Until I Keep You: A Forced Proximity Romance (Lyons Club Book 2), page 1
UNTIL I KEEP YOU
CALLIE STEVENS
Copyright © 2024 by Callie Stevens
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Tropes and Content Warning
1. Laney
2. Mason
3. Nate
4. Laney
5. Mason
6. Nate
7. Laney
8. Mason
9. Nate
10. Laney
11. Nate
12. Laney
13. Nate
14. Mason
15. Laney
16. Mason
17. Nate
18. Laney
19. Mason
20. Nate
21. Laney
22. Mason
23. Nate
24. Laney
25. Mason
26. Nate
27. Laney
28. Nate
29. Mason
30. Laney
31. Nate
32. Mason
33. Laney
34. Nate
35. Laney
36. Mason
37. Laney
38. Nate
39. Mason
40. Laney
Epilogue
TROPES AND CONTENT WARNING
Tropes:
Ex’s Best Friend, Second Chance, Forced Proximity, MFM
Content Warning:
This book is intended for mature audiences who are comfortable with explicit sexual content and BDSM themes.
Please proceed with caution.
1
LANEY
I can’t imagine a worse fate than this.
I lift Nate’s leg carefully, straightening out his knee. “How’s that feel?”
The Nate I knew three years ago would agree. He would have rather been dead than stuck in a wheelchair for even an hour.
However, the one in front of me is more than thankful he survived the accident.
Nate looks down at me, a determined look in his ocean-blue eyes. “Good. Tingly.”
I smile and place his foot back down in the stirrup of his wheelchair. “Good. That’s good.”
Nate lifts the toes of his foot through his sock, gritting his teeth. “Ah.”
“Don’t strain yourself.” It has become almost a mantra by now.
He is the most determined patient I’ve ever had, not willing to go with the flow of his treatment plan but wanting to go above and beyond to get back to walking. Get back to normal.
With a heavy sigh, Nate runs his fingers through his dirty blond hair. “I’m not straining myself.”
I narrow my eyes as I get to my feet. “Nate…”
He looks at me from under his veil of thick lashes.
God. What did he do to deserve such beautiful lashes?
“Don’t give me that look.” I smirk.
“What look?”
“You know. The puppy eyes.”
Nate laughs. His laughs have gotten brighter over the past three months as he’s gotten better and stronger. Closer to the man he once was.
The man I knew years ago.
“What do you think, doc?” He grins, open and bright. “Can I get back on the water soon?”
I roll my eyes at the almost daily question.
A long, recurring joke that, the closer he gets to recovery, becomes more real by the day. “I don’t know why you’re so eager to go surfing in Queens.”
“Hey, it’s all I got here.” Nate shows no indication of disappointment on his face. “Besides, the waves aren’t half of what they have in California. You shouldn’t worry.”
“Have you ever heard the definition of insanity, Nathan?” I cock my hip to the side.
He squints one eye closed. “Remind me?”
“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.”
“Psssh! Surfing didn’t cause this.” He gestures to the chair. “I just happened to be surfing when the accident happened.”
I’m glad he still has his excitement for surfing. Many people wouldn’t be half as brave.
“It was a fluke,” Nate goes on. “A floating log or a rogue pile or…”
“Still, not many people would be so excited to get back to the thing that put them in a chair. That’s all.”
“I’m not ‘many people,’ though, am I?” Nate has a mischievous glint in his eye.
My heart leaps into my throat.
No, Nate is not like other people. He’s unique in so many ways.
“I lived. That’s as good a sign as any.” He slaps his hands to his thighs. “Sure, I can’t feel these things, but I’m getting there.”
Spinal cord injuries are hell on mental health. Nate, though, is able to maintain a good outlook almost always.
It helps that the prognosis is good.
He will walk again if I have anything to do with it. And things are right on track.
“Come on, what’s next? I’m not tired yet, and I can feel my feet.”
The feeling returning to his feet was a big win. Happened a few weeks ago. His legs have yet to follow, but the tingling is a good sign.
“We can try the cycle if you want.”
“Hell yeah. Electric shocks? Sign me up.” He gives me a lopsided grin.
I laugh. “The surfer boy is coming out.”
He lifts his hand, folding down his fingers, except his pinky and thumb. “Hang ten, duuuude,” he says in his best California stoner voice.
I groan as I go over to the recumbent bike facing the windows. “You’re the worst.”
Nate snickers to himself as he rolls himself toward me, his muscles rippling underneath his black long-sleeve shirt, almost skintight. He’s always been strong, but since he’s been in the chair, his arms have gotten even more of a workout than before.
It’s just not fair because he’s stupid pretty too.
I’ve always thought that, but now that I spend all day with him, am responsible for taking care of him, I have far too much time to admire…and daydream.
Which is entirely wrong.
For one, he’s my patient. And for another…
“Help me up, would you?” Nate outstretches his hand.
I let out a soft chuckle. “Of course. Sorry.”
Getting Nate out of the chair is a difficult task, although it’s gotten better now that he can ground his feet.
I slide his legs out to the floor, then wrap my arms around Nate’s waist.
He braces his hands against the chair and pushes up while I pull.
We pivot until he’s in the correct position above the bike seat.
I lower him with all the care I can muster, mindful not to be too brusque, while trying not to pay any mind to his hands that now rest on my back.
It was awkward the first few times. The closeness, the intimacy of being helped like this. Now, though, it’s almost rote.
We do this so many times a day, I shouldn’t even bat an eye.
But god. How I crave the momentary closeness to get a whiff of his masculine scent, always tinged with citrus shampoo, and to feel the warmth that spreads across his chest.
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt close to a patient.
I’ve been in the field for a few years now, and closeness happens. Though it never happened to me before, it is not unheard of to have the closeness manifest into a crush. Which is why I try not to give my feelings too much weight.
However, when Nate grabs back, it makes my head spin.
“Feel good?” My voice is strained.
“Yes, that’s fine.”
I release Nate, and he adjusts himself on the bike seat, spinning himself forward and attempting to do my work for me by lifting his leg into one of the slings for his foot.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. I’ve got to get you hooked up first.”
Nate huffs but does not argue.
The living room of the Lyons penthouse has become as close to a functioning physical therapy office over the past several months as possible. In fact, it’s even better than the clinic I work at, with all the state-of-the-art options Edwin Lyons, Nate’s father, can afford.
The black card he handed me when he hired me is not just for medical expenses like equipment and medication. Edwin insists I use it for my living expenses too. Which means all the money I’m making is going directly to my bank account.
I’m not exactly comfortable with this arrangement, regardless of how rich he is, but I can’t argue much when the one thing I need the most in the world is to be financially secure.
Life has had a lot of ups and downs, and I need to make sure I’m never so down as to be helpless. If I have financial stability, I know I can handle anything the universe throws at me. Because I can deal with almost anything.
Except maybe people… Love… That requires a whole other level of preparation and availability I’m not sure I have anymore.
But I do have preparation and availability to help Nate.
And this bike has been one of the best things for keeping Nate’s muscles conditioned as it keeps his frustrations at bay when he is feeling confine
I push aside Nate’s robe to reveal his legs, covered to his knee by a pair of athletic shorts, and then place the sticky pads connected to the wiring of the machine on his thighs. “That feel okay?”
“Fine for now. Already thinking about how these things are going to wax off my leg hair once we’re finished,” Nate’s tone is dry.
I laugh. “Maybe we ought to start shaving your legs, hm?”
“Would that make me pretty?” Nate clasps his hands together and bats his eyelashes.
“Might take a bit more work than that.” Lord help me if he got any prettier.
“Hey!”
I grin over my shoulder at Nate.
We’ve always had a rapport like this.
It used to feel silly, just friends ribbing each other. Now, it feels like more. Makes my heart flutter and my stomach flip.
The jokes have turned into teasing.
And I like it more than I should admit.
I get Nate’s legs into the stirrups, Velcro him in, and start the machine.
He grabs the handlebars and begins to pump his legs with the help of the electrical stimulation.
“Wow, look at you…” I marvel at the ease with which his legs are moving.
“It feels a lot better.”
The last few times we used it, his movements were stifled, muscles hiccupping and bristling with confusion. Now, it’s just fluid.
I take a look at the screen over Nate’s shoulder to check on his heart rate. It’s normal for this amount of cardiac strain.
“What are you thinking?” His eyes dart back at me for only a moment.
“I’m just taking mental notes.” I lean on the back of the bike.
“Bad or good?”
“Good, Nate. Really good. The muscle re-education is happening a lot faster than I anticipated.”
Which is a good thing. A really good thing. For everyone.
It means I’ve done my job, means Nate will be back to his old life sooner rather than later.
But that also means I’ll have to leave. Move out and onto the next challenge.
No more family dinners with the Lyons, no more bedrooms with a view of Central Park out the window, no more black cards.
No more Nate.
None of this should have happened in the first place.
“Hey Laney, mind grabbing my headphones for me? I think I’ll be here for a while.”
“I don’t want you to overdo it.”
“I promise I won’t. Please?”
I eye Nate.
I want him to trust his body. As his therapist, I trust it too. Know that despite the trauma, it’s capable of recovering.
Half of it is kinesiology. The other is the mental fortitude to achieve.
Today, I’ll let Nate exercise that other muscle. “Fine. That’s better than me having to listen to your stoner rock anyway.”
I grab his headphones off the coffee table and hand them over.
“You don’t even give my stoner rock a chance.”
“Trust me, I’ve given it plenty of chances,” I grumble and collapse on the couch nearest Nate.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s better than–”
“Don’t you say it!”
There’s a glimmer in his blue eyes as he looks over at me, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face. “Better than Taylor–”
I cover my ears. “Lalala! I can’t hear you!”
Nate bursts into laughter, muffled by my hands over my ears.
I watch him put on the headphones and tap away on his phone, knowing he’s probably listening to some song like, “Green Leaves of California” or “Mary Jane is My One and Only”. I remove my hands.
“Swift.” Nate bursts out, not bothering to look at me.
“I hate you,” I say, in the way you do when it’s clear all the feelings you have are anything but hate.
“Can’t hear you. Headphones,” he almost shouts, but I know he is lying.
“Ass,” I mutter and lean back on the couch, whipping out my phone. I tap around on social media for a couple of minutes, glancing over at Nate from time to time to make sure everything is going well with the bike.
The doorbell rings.
Nate doesn’t look up, his headphones too loud for him to have heard.
I don’t believe we’re expecting anyone. But we’re also the only ones here.
Edwin and Sonia, Edwin’s partner, are both at work at his members’ only club downtown.
And for the most part, Edwin runs the Lyons penthouse with limited staff, which I appreciate.
We have a chef on call for dinners, but other than that and the housekeeping staff that visits a couple of times a week, it’s just the four of us.
I get up, mumbling, “Be right back,” over my shoulder to Nate, and head into the front hall.
Peeping into the small, glassy hole in the door, my heart sinks at who is on the other side.
Mason Lotts.
His green eyes are downcast as he waits, a light peppering of stubble on his cheeks and chin, highlighting his sharp, tan jawline further. Around his neck, the necklace I gave him over five years ago now.
When we used to be in love.
A silver circle tied with a black string.
Can’t believe he still wears it after all this. After what I did to him.
Mason is Nate’s best friend. He also happens to be my ex-boyfriend.
That’s what made this assignment so complicated for me.
Edwin Lyons demanded the best of the best and the hospital sent me.
You can imagine the shock on all our faces when I walked into Nate’s hospital room all those months ago.
I open the door and force a smile as I look up at him. Somehow, I always forget just how tall he is.
It used to be so sexy. Still is, but now I just feel like a pathetic little girl in his shadow. “H-hey.”
Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen him over the past three months. Every time still feels like the first, burning searing heat through my face and clavicle, and nauseating butterflies swarming in my stomach.
“Oh, hi, Laney.” Mason sounds taken off-guard that I’m the one who answered the door.
Seth nods at me from behind Mason. “Hey, Laney.”
Shit, I didn’t even notice Seth was there.
The three of them have been friends since their late teens.
I shouldn’t be so surprised.
“What’s up?” I look between them.
Mason furrows his silky brow. “Um.” He glances at Seth and then back at me. “It’s guys’ night. Nate didn’t say anything about hosting?”
Oh. “No, he didn’t.”
Seth grins. “He forgot about his old friends?”
I roll my eyes as I smile at them. “His medication can make things hazy. We’re trying to wean him off a lot of them to avoid dependence, but he’s still trying to find that mental clarity.”
Mason and Seth stare at me.
I stare back until it hits me.
Shoot.
“Sorry.” I step aside. “He’s in the living room. Working out. Try not to sneak up on him, he’s got headphones on.”
“Will do.” Seth half-smiles, striding through the front hall quicker than I’d like, leaving Mason and me alone.
I close the door after Mason enters and try to ignore how he’s just standing there, waiting for me to look at him.
“How are you doing?” The words come out strangled at the back of his throat.
“Good.” I nod, my ponytail bobbing against my neck.
“Good. That’s good.”
I bite my lower lip. “Do you need anything or…” I nod in the direction Seth took.
“No, I just wanted to talk to you alone for a minute. Is that okay?” Mason’s eyebrow quirks.
It’s not at all okay. And yet, it’s all I want.
I loved Mason beyond reason. I thought we’d be together forever and then…things didn’t work out that way. I broke it off because I thought he broke us first.
I can’t imagine anyone ever wanting me the way he did.
So, I turned my whole focus to my work. At least I can create my own security. I don’t have to rely on someone else for it. Rely on their love and attention. I know just how fleeting it can be.
I had my chance at true love.
Most people never find it, and I just threw it away like it meant nothing.
Broke my heart, broke his, and I know I’ll never have anything even remotely close to what I had with Mason ever again.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” I’m not ready to talk to him.
