4. Indy

CHAPTER FOUR

Indy

S tevie releases a defeated sigh, "Indy, I'm sorry, babe." She walks over to the steps before taking a seat next to me. "If I called At or Fox, it would've taken them nearly an hour to get here." I nod slowly and try not to cry. I can officially say that my first day back on the day shift has sucked. I'm having a blue day and terrified I'm about to go pink. I'm exhausted, and then Derek hurt my feelings. And now I can't get up the steps. I made it up one step, and my legs gave out. Thankfully, Stevie was there to catch me, even though when she did, she let out a cry that broke my heart. I swear I thought she ruptured something at the scream she let out.

Which leads us to waiting for Derek to show up and help me. Which could not be more awkward, considering earlier. After all, Derek's known for being moody and anti-social. When he yelled at everyone and the mug I got him broke, I felt like it was my fault. I pushed him too hard, which I never meant to do. And now, not only is he being forced to come here to help me get up the stairs, but he has no idea why he has to help me. I never feel embarrassed about asking for help, but this is beyond asking. This is going into that territory of being a burden that I loathe. I don't want to be someone's burden.

The exterior door opens, and I look up from my seat on the steps to see Derek's massive frame taking up the doorway. Seriously, he's taking up the whole thing. It's equal parts impressive and intimidating.

His pretty brown eyes find mine, and I notice how they go from intimidating and alert to almost soft as they land on me.

"Are you alright?" He breathes, looking between us both, and ugh, his voice is swoon-worthy. It's really a shame that he's so closed off. He definitely has panty-dropping potential going on with that sexy voice, and he's just letting it go to waste.

Stevie nods while standing. "I can't carry her up today. I'm just in too much pain," her head lowers. "I'm sorry, Indy." I pat Stevie's leg as she heads up the steps to unlock her door.

"It's okay, Stevie," I force a grin up at her. "You are still my Hercules!" I give her two thumbs up before looking back at Derek. "So, you're probably wondering why we've called you here today," I say in a mock, serious tone, hoping to lighten the mood while twisting my lips to the side. Derek looks from the steps back to me with his thick brow raised.

"Well, since y'all have given me so few clues," he states dryly. "I guess I would have to say you can't walk up the stairs."

"Well, yeah, but you're not going to ask why?"

He shakes his head. "None of my business. Just tell me how to lift you so I don't hurt you." I flinch at the icy chill in his tone but nod, figuring he probably just wants to go home.

"Right, so on your back is usually the easiest for the guys. I just need you to help me stand." He waves his hand, dismissing my statement.

"I didn't ask what would be easiest for me," he states firmly. "I said tell me the best way to carry you without causing you pain." Giving him a weak smile, I twist my fingers together nervously.

"Bridal?" He nods, leaning down to help me stand before lifting me to his chest effortlessly. The motion is so fast it catches me off guard, and I grip his neck tightly, earning the faintest rumble.

"I ain't going to drop you, darlin'. Trust me." Was that a chuckle? From Derek Rowe? It couldn't be. I'm learning a few things as he climbs the stairs with me in his arms. Derek smells like the single hottest, manliest man smell I've ever encountered. It's woodsy and spicy and leathery. It's intoxicating. I have to force myself not to press my face against him and inhale. And when he calls me darlin'? I feel it in my core, and I must fight the urge to throw my panties at him. My sisters in feminism would be so disappointed in me right now. Our proximity forces me out of my panty-throwing haze to notice that Derek is rock solid, like there's nothing on this man I could pinch. I run my hand over his chest and hear his breath stutter.

"Sorry," I mutter sheepishly. "I just needed to know if you were soft." Derek sets me down at the top of the stairs and raises a brow.

"I'm not soft in any sense of the word." He mutters before turning around and walking back down the steps.

"You don't wanna come in for tea or something?" I call down the stairs.

"Absolutely not." He calls back before walking out the door.

"Don't invite him in here!" Stevie hisses. "What if he had said yes?" I shrug as I make my way to the couch that Stevie has already turned into a bed.

"Then I would've made him tea," I state matter-of-factly as I slowly lie down next to her. "Stevie, I don't know how much longer I can do this," I confess softly as Stevie rests her head beside me and interlaces our hands.

"I love you, Indy, and I will carry you up those stairs for as long as I can, but I don't think you can do this much longer, either." I close my eyes and let out a breath. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day.

"Princess Indy!" The young girl, Reegan, gasps when she sees me enter the room. My hair is straight and pinned up in a delicate updo with baby's breath strategically placed throughout, and I'm wearing light, shimmery makeup complete with a pink princess gown. I smile brightly at the frail girl. Reegan is one of the little superheroes staying here at the children's hospital while undergoing chemotherapy.

"Reegan!" I say brightly in my ‘princess' voice. I give her a small curtsy, ignoring the scream my knee gives me. "My friends told me you have to stay here all day, so I wanted to stop by and see you!" Reegan's small, tired face lights up as she looks at her exhausted mom.

"Really? The whole time?" I walk fully into the room while pulling out my shimmery pink face mask from my dress pocket and putting it on before washing my hands.

"But of course! You and I have a full day ahead of us! I've brought so many activities!"

"Indy, wait." A familiar male voice calls as I make my way toward the exit of the hospital. It has been a long but absolutely fantastic day. Reegan and I had a blast. I painted her toes, watched movies, and sang her some of her favorite princess songs while we colored. Then, I let her choose colors and designs for a hat I plan to make for her. As amazing as it all was, I'm exhausted.

I turn to see one of the residents, Liam, jogging up to me. He's a nice enough guy, I guess. He's a little cocky, and the kids don't appreciate being referred to as a patient by him, but he's never been outright mean, that I know of. Working here has its challenges, and we all cope with them differently. Some have difficulty getting too close and personal with the kiddos because of how some of their stories end, so I try not to fault anyone for their personalities or how they choose to cope. I give him a polite smile, even though I want nothing more than to leave. It took everything I had to change out of my outfit and into my clothes to go into Hel's.

"Hey, Liam, what's up?" I look into his green eyes as he runs a hand through his sandy hair.

"I was wondering if you might be interested in grabbing a coffee? I'm about to go to the cafe and could use some good conversation."

I give him a small smile. "Sorry, I need to get to work. But you have my number, right? Text me if you need to talk." I turn and start walking away, not wanting him to continue the conversation. I don't date due to my progressive condition, and even if I did, I wouldn't date someone at this hospital.

Getting my job here was pretty much a favor. The administrator likes me and said I could come in and be with the kids, but if something were to happen with one of the staff, it could jeopardize that and I refuse to do anything that could risk helping these kids.

"I appreciate you doing this," I say softly as Janie stands behind me in the break room, braiding my hair.

"Of course, my love," she smiles softly. I stare into the reflection on the television screen to watch my red-haired friend as she sections my hair. Janie's hands tremble as she expertly twists and combs my long locks. Janie has Essential Tremors, a neurological disorder that causes parts of her body to move uncontrollably. I know when her father died a couple of years ago, the tremors only mildly affected her head; it was mostly just in her hands, but recently, it seems the disorder has progressed some. Her head is constantly moving in tiny little tremors, not that she lets it bother her. Janie's one of the most adaptable people I've ever met. She says she wasn't always like this, that before her dad passed, she hid her disorder like a dirty secret. Now, she doesn't care who knows or what they think.

"If I'm too much, they can go find less." It's her motto, one that she loves to shove on all of us on days we feel too much.

"How are you feeling?" She asks as she moves to start the other braid. I absently play with my blue bracelet, knowing it's about to go pink, and feel an overwhelming sense of sadness over it. When it goes pink, my darkness will get me again. It's been whispering recently, making me wonder what I will lose this time. Forcing away the thought, I put on my best smile as I speak.

"It's been a fun day!" I say brightly. "I hung out with this young girl at the hospital. She's adorable and has a thing for penguins, which is my favorite animal, so obviously, she and I are now bonded for life. I'm going to make her a hat for when she's in chemo, so I'm going to go get the supplies tomorrow, I think."

Janie finishes the braid before coming around to stare at me, her deep blue eyes boring into my light blue ones. Janie's eyes remind me of sapphires from far away, whereas mine look like the more aquamarines. "I asked how you're feeling." She says slowly, and it takes me all of five seconds to flip my mask on and bury the anger, the resentment, the sadness, and the pain. All my darkness. It loves to come and whisper in my ear, but I can't let my friends see me in that light. If they do, I fear they'll never look at me the same again.

"It's a blue day," I state flatly, my voice devoid of any emotion. "And I think it's going to be pink soon." I watch Janie's face fall for a second before she wipes it away. Our group has one rule, we don't pity each other. Our girlfriends are an interesting bunch. We became an unofficial support group for our illnesses and disorders, or extra spices, as we fondly call them. Janie has Essential Tremors; I have Multiple Sclerosis; Stevie has Uterine Fibroids and Endometriosis; my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Sunday, has Epilepsy; and Atlas' wife, Ren, has Type One Diabetes.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" Janie asks, and I shake my head.

"No, but I'm booking a hotel room for now. I can't get up the steps at Stevie's anymore." I whisper as I hear someone walking by the break room.

"Come stay with me or Ren." I roll my eyes.

"I can't! I'm in the same predicament there! You and Ren can't carry me, so I'm trapped unless the guys are home. At a hotel, I can get an accessible room without worrying about stairs or the shower." Janie doesn't seem convinced as she stares at me for another moment but decides not to press further. Janie takes her leave, and I tell her I'll be out in a minute. Once alone, I take another deep breath before my phone dings. I look down and smile softly at my big brother's text.

Ash: Hey Indy

Me: Hey, how is Alabama? I miss you guys.

Ash: Alabama is…

Ash: Let's just say I'm ready to come home. How are you?

Me: I had a fun princess day!

Ash: Send me a pic.

I groan, knowing precisely what he wants a picture of.

Me: Blue

Me: It's fine, I'm handling it.

Ash texts me again, but I ignore the message. I know it will be something like I need to move, take it easy, or sit at home and not move because I'm fragile. It's such crap. I have to live with this disease forever, and I refuse to let it rule me. I'm not delusional. I know that positive thinking won't heal me. But neither will being angry and bitter or sitting at home. I have my days when the pain is too much, and I have my days when my dark thoughts scream too loudly to ignore. I am only human, but that doesn't mean I can allow myself to stay there indefinitely. I have learned over the years to neither fight nor fear my disease. Instead, I've learned to live with it. I listen when my body says it's time to rest or when my mind says, "No, Indy, we really need a five-minute cry."

"Oh, sorry." Derek's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I give him a small smile.

"No worries, it's a public area. Besides, I'm about to get up and go back to work." I go to stand, but the rapid onset of pain in my torso stops me. Crap. Not now. Stay calm Indy.

"You don't have to leave because of me," Derek says as he opens the door to the fridge and pulls out a water bottle. I seize the moment to muster up the strength and stand, once I do, I hold still for a moment, gripping the back of the chair while trying to allow my body to calm down, but it's no use as the tightness rips the air from my lungs.

"Ah," I cry out while gripping the chair tighter, feeling the spasming around my abdomen. Derek looks at me, his eyes wide with concern.

"Indy? What's wrong?" He steps forward, and I wave him off with my hand.

"I'm fine," I gasp as I whimper again while forcing a smile as another jolt hits me. "I-I just gotta lay down." Moving to the couch, I growl out in pain as I ease myself down, only to feel it squeeze again, causing me to roll over into the fetal position.

Derek kneels in front of me and looks me in the eye. "How can I help?" His voice is the softest I've ever heard from him, and it makes me want to cry.

"Well," I pant as I grip my side. "If you can… apply firm pressure here." I point to the spot on my lower abdomen where the pain is the worst. Derek looks more than unsure about touching me, and I'm about to tell him to get Janie or Stevie when he lifts my shirt slightly. I feel the firm pressure of his palm press in precisely the right area.

"Oh fuck," I moan as I feel the temporary relief. It's perfect and gives me enough of a moment to get in a cleansing breath.

"Am I doing it right?" He asks, still completely unsure of himself as he rubs over the spot again, pressing with his thumb.

"Yes," I whisper as I take another breath. This is precisely my luck. The hottest guy in the universe is finally close to me, touching me. And it's because I'm having what the MS community has so sweetly named the MS Hug. Basically, it's an awful pain or pressure, and it can happen anywhere from your chest to your lower abdomen. Mine being on the right side of my belly button.

"Should I call an ambulance?" He asks, and I feel another jolt. I grip his arm as I try to breathe while he continues to massage me.

"No," I grit out. "I'll call my nurse when I can breathe again." This MS Hug tells me I'm heading for a relapse. I need to call my doctor's office and tell them so they can start me on some medication to try and minimize how bad the relapse will be. "Ow, darn it!" I cry out, hitting the couch in frustration.

"Hey, can you look at me?" Derek's voice pulls me from my impending sob fest. My eyes meet his, and he gives me a slight smirk that would have butterflies in my tummy if not for this damn hug. "Alright darlin', you getting all frustrated ain't going to make your breathing any easier. Blow out when I press down," I follow his instructions, breathing in and out like I've been taught. After another moment, I can feel the hug lessening, and I'm grateful this is a short episode.

"God," I whine as he continues to press and rub. "You keep this up, and I'm taking you back to my hotel to have you on call," I joke, noting how fast his cheeks flare up.

"Hotel?" He repeats. "Did Stevie kick you out?" I shake my head.

"No," I breathe. "Too many steps. I have," I wince again as I breathe through the lingering pain, "Multiple Sclerosis." His hand twitches.

"Will you ever be able to do steps again?" Wow, this isn't very comfortable. I give him a weak smile and a small shrug.

"Maybe? I try not to think about things I can't control." I place my hand over his, and I hear his breath catch. "Thank you." Derek pulls away so fast you would've thought I had set his hand on fire.

"Sure," he mutters while standing up. "You should get someone to take you home or to your hotel." He stumbles over the coffee table as he backs up. "Fucking hell," he grumbles while his face goes a deeper shade of red, and I swear to god it's the best moment of my life. I watch him walk out of the room, and I let out a sigh as I slowly trace where his massive hand had been rubbing me. I can still feel the heat of his touch like he's branded me. If I'm being honest, I hope it never leaves.