7. Derek

CHAPTER SEVEN

Derek

" Y ou're kidding." Indy stares at me in shock before looking back at the bed that cost more than my first fucking truck. "You have to be kidding."

"Oh sure, I paid and had the bed delivered and set up because I was looking to get a little chuckle out of you." Rolling my eyes, I watch as Indy makes her way over to her new adjustable bed. She sits on it, and you would think I gave her a pile of garbage to lie on by the look on her face.

"Why did you buy this for me?" Indy asks, her cheeks glowing pink. What the fuck? This is a nice bed. She didn't complain once about the air mattress the last two nights, but she's going to bitch about this?

Scoffing, I shake my head. "You needed a bed, so I bought you one."

"You bought me a hospital bed." She snaps, though even angry, her voice is soft. "I don't need a hospital bed. I don't need that shower chair. I know it is in the box that was delivered this morning. Stop buying me stuff that––"

"That what?" I interrupt, annoyed I'm having to have this fucking conversation with her. The shower chair was not something I knew about. That was from Janie.

"That makes me a freaking burden!" This time, when she snaps, it almost takes me aback. "You said you wouldn't be my doctor or brother and here you are, being worse than the two of them combined! This is so embarrassing. Do you know what it's like kn–"

"Little darlin'," I chuckle. "I think you're under the wrong impression. The chair is from Janie. If you have an issue, take it up with her. All I did was carry it in for you. The bed? Yeah, I bought that bed, but it's not because I was trying to be a dick or embarrass you. It sits up. You don't have a couch in here and I figured if you'd want to watch TV or something. Or you might not want to lie down all the time." Her cheeks flame as her brows furrow together, and she bites on her thumbnail.

"Oh," her voice is small. She looks so fucking innocent and sweet, and… fucking hell, I'm sure I've met my quota for talking with her today. I need to get away before I do something stupid.

"I'm gonna make dinner; you want some?" Yeah, like that, you fucking moron.

"Really?" Fuck, the hopeful smile on her face. Jesus Christ.

"Yeah, I'll have it done in twenty. Just take what you want. I'll eat on the futon, so you eat wherever." She deflates, and goddamn it.

"Oh, I'm alright." Her smile is polite and sweet, but her dimples are missing.

"Are you… sure? I feel like this is a trap." This is precisely why I don't do friends, closeness, relationships, none of it. I'm too goddamn old to be trying to figure out if she's playing one of those games like my ex-wife would, where she says one thing and then gets pissed off because I believed her.

"Yeah," she laughs lightly. "I mean, I would've enjoyed some company, but honestly, whatever you're cooking smells terrible, and I'd rather order a pizza."

"I don't do company or delivery," I mutter, wondering if I can deduct these added minutes talking with her from tomorrow. I really need a break.

"I'm aware of both. Just thought I'd shoot my shot. Anyway, I'll order some food for myself. Have a good night, Derek." Indy scoots back on her bed, and I nod, backing away and shutting the door. I get about three steps down the hall when I hear her singing to some pop song about buying herself flowers and cringe.

I wonder if I could stay at a hotel.