Cured [ManxMan]

Chapter Fifteen

For once, Mattie wasn't playing his guitar.

It sat on the floor out of the way, while Mattie sat on his mattress with engineering drawings spread out around him. The only sounds were the shuffling of papers and his occasional hum when he found something he liked or didn't like and marked it.

I missed the quiet sound of the guitar, but Mattie was busy, and I'd made him take enough time away from working. I could occupy myself for a few hours while he got things done.

Though, 'occupy myself' turned out to be staring at the bit of sky I could see through the window and playing with the edge of the blanket across my lap, trying not to think too much about my dream the night before and how good it felt to lay next to Mattie, how calm he made me.

Kiara entered, no longer bothering with even attempting to knock, and went unacknowledged by Mattie, though I offered her a little smile as she approached to check my vitals, as she did at least twice a day.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, scribbling on her clipboard with her attention on the machine next to me.

"Fine," I responded, as I always did. I felt stronger every day, especially now that I was eating regularly, though it was still mostly broth and little bits of bread.

"Well, Dr. Harper has agreed to the surgery, but I think it would be best if we waited a few more days to make sure your body is ready for the extra strain. In the meantime, I'd like to get you to try walking, if you think you're up to it."

If I think I'm up to it? Like I'm some invalid who can't even walk? I may have spent the last four years as a zombie, but I was fully capable of walking, thank you very much. I did not tell her this, though if she'd been looking in my direction, she likely would have read the sentiment on my face.

"Mattie, would you come help?" she directed to the corner. Mattie, who had not acknowledged Kiara since she walked in, or me since I woke an hour before for that matter, set his papers aside and stood. He stretched, and I found my eyes trailing his body, lingering on the sliver of skin revealed between his shirt and pants before he lowered his arms and his shirt fell back into place. My eyes snapped back up to his face, my cheeks heating as I hoped no one noticed where my attention had been.

It seemed at least Mattie hadn't, as he only offered me a smile, smaller and dimmer than the ones in my memories, as he approached. He reached to help me sit up, but I waved him away. I wasn't sure how I'd react to him touching me right now. Would it feel nice, comfortable, as it had in my memories? Or would it make me uncomfortable, knowing how it used to make me feel but not having the same effect anymore? No, it was better to stay away until I could sort through my feelings.

Sitting up was no issue, I'd done that much enough times in the week or so since I woke up from nearly dying and started to recover instead of mostly just trying not to die. Pushing the blankets back, while not a normal occurrence, was also not particularly difficult, nor was swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

I stared down at the floor. This was not a big deal, all I had to do was push off the bed so my feet would be on the ground and stand up. Just stand up. I could do that much, surely.

But when I attempted to do just that, the world spun dangerously, and I lost my balance, tipping precariously forward. If it weren't for Mattie's quick reflexes, I would have gotten very acquainted with the floor. Instead, I found my face pressed against his chest, one of his hands at my waist, and my wrist caught in the other.

I gasped at the sudden proximity—so much for keeping my distance—bringing in a rush of Mattie's scent, familiar and comforting and completely unnerving. My first instinct was to shove him away before I could do something I would regret, get some space where I could think, and Mattie gave me a bit of that space, let me take my weight onto my own legs and put a few inches between us, but he didn't move his hands.