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Chapter 14

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello to my little honey bunches of oats! :p

Follow me on Twitter. I follow back. Duh. :p

TWITTER: @lovethedinklage

dedicated to Anime_Luver1321
for simply being awesome xoxo

*****

Then I wondered. Did Harry know I was going to be his caretaker? Would he even remember me? After all, he hadn't texted me since. He obviously had other priorities due to the accident, but he was laying in a hospital bed, it wasn't like he was busy. He was probably emotional and concerned about his future. Yes, he definitely had more important things to think about.

Maybe it would be best if he didn't remember me. Then I'd be a stranger, he wouldn't care if I had to look at his private parts, and I wouldn't be embarrassed. Maybe not remembering would be the best for both of us.

*****

I had contacted Mr. Twist to get Harry's university schedule and emailed all the professors so I could gather anything he might need for his courses.

Kate was as stunned as I was when I told her what happened to Harry and that I was going to be one of his caretakers. The whole thing was unfuckingbelievable.

Being aware of Harry's situation led to discussion regarding Paige and Niall's absences from literature class. I promised Kate that if Harry was awake and things went smoothly, I'd ask about Niall.

After some back and forth over my wardrobe choice for the first day at Harry's, I chose a blue bandana patterned scrub top, some badass Vans that were the same awesome pattern, and solid colored pants so I wasn't overwhelming. I pulled my willy-nilly hair into pigtails to add a little Catholic-school sexy.

Kate was a little reluctant to let me take the car since I was starting on a Friday night, but I wanted to make damn sure I had a way out of there in case Harry freaked out. I guess Mr. Twist was having me start on a Friday so Harry and I could "meet" before I was there on a daily basis? He didn't know we'd already met, and since I didn't know if Harry would remember me or not, I didn't feel any need to tell him yet. Or maybe ever.

I arrive at Harry's 10 minutes early and park in the circular drive, gather Harry's coursework, and soon I'm ringing the bell. An older woman with a friendly smile answers, introduces herself as the new housekeeper, and I learn that it's her first day as well.

She tells me that Mr. Twist hasn't yet returned from his business trip, but that Liam is here with Harry and he'll be able to tell me what I need to know.

She shows me to the downstairs hallway where Harry's room has been moved for now. "Second door on the left, dear. Just go on in," she smiles.

"Thank you, Mrs. Daniels."

"Please, call me Julie," she insists. "Let me know if there is anything you need, and what you and Harry will be wanting for dinner."

"Thank you so much, Julie. I appreciate that." I smile and nod.

Julie rushes off to her duties, leaving me a mere two feet from Harry's door, which is slightly ajar. I hear voices inside that must be Harry and Liam. He's awake. Oh my God. I step closer to the door to eavesdrop for a moment while I get up my gumption to go inside. Will he remember me? Will he be glad to see me? The alternative options terrify me.

I hold my breath and listen, hearing Harry's voice. "The night nurse is a girl?"

Then, Liam, "Yeah. She was kinda cute too. She referred to herself as the Patient Whisperer."

Fuck my life.

Harry groans, "No shit, mate?" He chuckles, and then, "Man, the night of the accident, there was this girl..."

Fuck my life even more.

It was now or never. I push the door open further, and peep in, "Hey guys, how's everybody doing?"

"Hello, Sherry! This is..." Liam begins, as Harry's mouth drops open and stays open. Liam continues to talk, but his voice becomes droning background noise as my vision zooms in on Harry. There is only his confused face; everything else just fades away.

"Hi, Harry," I greet him, walking over to his bedside. "How are you feeling today?"

"Are you fucking serious? What is this shit?" Harry looks at me, to Liam, and back again

I think I have made a terrible mistake.

A clueless Liam chimes in with, "I told you she was cute, mate."

Just when I think Harry's jaw is going to unhinge from being so far open, it opens further, eyes darting back and forth between Liam and I as he tries to make sense of the situation.

"There is no way, man..." Harry begins.

"Wait, do you guys -" Liam begins to pull things together.

"Umm...." I stammer, "Liam, can I maybe talk to Harry privately for a bit?"

Silence.

"Please?"

Harry's face is a strange combination of bewilderment and devastation. I do not like this at all.

Liam looks between us and takes Harry's silence as permission. "Okay. Harry, I will be just down the hall, mate."

Harry gives a reluctant nod. As Liam exits, I realize I'm still carrying my bag, as well as Harry's coursework. I place everything on the nearby dresser, then grab a chair and drag it over to Harry's bedside. I sit.

I look at Harry. Beautiful, confused, somewhat angry Harry. I wonder what to say, what to do. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, and I should let his stepdad hire someone else.

I notice Harry is wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt. He is fiddling with his blanket, which lied at his waistline, but now he was pulling it up to his chest.

"Are you cold? Can I get you -"

"No, I'm not cold. I'm fucking naked under here." His voice is clipped. Pissed.

Oh.

"I guess this explains why you didn't text me back," I offer a smile and a hesitant laugh as I try to break this situation down into something more manageable using comic relief.

Harry's head is still, but his eyes dart my direction and I'm blessed by his green-eyed gaze. A gaze that doesn't contain any of the sparkle it did the last time I saw it.

"Sorry to disappoint. I've been a little under the weather." Sarcasm. That's good, could be plenty worse.

"You could never disappoint, Harry," I smile genuinely.

He looks at me and holds my gaze a moment before a bleakness washes over him. "You can't stay here, Sherry. I can't..."

"Harry, I didn't know it was you. I swear. I wondered why you weren't in class, where you were. Your stepdad placed an ad that said I'd be caring for an elderly person."

"He did what?" He half grinned.

"He said he was concerned about gold diggers or something or other. It's sweet how protective he is of you."

"Yeah, he is a good guy." Harry pauses, and mutters, "Gold diggers...," with a shake of his head.

"I know this situation isn't ideal, Harry. I really do. Do you think we could try it out for a couple of days at least? Like a trial basis?"

"You don't understand. I can't walk. I might never walk. And even more humiliating, my arm is broken so I can't even take care of, um - bathroom needs independently."

I sit and look at his curls falling on the pillow, his sad green eyes, and his somewhat nervous hands. The hand on his good arm fiddles with his hair, the blanket, his other hand. At least he's calmer now.

He exhales, somewhat broken. "I like you, Sherry. I was going to ask you out. I don't want you here to see all my broken parts."

He was breaking my heart. Even more upsetting was the notion that if I were to leave, another nurse would get hired. A stranger would come in, bring his dinner, help him change his t-shirt, and shampoo that beautiful hair. I'd be a distant memory. A memory that needed to find a new job as well as a new potential cutie to flirt with. I find these thoughts unacceptable.

"You are far from broken, Harry. Your stepdad really felt he had made a good choice with me. Look, Liam is here during the day, I'm only here for the evening hours, and then you'll be asleep. You have a catheter, so I'd just have to empty the bag, and never look at anything unless it was an emergency or something. If you want, Liam can do all the naked stuff during the day. We can work it out."

"How do you know about the catheter?" Harry's eyes narrow.

"I've been filled in on your situation and capabilities. Liam told me." I know better than to tell him I got an eyeful of his junk while he was sedated in the hospital.

Harry was quiet. "You're the Patient Whisperer? Pffft. What a crock," he smiles.

"What? Are you doubting my nursing abilities?"

There's that adorable grin.

"Harry. I am serious. You could send me away and you might end up with a scary Nurse Ratched instead, like in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Then you'd be really fucked. I'm just sayin..."

He smiles and fakes exasperation. "You and your weird movies," he says. "Okay. But we're watching that one and the 9 ½ Weeks one you mentioned in the closet. That's the deal."

"You won't regret it, Harry. I'll be your glorified babysitter and evening entertainment. It'll be fun. I brought your coursework. We can watch movies and I'll manicure your nails." I bat my eyelashes at him.

"You have to get rid of those clothes. No scrubs. Too hospital-y."

"You're not into this?" I pose and try to look glamorous.

"The pigtails can stay. They're kinda hot." Fuck. His accent when he said hot gave me the WP.

"I'm kinda digging this bossy side, Mr. Styles."

"Yeah. You just wait," he sticks out his tongue. What a goof.

"Did you mention a manicure?" He looks at his nails, and we both laugh.

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