It Goes On - Book l

Johnny the Nursemaid

Simon's Point of View:

I sat at home, hating my life as I was still forced to stay in bed. It hasn't even been a full week yet, and I was ready to pull my hair out. The weather had cleared and today was quite warm compared to the last few weeks, and I hated even more that I couldn't enjoy it because of my fucking injuries. Kiera had gone out into town with her mum, taking the twins with her to leave me without any sudden responsibilities due to my immobility.

Although I shouldn't be walking around, it didn't count if Kiera wasn't here to stop me.

And fuck did it feel good to walk around after being in bed for four days. I hobbled down the stairs, my stomach grumbling when my eyes landed on the cookies Kiera had made for me and Baler when she had extra ingredients, and I was eager to finish them off.

I couldn't wait to get back into my workout routine, my muscles aching to lift weights and do cardio. I knew I gained a few pounds because my lower stomach was getting "fluffy."

Absolutely not.

I ended up eating the leftover grilled chicken from last night's dinner, chugging down a bottle of water as I was more thirsty than I had thought. My fists balled when I heard an unrecognizable shuffle coming from the living room, ready to protect my family's home. "What're you doing up, L.T.? Without your crutches?" He scoffed at me, arching his brow as if he caught my hand in the cookie jar.

"Fuck off, Johnny," I rolled my eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"Your lovely wife asked me to keep my eye on you while she was gone."

"Well, that's nice of you," I scoffed sarcastically. "but I'm not a fucking child. I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"See, I was hoping you'd say that," He snickered. "Kiera and I both knew that you were going to try and walk around without your crutches, and now that I see you don't have on your brace and your sling, you, sir, are in big trouble."

"Here," I scoffed, sliding over the business card from the physical therapist that I was contemplating on throwing away, too stubborn to want help from some doctor telling me what I already knew. "Call this number and ask for someone who gives a fuck."

Johnny laughed at my attitude, and I didn't know if I should laugh too or be offended.

"She told me that you'd be hateful. Sounds like you haven't had your medicine all day."

"Why are you even talking to her?"

"I didn't. She was talking to Teeter and then I overheard, so I offered to keep an eye on you when she was in town." He explained.

"Why am I not surprised that you were eavesdropping?" I grumbled. "I don't need someone watching out for me—"

"Sure looks like it. You're not supposed to be walking – let alone without crutches."

"Johnny, I'm fine. Just leave me here in peace."

"No can do, L.T. I'm a man of my word, and I promised that I'd make sure you didn't fall down the stairs."

"Don't you have your own responsibilities to worry about? You know, a kid and a fiancé that's healing from having your baby?"

"First of all, attitude," He warned with a playful arch of his brow. "Second of all, they're sleeping. Little man sleeps like a rock, but no need to worry, I've got this handy-dandy little monitor to let me know when he wakes up." He explained, showing me the baby monitor that was hooked to his belt.

"Aren't you a multitasker." I scoffed at him, ignoring the intense pain in my knee. I couldn't give in and admit that I needed to sit down, nor was I going to admit that my collarbone felt like it had gotten worse – my pride wouldn't take it, and neither would my ego.