It Goes On - Book l

Stubborn

Simon's Point of View:

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you win in Mario Kart," I grumbled at her, gripping the controller firmly in my hands. "Now fuck off." My words were in no way intentional, but playful, and Kiera knew that. She laughed as she tilted the controller in her hands, sitting Indian-style on our bed as the television was at the foot of our bed. We already had a television in the room above the fireplace, but yet there was another one that was built into the footboard of the bed. You can hit a remote button and the bastard just rises up. Kiera had told me that it was something her father made because he liked to watch football in bed on late nights, so I grew to use it to my advantage since I was injured, and I was limited on mobility for a couple of weeks.

I had gotten the worst of the impact from the wreck, dislocating my knee and fracturing my collarbone, but I welcomed that pain as a reminder that I would have rather it have been me than my wife or children. Kiera needed a few stitches, and was fine after her examination, and the baby inside of her was definitely okay. Thank God. Both of my twins were unscathed, just scared. Baler was the same, except he had a few scratches from the glass. A few days after the crash, I later found out that the driver of the truck was a rookie, his first haul being a load of cattle from the neighboring ranch. The bastard ran off out of fear instead of being a man and letting me bash his head in for not knowing how to fucking drive and leaving the load of cattle bound for the stockyard.

"Don't be such a sore loser, babe!" She giggled, clearly beating me at a game I was teasing her about.

"I'm not," I grumbled, knowing she was right. "You're not winning this time. The first was just a warm-up."

"Yeah, okay!" She scoffed. "You're too grumpy to admit that you're just a sore loser."

"It takes me a bit to warm up, love. I don't play video games often."

"Says the one who obliterates Baler in a game of Halo," She arched her brow at me. "Don't be jealous that you have some actual competition now."

In truth, I could have ruined her excitement right then and there by easily beating her at this simple game, but I let her constantly win because I saw a glimpse of child-like excitement that I hadn't seen in quite some time. I could care less about winning this game as all I cared about was seeing her happy. She always seemed happy, but she had a well-deserved break from reality. As a couple, it was rare that we got to spend some alone-time (aside from intimacy) to just delve into our younger selves. As much as I hated being too injured to get up, I sincerely enjoyed this, and I wasn't going to cut it short by being too competitive with her and beating her at a silly game.

We ended up playing for nearly two hours, taking different breaks throughout as our twins were playing around in our room, Kiera making a bigger and makeshift playpen to keep them away from the fireplace and pieces of furniture that had corners.

I was ordered to stay on bed rest for at least a full week and minor labor for two weeks after, I had to wear a brace on my left knee and the worst of all was that I had to wear a sling to prevent shoulder movement. I fucking hated it, and I think Kiera picked up on my hateful attitude about it because I managed to get overwhelmed rather quickly, especially frustrated. I was also prescribed painkillers, but I refused to take them in fear of relying on them.

For those who may not know, I was formerly addicted to drugs. Not like meth or anything, but I enjoyed cocaine every now and then – perhaps too much as now, an ounce is too much. I grew reliant on painkillers and most over-the-counter drugs. When I eventually became sober and got my head right, finally going back into the military and becoming what I am now.