Chapter 79: Grumpy in a wheelchair
Chapter 79: Grumpy in a wheelchair
Audrey was wheeled into the sitting room with a sharpness that matched her mood. Tennessee stood near the window, phone in his hand.
“Why are you restricting my movements?” Audrey demanded. “Why do I need permission to breathe in my own life now?”
Tennessee turned slowly, already frowning. “Lower your voice.”
“Don’t tell me to lower anything,” she snapped. “You’re not my father. And you’re definitely not my jailer.”
Lorrine hovered awkwardly near the doorway, hands clasped, eyes darting between them. Tennessee glanced at her and made a small gesture with his head. “Lorrine, leave us.”
Lorrine hesitated. “Sir?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Go.”
She looked at Audrey then nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her. The click of the latch sounded. Audrey watched it shut and let out a bitter laugh.
“So now we can talk freely,” she said. “Or is this another controlled environment?”
Tennessee rubbed his face with his palm, already exhausted. “Audrey, calm down.”
She scoffed. “Don’t you dare say that to me.”
“I’m serious,” he replied. “You’re upset, and I get that, but yelling isn’t going to fix anything.”
“What exactly do you get?” she shot back. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve decided I’m fragile, stupid, and incapable of making decisions.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Then explain it to me,” she said sharply. “Explain why your staff follows me like shadows. Explain why I can’t speak to anyone alone. Explain why I had to order someone like I’m barking at a dog just to see you.”
Tennessee folded his arms. “Because you’re not safe.”
Audrey stared at him. “From who?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and that pause set her off.
“From who?” she repeated louder. “Say it.”
“From everyone,” he said finally. “From the mess around you. From the people who don’t have your best interest.”
She laughed again, humorless. “You mean Monkey.”
His jaw tightened. “I mean anyone I don’t trust.”
“And you’re the authority on that now?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I am.”
Audrey leaned forward in her chair, anger burning through her exhaustion. “You can’t decide my world for me. You can’t shrink it because it makes you feel better.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” Tennessee snapped.
“I didn’t ask for your protection.”
“You didn’t have to,” he fired back. “Look at you. You can’t even stand up without help, and you want to argue about freedom?”
Her face went still. The words hit harder than he probably intended, and they both felt it immediately. Audrey’s hands trembled slightly in her lap.
“Say that again,” she said quietly.
Tennessee realized too late what he had said. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s what you think,” she replied. “That because I’m in this chair, I’ve lost my right to choice.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then stop treating me like a liability,” she yelled. “I didn’t become useless overnight.”
“You became vulnerable,” he said. “And I won’t apologize for reacting to that.”
Audrey shook her head slowly. “You didn’t react. You took control.”
“Someone had to,” he said. “My father isn’t here.”
“And I’m not a child filling a gap,” she shot back. “I am his wife.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Tennessee said, his voice rising. “You’re his wife, and he’s thousands of miles away, and everything around you is dirty. I’m not letting you get dragged into it.”
“You don’t even know what ‘it’ is,” she said. “You just assume.”
“I assume because I’ve seen enough.”
“Seen what?” she challenged. “What exactly have you seen, Tennessee? Because from where I’m sitting, all you’ve done is watch.”
He stepped closer, frustration boiling over. “I’ve watched you get hurt. I’ve watched people circle you. I’ve watched my house turn into a battlefield.”
“This isn’t your house,” Audrey snapped. “It’s Izo’s.”
“And he left it in my hands,” Tennessee shot back. “Including you.”
She flinched. “I’m not an object he handed over.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You implied it.”
They stared at each other, both breathing hard. Tennessee ran a hand through his hair. “You’re twisting my words.”
“No,” Audrey said. “I’m finally hearing them clearly.”
He softened slightly. “Audrey, listen. I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“Then stop yelling at me.”
“You started yelling.”
“Because you’re not listening.”
“I am listening.”
“No, you’re managing,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
Silence fell again, thick and uncomfortable. Tennessee looked away, jaw clenched. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”
She laughed bitterly. “Oh, you’re under pressure? Try waking up in a body that doesn’t respond anymore.”
He turned back sharply. “That’s not fair.”
“Neither is this,” she said, gesturing to herself, to the chair, to the invisible walls around her.
His voice dropped. “I’m scared.”
That surprised her. She blinked. “Scared of what?”
“Of losing control,” he admitted. “Of losing you.”
Her breath caught. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“I should,” he said firmly. “Because it’s true.”
“You’re not supposed to feel that way,” she whispered angrily. “You’re crossing lines.”
“I crossed them a long time ago,” he replied.
She shook her head, overwhelmed. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t be making decisions for me.”
“And this is exactly why I am,” he shot back. “You don’t see how dangerous this is.”
“Dangerous to who?” she yelled. “Me or your conscience?”
He slammed his hand against the table. “Enough!”
Audrey jumped slightly, then glared at him. “Don’t shout at me.”
“Then stop pushing me,” he said. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“Your best feels like a cage.”
Tennessee’s voice was low and strained. “Until my father gets back, this is how it’s going to be.”