To Learn to Let Go | ✔

Chapter 3

Trent had pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the truck, meeting me at the passenger side to open the door for me. "Can I help?" Trent asked and held out his hand. I took a deep breath in and braced myself for the inevitable panic that would happen when we touched. Trent grabbed my arm and my waist and lifted me up with such ease. The smell of cigarettes and sandalwood filled my senses as he helped me into the truck. I instantly put my good foot on the step and slid onto the seat as soon as I was close enough to. Trent just stayed there, with my hand still in his boring holes into my hazel eyes.

"Please l-let go!" I shouted, gasping for breath. He jumped as if I startled him and instantly let go, closing the door and then making his way back into the driver's seat. I stuttered out directions of how to get to my house and Trent struggled to follow. When we arrived, he parked in the driveway and jumped out, rushing over to the passenger side to help me out of the truck. I refused and pushed myself out of the seat, landing solely on my good foot and gently placing my right foot on the ground. I then limped up to the front door and unlocked it, I was about to shut it behind me when I heard footsteps running after me.

"Grayson, wait!"

"What?"

"You're not even going to say thank you?" Trent asked, a hurt look on his face.

"Thanks," I said and then went to shut the door again, but Trent put his hand out and stopped it. "Wh-what?"

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Um, sure." I stepped, well limped, aside so that Trent could enter my house. I hobbled over to the kitchen and sat down at the island. I put my right foot up on the stool next to me and carefully removed my shoe and rolled up my jeans. My ankle was already swelling.

"Mind if I take a look?" I jumped, having forgotten that Trent was there. I shook my head no and began to try to roll the cuff of my jeans back down.

"Please my mom is, was, a nurse. I might be able to help." I reluctantly rolled the pant leg back up and let him come over to take a look. He tried to touch me as little as possible, which I appreciated. "It doesn't look broken, plus you've been walking on it. I think it's just a sprain. Do you have like, an ace bandage or something?"

"Um, upstairs h-hall closet," I stuttered. Trent disappeared up the stairs to get the bandage and I tried to process what was happening right now. Trent was in my house, he was bandaging my sprained ankle, and I was having like five panic attacks at once from all of the proximity, physical contact, and socializing I was doing. I tried to focus on calming my breathing while I waited for Trent to come back. It kind of worked, I at least wasn't hyperventilating, but my heart was still racing and my breaths were short.

"Okay, this may be kind of painful, but I promise it'll help," Trent said and then showed me how to properly wrap my ankle. "Now you're going to have to take this off to shower, but if you just keep it wrapped just like that as much as possible it'll be better in no time."

"Thanks T-Trent," I smiled. He smiled back and for the first time I noticed her had a dimple, just one, on his left cheek.

"Anytime kid. Hey, go sit on the couch and I'll bring you some ice, okay?" I nodded and did as I was asked. Trent wrapped up some ice in a towel and gently placed it on my ankle that I had resting against the coffee table in my living room. "Kyle did this to you, didn't he?"

"N-no I tripped," I tried to lie.

"That's bullshit and you know it," he said through barred teeth. His intensity startled me, and I just nodded, confirming his suspicion. "I'm going to break both his fucking legs," he snarled.