Fireside Romance Book 1: First Flames by Drew Hunt Read Free Book Online

It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with you, in Mark’s case he had injured his hands. He could walk, but no, he had to sit in a wheelchair. The nurse pushed Mark in the chair as far as the hospital’s main foyer, where we could ring for a taxi.
    One good feature in the foyer was a direct and free phone to one of the local taxi companies. All you had to do was pick up the receiver and press the button. The only trouble was rival taxi companies didn’t like this arrangement and frequently vandalised the phone. Of course sods law was in evidence here, the phone didn’t work. The kind nurse who escorted us down went to the reception desk and got the receptionist to call a cab for us. This done, she departed with the wheelchair back to the ward.
    “Shouldn’t be too long,” I said to Mark.
    “Good, I’m getting hungry.”
    “Yeah, the food is pretty crap in here isn’t it?”
    “Bloody well is,” he said with feeling. “The most edible thing we had for lunch today was the skin off the rice pudding.”
    I pulled a face. “Never mind, I’ve got plenty of food in at home. Stocked up for Christmas as usual.”
    “Thanks,” he said quietly.
    What is it about the British? We go around like headless chickens for a few weeks before Christmas, buying in tonnes of food. Much of the non-perishable items are still in the larder come April.
    The taxi ride home was uneventful, the rush hour having long since passed, so it only took a few minutes to get us home. I paid the fare and got us inside.
    As soon as the door closed behind us, Mark wrapped his arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along. I was beginning to think I’d have to go back home to Dad.” He gave a shudder.
    “You’re stopping here.” Tears began to threaten. “I get lonely stuck in here on my own. I want you to stay. Now you’ve got a permanent address.” I hope he understood what I meant by permanent. “You can apply for state benefits, and hopefully when your hands heal, you’ll be able to get a job. That should also be easier now you’ve got a proper home.”
    He kissed me.
    “Come on, you said you were hungry. Let’s raid the kitchen.” I put my arm around his shoulders and led him into the other room. I opened the main cupboard door and said, “So, what do you want?”
    “Erm.” He stared into the cupboard, then, looking back at me, asked, “You remember the first time I came here and we had chicken and pasta?”
    I nodded.
    “Can we have that again?” He lowered both his voice and his head. “It’s kind of symbolic, I suppose.”
    “Of course we can.” I swallowed. I was beginning to get emotional again. “You sit down there on that stool and remind me what we did last time.”
    I had to turn away from him to hide my eyes, which were starting to leak.
    He directed operations while I prepared the meal. Thinking back to a psychology book I had once read, I realised it was a good idea to get him involved as much as his disability would allow. It would lessen the chances of him feeling helpless.
    I put the two plates of food on the kitchen table and asked him if he wanted anything to drink.
    “Water, please.”
    I filled two glasses from the tap. Then I rummaged around in the cupboard and found a packet of drinking straws. Putting a couple in Mark’s glass, I took the drinks to the table.
    “At least you’ll be able to take a drink on your own,” I said. More psychology.
    “Thanks.”
    I sat at 90 degrees from him. Picking up my fork, I stabbed a bit of the food with it and raised it up to Mark’s lips.
    “Open wide for the choo-choo train,” I said with a smile.
    He laughed.
    While he was chewing, I put a forkful in my own mouth. We continued to eat. Mark bent down occasionally to take a sip of water. All in all I think we managed pretty well.
    “I think in future, I may as well put both portions on the same plate,” I said, bringing a piece of paper towel