Hey y'all!
Here are two fun chapters that I've written to add on to the story. Doesn't move the plot too much, but it was exciting for me to write each bits of it.
Don't forget to vote and comment! I am always waiting for someone to write constructive comments so I could improve the story!
Thank you so much!
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Chapter 2.7 The Recovery
I still had trouble walking around on my own, but this stranger, Nate, he even took his time off to take good care of me. He made meals for me, cuddle me to sleep, and even take a shower with me. He must be in a deep, loving relationship with me prior what had happened.
I still don't get it though.
"Someone wanted you dead, Tim. And I'm going to find out who did it," he hammered his fist on the table. The salt and pepper shakers jumped in fear.
I reached to straighten the shakers, "Why would anyone want me dead? What did I do before? Was I a bad businessman before? Or a corrupted accountant?"
Nate would stop talking every time I questioned my occupation. I could still detect that he's been lying a lot to me since my release from the hospital. And this Damon, if he's my brother, why hasn't he visited me?
I wheeled myself into the bedroom to fold Nate's laundry while he cooked dinner. He was whistling, but I couldn't figure what song it was. I straightened the bedsheets when I finished folding and placed everything neatly in the closet.
I looked out the room, to make sure Nate wasn't around. He'll be really mad if I try this again.
I used all my strength to push myself off the wheelchair and leaned against the mattress. My forearms were in massive pain with all the cuts and bruises, but it didn't matter. I wanted to walk again. My legs were numb by this point as I straightened them to the floor. Balancing myself was as hard as balancing an egg on top of my head.
Finally, with a lot of confidence, I pushed myself away from the bed frame. I looked forward to see that Nate had just set our dining table, and when he turned around, his happy face transformed into a frightened one. I smiled at him because I stood for a second or two, and then fell to the mirrored closet doors. Nate threw his spatula at the table and rushed in to help me up.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You really want to break another bone, don't you?"
I waved him off, laughing.
"You think this is funny, Tim?" he stared into my eyes with pure anger.
I bit my bottom lip, a bit upset because he's upset.
He saw the fear in my eyes, but he kept his eye contact with me.
"Sorry," I whispered, barely audible. I looked away from him, and soullessly fixed my eyes on the wheelchair.
He set me back on the wheelchair and kneeled before me, holding my hands.
"Tim Tim," he kissed my hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."
I shook my head, trying to keep my tears from falling.
"Tim," he gently held on to my chin. And he leaned in closer, and closer. Our nose touched. Our eyes barely opened. I took a deep breath in, sucking all his sexy body odor as he covered my mouth with his.
I swallowed hard as he passionately pressed his lips against mine. His hands grabbed the side of the wheelchair, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to me.
It ripped my heart when I had to stop and rest, but I kept him only an inch away from my lips.
"Nate, how long have you not made love to me?"
"Four months."
"Do you mind making love to me tonight?"
"I'm afraid so."
I hesitated, not expecting the answer he has given.
"I don't want to hurt you. You're still recovering."
"I wasn't expecting you liking rough sex, Nate," I laughed.
"No... no, Tim. You. Liked rough sex."
"Oh." I was surprised. He chuckled at my innocence.
"I'll consider your suggestion, but right now, you have to eat."
He wheeled me out right in front of my food and he took a seat next to me.
Baked salmon with mashed potatoes with homemade gravy. He watched me as I picked up my fork and took a piece of the fish into my mouth. Mmmm. Delicious.
"I'm glad you liked it. You taught me how to make this, Tim Tim."
"I did? So I'm a great cook?"
"Yes you are," he began to dig in.
He was about to start a conversation when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," Nate stood up, wiped his mouth, and walked to the door.
I turned to see him a little nervous. He looked at me with a grim face, and sighed before opening the door.
The man outside nodded at Nate, and Nate silently invited him in.
"Tim," he looked at me, and then the stranger, "this is your brother... Damon."
The man looked nothing similar to me, and the atmosphere darkened the moment he stepped into the house. This man is not a good man.
"Tim," this brother of mine greeted me. I looked to Nate with concern, but he nodded again.
"Hi," I greeted.
"How... how's your health? Are you feeling better?"
"I'm good. Nate's been taking great care of me. Not to worry."
Damon made a face, and faced Nate again, "I'm sure mother did it. I'm very sure of it. That bitch!"
He turned to me again, but directed his words to Nate, "Mother is on vacation with Kenneth. She knows Tim's still alive. This is the best time to move on. Nate, you have to leave with him."
I was confused as hell, but Nate understood every word.
Damon dragged my wheelchair forcefully to face him, which I almost prompted myself to slap him across his face. But this time, when I finally got to see clearly of his face, I gasped. His left cheek was red and layered, as if someone had took an ignited propane gas and sprayed him with it.
"What... what... ha... happened?" I was on the verge of crying, "Who did this to you?" Wait. How did I know it wasn't an accident? I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
Damon held my hands in his, but he didn't say a word.
"Nate, I want you to explain to me... now! Please... I beg you."
Damon promptly shook his head, "Tim, all you need to know now is that someone is after you. And you need to leave now, with Nate."
"No, Nate, tell me now. Who is this person? Who am I? Was I a spy? Is that why someone wants to kill me?"
"Tim!" Damon shook me violently; I froze in terror and stress.
"Tim, when you remember everything, I don't want you to come find me, because I'll be out of here as well, if I'm lucky. I'm..." he paused, and then suddenly teared up, "I want you to know... I'm sorry for what I have done to you. I love you, and I always will love you. I..."
Nate held a box of tissues next to him; he was crying silently too. I ran my finger down Damon's burnt cheek, feeling every ridge and bumps on his face. I died a little bit when he looked right at me again. His face was gorgeous, even with the injury.
