Rain Check?

~95~

Demi POV

  "One dinner," I tell my mother over the phone Friday morning. "And only because I'm sure Chris has plans for his birthday."  

  Which apparently don't include me. Or at least I don't think they do. He's been pretty quiet the last couple of days, almost stand offish outside of helping me when I can't do for myself.  Leaving the house a bit more than normal, especially when my mother or Conor comes to visit.  

  But, why did I think they might? We are nothing more than friends at this point, and have been since I woke up. I remembered all the thoughts I had that afternoon in the park before the accident. I had decided that I wanted him a part of my life, however that might look, at the very least as a friend. Because, what more could there be via long distance. 

  And now, this. We were around each other every day, all the time as I'd taken up residence in his bedroom. My toiletries now sitting as permanent fixtures in his large bathroom. Even my favorite coffee cup now sits on his shelf amongst ten other random mugs. 

  I haven't let myself see this situation as anything more than him being helpful. It's who he is, his mother having raised him right. But that's not to say I haven't had to fight away the thoughts of this being something more, of leading somewhere that could be bigger than our short lived three months of dating. 

  Domesticity with Chris has almost felt overwhelming. Little moments that seemingly become glimpses into a real life with him.  Seeing him gather up the two dogs for walks. His random breakfasts in bed that he'll bring with rumpled bed head and a smile. The every so often kisses to my forehead when he leaves to run to the store, or the light touch of his finger tips over my cheek when he thinks I've fallen asleep on the couch after a rough therapy session.  

  "Wonderful!" my mother exclaims. "I'll pick you up at five. Wear something nice and pretty."

  I end the call with a roll of my eyes. She must not understand how difficult it is not feel pretty when a chair has all but become an extension of your body. 

  "How's your mom?" Chris asks from the doorway of the room. 

  "Um, she's good. Convinced me to join them for dinner tonight." I see a little excitement behind his eyes at the new information. "I'll probably wait til after therapy and cancel it though. But figured I'd give her a little bit of hope for now."

  "Oh, about that." He takes a couple steps into the bedroom, slipping my socks out of my hand just before I'm about to attempt putting them on myself. He kneels down in front of the chair, gingerly lifting my foot to slide the sock on. 

How much do I wish I could feel his touch right now?

  "Lexi called and left a message. She can't make today. Said for you to just do a couple of your normal exercises and she'd see you Monday." 

  I sigh out of both relief and annoyance. "Crap. I'll have to come up with a better excuse then."

  "Why do you need an excuse at all? Go to dinner with your family. It'll do you good," he tells me before standing.

  That's when it dawns on me. He needs me out of the house. I shake my head back into the reality that surrounds me. Being reminded with force that I'm staying in a Hollywood Heartthrob's home and he'd probably like a bit of action for his birthday. "Of course. What was I thinking." He looks a little confused by my words. "I'll even gather a bag and have her Star and I off at home. I can stay on the couch for a couple of nights."

  I wheel the chair back so I can get around where he stands, heading into the bathroom to grab the essentials that I'll need, waiting on those that still need to get me through the day. 

  "What do you mean, a bag? Why wouldn't you just come back here?" he questions, his brows knitting together. 

  I can feel the bile rising as I realize I'm going to have to say the words. That he wants me to say the words. Maybe I have to do it to make myself realize that the last few weeks have only been out of the goodness of his heart. Maybe he needs me to say it so he knows that I understand that this is only a friendship. 

  I busy myself, opening and sifting drawers, really having nothing in particular I'm looking for. I just need the distraction of keeping my eyes off of him as I say the words. "So you can bring someone home tonight. It's your birthday after all. I don't want to stand in the way of anything more than I already have."

Third Person POV

  "What?" Chris practically laughs.

  Dempsey realizes now that she's going to have to make it more pointed. She decides against slamming the drawer out of frustration, slowly gliding it back in place instead. Angling herself back towards the room she looks him dead in the eye. "I'm sure that something has been going on with you lately. You're leaving more often, staying gone longer at a time. You've met someone and should be able to bring her back here without worrying about your crippled friend running her off." She wheels herself out into the hall. "I would suggest washing the sheets though. So, you may want to go ahead and strip the bed and get that going. I'd offer to help but, ya know. Crippled friend," she points to herself. "Tonight, Mr. Evans, you get lucky again."

  What Chris doesn't see is the strong hold her teeth have on her lower lip, willing herself to keep the tears silent. The thought of him being with someone else rips at the thin thread that's been keeping his space in her heart. Knowing now that pretty soon there won't even be the love of a friend present anymore because she refuses to be a his 'Tara' while he dates another woman. 

  And yet the opposite side of this, that Demi can't see, is the grin that Chris can't keep off of his face. He hangs back, not following her as he decides he'll need to get himself together before joining her in any other room of the house. 

  Because he can't tell her the truth. 

  The truth that he knows could ruin all of this.

  The truth that there is a woman that has turned his life upside down.