"Sure," she says, looking at Holly but grabbing my hand. Holly leaves, and with one hand, she scoops up the empty pudding cups and spoons. "Do you mind watching a movie?"

"Of course not." Of course, I'd rather be alone with her, but I have a feeling I know where that would lead, and I don't want our first time to be in a house filled with people.

"Really?" Mick says when the movie t.i.tle pops on the screen. "Valentine's Day?"

"I don't know," Holly says. "What else we gonna watch? I think we've watched everything else on Netflix."

"How 'bout a horror flick?" Griffin suggests.

"Like what?" Holly asks, the remote pointed at the screen.

"How 'bout an old one?" Cali suggests. "Carrie or Psycho?"

"Oooh...Psycho sounds good," Mick says.

"Everybody? Psycho?"

"Sure."

"Yeah."

"Why not."

Since everyone is in agreement, though I don't really think Rose is, since I remember she doesn't like horror movies, Holly puts on Psycho, Griffin turns off the lights, and I don't give a s.h.i.t what the others are doing, because Rose is cuddled close next to me, half on my lap, as we share the over-sized yet single recliner.

My left hand finds a comfortable spot right outside Rose's thigh, while my right arm holds her easily around her waist. I don't watch the movie much. Instead, I lean my head against hers and concentrate on the sweet scent of maple sugar as she breathes steadily so close to me. When Psycho finishes, Holly puts on Carrie, and by the end of it, Rose is asleep on my shoulder. The others quietly leave the room, and I hear their footsteps up the stairs. We're already reclined, but I push back on the chair until it's as far back as it can go, and I snuggle into Rose. There is no way I'm waking her up just to leave and go home. That'd be like leaving Heaven to go to h.e.l.l. I don't want to be alone, and I definitely don't want to unwrap my arms from the maple sugar angel they're holding right now.

Sometime during the night, I doze off along with Rose, and the next thing I know, soft gray light is peeking in through the blinds. Rose shifted slightly through the night, because her cheek is now resting against my chest, and the top of her head rests right beneath my chin. I'm glad this chair reclines back so far, because if it didn't, she may have woken up, and I would have had to leave. Instead, I got to spend the night holding the best thing that ever happened to me.

I try not to move to allow her to sleep some more, but I really have to take a p.i.s.s, so it's hard to stay still. A few minutes later, I feel her breathing change anyway.

Her palm presses against my stomach, and she slowly lifts her head. "Oh my gosh, Ben." She looks toward the front windows then sits up straight, bringing the back of the recliner, and me, up with her. "Holy cow, did we sleep all night?"

"Yes we did, sweetheart," I say with a rasp.

"Oh my G.o.d, I'm so sorry." She sits up further. "You could have woken me up. I feel so bad you had to sleep in this chair all night." She's looking at me, waiting for my response.

I just stare at her. She's so G.o.dd.a.m.n beautiful.

"What? I am sorry."

"For what? There's no place else I would have rather spent the night." Even a bed wouldn't have been as perfect. One step at a time.

"Really?" She smiles, then shoots a hand to her mouth. "Oh my G.o.d, my breath."

I remove her hand. "Still as sweet as sugar, half-pint."

I'm treated to a light whack on the arm.

She wiggles out of the chair and rubs her leg. "You can go get a cup of coffee if you want, I have to go put cream on my leg and brush my teeth."

"Don't worry about your breath, Rose. But...should I have not let you sleep? Are you not supposed to have your prosthetic on all night?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "Not really. It'll be all right though. I'll be right back."

"Okay, but first, where's the bathroom?"

"Oh. Right off the kitchen, to the left."

I'm about three steps into the kitchen when I hear a yelp and two thuds. "Oh my G.o.d," I yell, running back toward the steps. "Holy s.h.i.t. Rose."

She's lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

39.

ROSE.

Really?

As if I'm not already mortified by my morning breath and the fact that I have to lubricate my...knee - I'm not yet ready to call it that ugly S word - but I have to go and fall backwards down the stairs and land on the floor. On my back. For Ben to find me. Oh my G.o.d. Why? Why can't I just live with a little dignity from time to time?

"Rose, are you okay?" He bends down to help me up.

Getting up onto my elbows as quickly as I can, I tell him, "I'm fine."

He scoops me up and I'm suddenly cradled in his arms like a baby.

"Really, Ben. I'm fine. You can put me down."

"Just tell me where to go." He begins carrying me up the stairs.

I feel so foolish. "Ben."

"Rose. Stop." At the top of the stairs, he whispers, "Where to?"

But it doesn't matter that he whispers, because Griffin and Cali just round the corner to see what the "Ruckus was," Griffin says.

Then Holly appears.

I bury my head in the crook of Ben's neck. And groan.

"Rose, what happened?" Holly exclaims.

"She took a tumble," Ben says, making no big deal, for my sake most likely.

"Oh, Rose." She rubs my shoulder. "You okay?"

"Ben, put me down, please," I murmur into his neck.

He does.

"I'm fine." I fake a smile and go to my room, third door to the left.

"I'm sorry if I embarra.s.sed you," Ben says when we're alone.

"You didn't embarra.s.s me. I embarra.s.s myself." I carefully sit at the edge of the top of my bed where I keep all my lotions for my leg.

I take off my Converse hi-tops, cringe at the pain in my lower back, and begin rolling up my leggings in front of Ben...again. Only now, he's see my leg without the contraption. I stop for a moment and look at him.

"Would you like me to leave?"

I think about this for a second.

"I never did get to take a p.i.s.s yet. How 'bout I do that...I'll be back."

He turns to leave. "Ben."

"Yeah?"

"There's a bathroom right here." I point to the door in front of me. "When you come out, I don't mind you seeing."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Be right back."

While he's in the bathroom, I unlatch my leg, take it out of the socket, pull off my sock, and ma.s.sage it. It feels so good out in the open right now. I slide back against the headboard and pick up the tube of lotion. Then I grimace at the pain in my bottom from sitting this way.

Ben walks out as I'm about to squeeze the cream into my hand.

I hesitate just a second, but he sits down in front of me and holds out his hand. "May I?"

I look at him and he's staring into my eyes. I hand him the tube without saying another word.

He squeezes the lotion into his hands and rubs them together. I watch as he continues looking at my face when his fingers first make contact with my skin. It's an odd sensation - his hand on my limb. The way he gently ma.s.sages the cream into my skin almost feels sensual and not at all like the unpleasant sensation when I dutifully rub it on every night, trying my darndest not to look at the thing.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks quietly, looking up from my leg.

"No," I say, looking into his eyes.

"Is it feeling any better?"

I nod, still gazing into his brown eyes. "Much."

The cream is all rubbed in when he starts to ma.s.sage my thigh. "You took some fall down there. Are you hurting from that?"

I know I'm turning red, because my cheeks feel warm and I'm suppressing a smile, but I tell him anyway. "My b.u.t.t hurts quite a bit."

His lopsided grin and raised brow make my insides tingle. "I'll be happy to rub lotion there too."

I can't believe myself, but I want to say, "Please." Instead, I tell him, "I'll be fine."

"Seriously though, is there ice in the freezer? You should probably ice it."

I nod. "Yeah. You're right."

He rubs my limb again, then stands. "I'll be right back."

"No. Ben. It can wait."

"I'll be right back," he insists before walking out my bedroom door.

Resting back against the headboard, I close my eyes and think about Ben. I can't believe I've fallen so hard for him. Even more so, I can't believe how comfortable I feel with him. He saw my...thing...and he didn't cringe. Didn't even blink twice. And he wasn't too grossed out to touch it. Oh my G.o.d, at this moment, I don't think I could feel any happier.

Ben walks in with two mugs of coffee in his hands and an ice pack under his armpit. "Figured you'd want a cup," he says, sitting the mugs down on my nightstand. "Scooch up so I can put the ice on your back."

"Actually, I should probably go to the bathroom myself first."

He takes my hand and helps me stand. "You okay on your own, or does your back hurt too much?"

I like how he made it about my back and not that at the moment I'm one-legged. I reach for my crutches next to the nightstand - I still haven't perfected the hopping on one leg thing. Spinning yes. Hopping no. "I got these. I'm good."

He nods. "I'll be waiting."

After I pee, I finally brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair. Then I wash my face quickly, because it feels so sc.u.mmy. But when I get a look at myself in the mirror, I see my scar. Do I cover it back up, or trust that Ben won't go running because he's seen too much of the real me today? It takes me a moment to think about it, but I decide that Ben meant what he'd said - I don't have to hide myself from him.

Slowly, I open the door. My chest is pounding a little harder, a little faster, and my stomach turns a bit. But one crutched step at a time, I walk out into my room.

The first thing I notice is Ben's eyes. They're smiling. "My G.o.d, Rose. You're beautiful."

Naturally, my hand flies to my cheek.

"Don't," he stands. "Don't cover it." He again removes my hand from my face. "I forgot you had freckles." He cups his right hand around my waist.

Freckles. All this worrying about my scar, I'd forgotten to worry about my freckles. Not that I'd ever cared before, but since I started covering my scar and needed to wear foundation, I forgot that all this time my freckles were hidden too.

"I love them. They suit you." He takes the crutches and leans them against the nightstand, all the while keeping his hold on my waist. "Now you really look like half-pint," he says, lifting me up and laying me on the bed.

"That's not a compliment," I joke.