair, my eyes to the floor. I walked a step and then stopped dead.

I saw two bare feet, their heels and ankles covered with the hems of some faded jeans. My eyes traveled up the jeans, hit a set of well -defined abdominal muscles covered in luscious olive skin. The abs gave way to a very nice chest and shoulders and on top of it al was Eddie’s head, complete with sexy-sleepy eyes and messy hair.

I froze and stared.

I total y forgot about Eddie.

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, his voice slightly gruff from sleep.

I didn’t have the capacity to speak, so I just took one of my hands from my hair and pointed at a door.

He walked the three steps to me, stopped, put his hand to my jaw and brushed his lips against mine. A thril of electricity tore through my body, rooting me to the spot and then he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

I stood there a second, then whirled and ran to Mom’s bedroom, suddenly ful of energy. I threw her door open and charged in, then closed it behind me.

Mom had the light on and was sitting on the side of the bed. Her head shot around and she looked at me, her eyes bright and wide-awake. “Was that a man’s voice I heard?” she asked.

I didn’t answer.

What could I say? I was in a tizzy.

I ran to her bathroom, throwing on the light and staring at myself in the mirror. Thank God, I didn’t look a fright. Face free of makeup and I didn’t have a bedhead. In fact, Trixie’s new ‘do seemed the ultimate, it looked good al the time, even after I’d slept on it.

When I turned around, Mom was standing, leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom. “What’s happening?” she asked.

“I forgot to tel you, Eddie’s here,” I said.

Her eyes got wide.

“You brought a man home last night?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It isn’t what you—”

“That’s great!” she cried.

I closed my eyes.

My mother.

I opened my eyes.

“Mom, it isn’t what you think. It’s a long story, I’l tel you later.”