Third-Person Limited – Kendra, then Dominic
Three weeks later, Kendra didn't remember what it felt like to have hands.
Real hands, not heavy plaster clubs attached to her arms.
Her casts were now covered in doodles and signatures—little hearts from Jennie, "BADDER THAN BAD" in big letters from Erica, a tiny Jamaican flag from Jeah, and Sofia's dramatic: "DO NOT TOUCH – PROPERTY OF DOMINIC" written across her left forearm.
The constant ache had faded from sharp fire to a deep, nagging throb. She could wiggle her fingers better now. The doctor said that was a good sign.
Didn't change the fact that she still couldn't tie a shoe, zip a jacket, or hook a bra.
It also didn't change the fact that Dominic Garrison had somehow become part of her daily routine.
Which she hated.
And depended on.
At the same time.
Morning – House
"Arms," Sofia sang, popping her head into Kendra's room.
Kendra sat on the edge of her bed in leggings and a sports bra, hair down, casts resting on her thighs. The morning light creeping through the blinds made the white plaster glow.
"I feel like a broken action figure," Kendra muttered.
"That's because you are," Sofia said cheerfully. "Limited Edition: 'Don't Mess with Me, I Bite.'"
She tossed a big hoodie at her. "Hands up."
Kendra lifted her arms, muscles complaining.
"Careful, careful, careful," Sofia murmured, gently working one sleeve over the cast, then the other, stretching the fabric so it didn't scrape.
"You've done this so much, you can be a certified nurse by now," Kendra said.
"Please, I'd get fired for cussing out half the patients," Sofia replied. "Okay. Hoodie: secured."
They shuffled to the bathroom.
Bathing had been the worst adjustment.
The first week, Kendra had nearly had a full meltdown trying to figure out how to wash properly without soaking the casts. The hospital had given them plastic covers, but they were annoying and slippery. Eventually, they'd developed a system:
Plastic bags + tape around the casts.Kendra did the actual washing.One of the girls (or Sofia) stayed close in case she slipped.
Still, things like washing her hair were… complicated.
"Alright," Sofia said, pulling a stool closer to the tub. "We're doing a hair wash today or you're going to start growing wildlife in there."
"Rude," Kendra said, but she took the seat.
The bathroom door was cracked open, steam already misting the mirror as the tub filled.
"You texted him?" Sofia asked casually, reaching for the shampoo.
Kendra frowned. "Who?"
Sofia gave her a look.
"Oh, him," Kendra said. "Why would I text him about my shower, are you mad?"
"Relax, Miss Paranoid," Sofia said. "I meant about the bus. He said he might come early so you don't have to carry anything."
"I'm starting to think he lives outside our gate," Kendra grumbled. "Like one stray dog waiting to get adopted."
Sofia snorted. "Tell that to his expensive shoes."
She tilted Kendra's head back carefully, guiding her over the tub. "Deep breath. Water coming."
Warm water flowed softly over her scalp.
Kendra sighed, despite herself.
"This," she admitted, "is the only good part of having no hands. Professional hair wash, daily."
"I'm sending you a bill," Sofia said. "Turn a little… there."
They were halfway through rinsing when a soft knock sounded from the front door.
"That him," Kendra said.
"Probably," Sofia replied. "Told him to come ten minutes early. You know how you move like old lady with these casts."
Kendra rolled her eyes upward. "You're the worst."
"You love me," Sofia sing-songed. "Stay right there. Don't drown."
"I'm not going anywhere!" Kendra yelled after her.
She heard muffled voices from the front, the low rumble of Dominic's and Sofia's brighter chatter. A few seconds later, footsteps approached the hallway.
"Warning," Sofia called. "Man-child incoming. Head is decent, top half covered, so nobody scream."
"I swear to God, if he comes in here while I'm naked—" Kendra started.
"I'm not," Dominic's voice cut in from the doorway, firm and a little strangled. "Door's staying right there."
Kendra relaxed by exactly 0.1%.
"Morning," he added.
She could see his shadow in the hall through the cracked door, but not his face.
"Why are you here so early?" she grumbled, eyes shut as water ran over her curls. "School didn't start yet."
"Your dad asked if there was anything else I could help with while you're… like this," he said. "Sofia agreed."
"He didn't mean 'assist in the bathroom,'" Kendra snapped.
"I'm not in the bathroom," he said. "I'm in the hallway. Very different. I'm just here to carry your bag and not let you slip on the stairs again."
"Good," she said. "Keep your distance."
"Trust me, I'd prefer if less of your hygiene involved me," he shot back. "But your neighbor here—"
"Your neighbor too," Sofia chimed in.
"—seems to believe in assigning me side quests," he finished.
"You'll be fine," Sofia said. "Kendra, tilt left… okay, shampoo out. We're good."
Five minutes later, Kendra stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, hoodie on, leggings in place, hair dripping into a towel twisted on top of her head. Casts wrapped neatly in fresh plastic she'd forget to take off later.
Dominic leaned against the wall across from the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, her bag at his feet. He straightened when he saw her.
"You good?" he asked.
"I'm waterproof. Mostly," she said.
He picked up her bag. "Let's go then. Before we're late."
"Look at you, giving orders in my house," she muttered. "Bold."
He held the front door open with his hip as she squeezed past.
When he reached to adjust the towel that was slipping on her head, she instinctively jerked back.
He froze.
"So that's still a no," he said quietly.
Kendra exhaled.
"It's… reflex," she muttered. "From all the other times you grabbed me without asking."
He nodded once. "Understood."
Sofia popped her head out of the kitchen. "You two done being emotionally complicated?" she called. "Sofia is waiting outside."
"Coming!" Kendra shouted, stomping out onto the porch.
Dominic followed, letting the door swing shut behind them.
School – Routine Gets Weirdly Normal
By now, everyone at school knew the drill.
Kendra walked; Dominic carried.
Her backpack. Sometimes her lunch. Occasionally the random stuff Sofia shoved at her last minute ("Give this to the office!" "Bring this to my locker!").
He waited outside each classroom door. Not inside. Not hovering at her desk. Just there when the bell rang, like clockwork.
At first, people started.
Now, they just… accepted it.
Some still whispered, of course.
"Garrison must feel so bad."
"Maybe they secretly like each other."
"She'll be cured and he'll still be carrying her bag at graduation."
Every now and then, Kendra caught someone looking at them with a soft, sappy expression that made her want to gag.
Dominic ignored them.
Kendra pretended to.
At lunch, their arrangement had also… evolved.
He still helped her through the line, steadying the tray when it threatened to tilt. He still put it down in front of her. But now, he stayed.
Not always. Not every day. But most.
He sat at the end of the table, half-angled toward his friends across the room, half-tuned into the girls' chaotic conversation.
One day, halfway through the third week, the cafeteria incident happened.
Not that cafeteria incident.
A new one.
"Okay, listen," Kendra said, stabbing at her rice with the side of her fork. "If one more teacher calls me 'brave' for walking to class with both arms, I'm going to stick this fork in my eye."
"That'd be a different kind of brave," Erica said.
"Sir in science really said: 'You're such a fighter' because you opened your own textbook," Jeah added. "Like, sir. Please relax."
"Maybe they're just being nice," Jennie said, always the peacekeeper.
"No, Jennie," Kendra groaned. "Nice is: 'Hey, how are you feeling?' Not: 'Wow, look at you existing despite your injuries."
Sofia laughed, snatching a fry off Kendra's plate.
"Oi!" Kendra protested. "Those are mine."
"You can't guard them properly," Sofia pointed out. "You're disabled."
"Watch me," Kendra said, trying to shield her plate with her forearms.
The cast got in the way.
A fry slipped off the plate toward the table edge.
Dominic's hand shot out, catching it before it fell.
Without thinking, he held it up to Kendra's mouth.
"Open," he said.
She froze.
So did half the table.
Her brain did a full reboot.
Did he just—
Was he—
In front of everyone?
She could feel eyes on them from nearby tables. A hush fell around them, like the room was leaning in.
"Absolutely not," she said, heat flooding her cheeks. "What is this, some kind of rom com?"
"You were about to lose it to the floor," he said calmly, still holding the fry up. "Five-second rule doesn't apply in this cafeteria. Trust me."
"I can pick it up," she insisted.
"Not with those," he nodded at her casts.
She glared at him.
At the fry.
Back at him.
"Just… put it back on the plate," she muttered.
He didn't.
"Pretend it's a sword fight and I'm losing," Sofia whispered. "Just eat the stupid fry."
Kendra wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
Instead, she did the only thing that would make this end faster.
She leaned forward and took the fry from his fingers, biting down harder than necessary.
His hand dropped back slowly.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Silence stretched—
Then Erica burst out laughing.
"Oh my God, that was disgusting and weirdly cute," she said.
"It was not cute," Kendra snapped. "It was humiliating. There's a difference. And if anyone says 'Awww,' I'm flipping the whole table."
Across the room, someone—probably the person who ran @GarrisonTea—lifted their phone.
Kendra saw it.
Dominic did too.
He turned his head just enough and locked eyes with them.
"Don't," he mouthed.
Whatever they saw in his face made them slowly lower the phone.
Karina, sitting two tables over, watched the entire exchange with a look that could peel paint.
Her hand tightened around her soda cup.
The plastic crinkled.
Afternoon – House Again
After school, Dominic had started coming by more often.
At first, it was just Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Then there was that one Wednesday where Kendra had dropped a whole pot of cooked pasta because the condensation made the pot slip from her awkward grip. The noodles had exploded across the kitchen like tiny beige grenades.
She'd laughed.
And then, when everyone else started laughing too, she'd abruptly stopped and gone very quiet.
The next day, he'd shown up again, even though it wasn't "his day."
"I thought it was only Tuesdays and Thursdays," she'd said, opening the door with her hip.
"Consider this a bonus round," he'd replied. "You nearly committed manslaughter with spaghetti yesterday."
So now, "two days a week" had quietly become… most days.
He helped carry groceries in when Sofia came back from the store. He opened jars. He lifted heavy pans. He held the garbage bags open while the girls dumped in leftover food.
And sometimes—
When the house felt less like a dorm and more like a family—
He helped with things that made Kendra's skin prickle with discomfort and reluctant gratitude.
Like the hoodie incident.
She was in her room, wrestling with the zipper of her hoodie, tugging at it with both forearms like she was in a wrestling match.
"Come on," she grunted. "Move, you stupid—"
"Kendra?" Sofia's voice floated up the stairs. "Door's open?"
"Yeah!" she called back. "I need help murdering a zipper."
Footsteps came up.
More than one set.
Kendra scowled.
"I swear, if you brought—"
Her door nudged open.
Sofia peeked in first.
Dominic stood behind her, back turned, eyes on the wall like he was doing some moral training exercise.
"Your patient is angry," Sofia said solemnly. "What seems to be the issue today?"
"This demon zipper won't go up," Kendra huffed, tugging at it again. The hoodie bunched awkwardly around her chest. "I tried using my teeth. Nearly swallowed metal."
"Please don't do that," Dominic said, still not looking in. "We don't have dental insurance for that."
She glared at him.
"Can you not breathe the same air as me while I'm half-dressed?" she demanded.
"You're fully dressed," Sofia pointed out. "You just look like the hoodie is attacking you."
"It is," Kendra insisted.
Sofia stepped aside. "Dom?" she said. "You're up."
He stepped into the doorway cautiously, eyes resolutely fixed on the zipper and nowhere else.
"Can I…?" he asked, lifting his hands slightly.
She hesitated.
It was just a zipper.
He'd already seen her at her absolute worst—crying from pain, cussing at door hinges, nearly falling asleep upright because she refused to admit how tired she was.
Letting him zip a hoodie wasn't that much worse.
She exhaled through her nose.
"Fine," she muttered. "Top half only. Then get out."
"Copy that," he said.
He stepped closer slowly, as if approaching a wild animal.
Up close, Kendra could see the faint veins in his hands, the tiny scars on his knuckles. His fingers brushed the metal zipper tab. The back of his hand hovered just above the front of her hoodie.
"Tell me if it hurts," he said quietly.
"Just hurry up," she replied.
He tugged gently.
The zipper slid up in one smooth motion, closing the hoodie around her neck. His knuckles barely grazed the fabric over her sternum. Warmth radiated from his hand through the cotton.
Her breath hitched.
Stupid, she told herself. It's a zipper. It's gravity and friction, not feelings.
"Done," he said, stepping back immediately, hands at his sides again. He glanced once at her face. "Better?"
She tried to say yes.
What came out was more like, "Mm."
Sofia cleared her throat dramatically. "Alright," she said. "Zipper demon: defeated. I'll be downstairs if you guys want help with math."
"Math is evil," Kendra said automatically.
"Still due tomorrow," Sofia called, retreating.
Dominic lingered for half a second.
"You could've asked one of the girls," he said.
"They're downstairs," she said. "You were closer."
He seemed to consider that like it was the most important data he'd heard all day.
Closer.
"Right," he said. "I'll… go unlock jars until dinner, I guess."
He left.
She sat on the edge of her bed, hoodie zipped, casts heavy in her lap, heart pounding harder than any stupid zipper warranted.
Night – Kendra's Thoughts
Later that night, when the house had quieted and everyone was in bed, Kendra lay staring at the ceiling, casts resting on pillows at her sides.
Three weeks ago, she would've sworn she'd never let Dominic anywhere near her again.
Now:
He'd helped with bathroom doors.He'd carried her bags, every day.He'd typed her essays and not taken credit.He'd run errands for Sofia.He'd zipped her hoodie.
She realized something that made her stomach twist.
She hadn't flinched when he reached for the zipper.
Not really.
Her brain had screamed. Her pride had yelled.
But her body… hadn't panicked.
That scared her more than any staircase.
Because hate was easy when someone was always cruel.
It was harder now.
Harder when the same boy who'd once tripped her in the hallway was now the first one to grab her elbow if she stumbled. The same boy who'd called her a whale was now making sure no one else joked about her weight within earshot. The same boy who'd broken her wrists was now the only reason her life hadn't completely fallen apart.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"This doesn't mean anything," she told the empty room. "He's doing time. That's it. He breaks, he fixes. End of story."
The warmth in her chest—small, stubborn, traitorous—disagreed.
Night – Dominic
Across town, Dominic sat on the edge of his bed, hands loosely linked, staring at the floor.
He could still feel the ghost of the zipper between his fingers.
The heat of her body under that stupid hoodie.
The trust in the way she'd stood there and let him step close.
A few weeks ago, she wouldn't even let him stand within arm's reach without a threat.
Now she let him help.
Not all the time.
Not with everything.
But with enough that it mattered.
His wolf paced slower these days.
The panic of the first weeks had faded into something steadier. The bond still hummed, but less like a scream and more like a constant, quiet ache. He could feel her pain still—dull when she was resting, sharp when she bumped her casts.
He'd learned to breathe through it.
He'd also learned that nothing in his life had ever felt as strange—and right—as sitting in her living room, surrounded by her friends, helping her with homework like it was the most normal thing in the world.
She still snapped at him.
Still rolled her eyes.
Still told him she hated him at least once a week.
But she also:
Let him into her space.Let him see her tired.Let him see her frustrated without pushing him out of the house.
It felt like being handed something fragile and being told: This is not yours. But you may carry it for a while. Don't drop it.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Six to eight weeks," he whispered.
It no longer felt like a sentence.
It felt like a countdown.
To what, he didn't know.
To her casts coming off.
To the moment she might not need him anymore.
To the moment he would have to decide whether to step back… or find an entirely new way to be in her life.
He closed his eyes and saw her again—head tilted back over the tub, eyes shut, trusting Sofia's hands. Hood half-zipped, arms helpless, glaring at him but still letting him close.
His chest tightened.
"Don't screw this up," he muttered to himself.
His wolf huffed in agreement.
For now, all he could do was keep doing what he'd promised:
Carry what he broke.
Even when that meant holding things he'd never expected.
Her bag.
Her homework.
Her trust.
And maybe, if he didn't mess it up completely…
More.