Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

70. Easier

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"Hold your horses, darlin'," Striker said, sticking an arm out in front of me to block my path. "I'll carry you. Just lemme get these upstairs first."

I sighed in annoyance. "Striker, I can walk. It's just one flight."

He turned his head to look back at me as he reached the top of the staircase, a light breeze blowing the rain into the breezeway and spraying both of us. "Woman, if you think I'm lettin' you climb these stairs, you done gone crazy."

I placed my hands on my hips. "You had no problem with me walking down them."

"I'll let you go downstairs all day long, but goin' up's a different story," he countered, taking the key I handed him and unlocking my apartment door.

We had just returned from my first outing since I was released from the hospital; he and I went to the grocery store down the street in search of ingredients for dinner that night. Striker had run all of the errands himself over the past two weeks, but I had insisted on going with him this time, much to his chagrin. He had argued that the walking and lifting would be far too strenuous for me in my current state, so when he ultimately relented, he let me tag along only under the conditions that I 1) carried absolutely nothing, and 2) didn't bend or reach for anything that wasn't at eye-level.

Poor Striker. Given how little I complied with his rules, I was sure it was like shopping with a wandering toddler for him.

Striker opened the door and stepped through the threshold with the four or five bags of groceries, and while he was inside, I wrapped a hand around the rail and pushed myself up the first step. I felt a small twinge of pain in my stomach from the movement, but nothing worth making a fuss over, so I took another step, and then another. I had just planted my foot on the fifth or sixth step and begun to push myself upward when I heard an irate voice from above:

"What did I tell you?"

I jumped in surprise, my hand loosening from the rail. The steps, still slick from the rain, seemed to slip out from under my feet, and I suddenly felt my body tip backwards.

"Shit! " I heard Striker curse. The breezeway ceiling blurred past my vision as I fell backward down the stairs. A pair of arms hurriedly launched toward me and encircled my frame, holding me tightly to their owner. He rotated to the side, his leg and broad shoulder shielding me when we hit the concrete at the bottom of the stairs.

The impact sent a jolt of stabbing pain through my gut, causing a high-pitched cry to escape my throat. Cold rainwater from the puddle beneath us splashed onto our skin and soaked through our clothes. I could hear Striker's breath rumble in his chest while he held me a moment longer. His hand cupped my cheek and turned my head to look at him, a spark of worry flashing in his glowing eyes as he quickly looked me over.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, looming above me. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. "No," I answered. "I'm — I'm okay."

His features relaxed slightly at my words, and he sighed in relief before fixing me with a stern gaze.

"What the hell were you doin'?" he scolded. "I thought I told you to stay put!"

"I was doing well until you startled me!" I snapped, pushing him off of me and sitting up. "It was just one flight of stairs — and I was almost halfway up! Why can't you just let me do something on my own?"

"Because you're not ready," Striker countered, an edge in his voice. "You shouldn't've even gone out with me today. You think you can do this shit again, but you just can't yet, (Y/N)!"