Chapter 9: Three Steps

Hannah emailed the photographs to the detective at one in the morning.

He answered in four minutes.

*Got them. Don't go back there.*

We sat in her apartment with the lamp on and the answer glowing between us.

She hadn't said a word about the cage since the car.

I stood up from the couch.

I hadn't planned to.

I had left my cane leaning on the armrest and my brace on the floor, and I started across her living room.

One step, then two.

On the third my knee shook and held.

I stopped in front of her chair, upright, with nothing in my hands.

"Three steps," Hannah said, and her voice was not steady. "You're not supposed to do that for another week."

"I'm not tired. It's a four."

"Liar." She stood up and put her palm flat on my chest. "Say it."

"It's a seven."

"Thank you."

"You said it was adrenaline."

"I did."

"I've been standing here for a minute and I'm out of it."

She looked up at me, and her mouth tilted.

"So am I," she said.

I kissed her, and she grabbed my shirt with both hands.

She walked me backwards into the bedroom with her mouth on mine, and I hit the edge of the mattress and sat down hard.

"Careful," she said.

"I'm fine."

"I'm the doctor. Lie back."

I lay back.

She stood over me and undid the zipper on her black dress, and it slid down her hips and stayed on the floor.

She wore a white bra and white underwear.

I had seen that body only in a cardigan and scrubs, and I stared at the curve of her hip.

"Tell me what you want," she said.

"You. All of it."

She pulled my shirt over my head.

She undid my belt, and my zipper, and drew my jeans down carefully over the long scar on my thigh.

Keep reading free with an account. Start She Left Me in Traction, Then the Will Made Me Her Boss from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.