Time Together

Previous chapter.

The whole story from the beginning can be found here.

*****

Wednesday rolled around with the long, dragging rhythm of a workday that seemed determined to never end. Steve clocked out of the warehouse just after five, exhaustion in his shoulders, but a restless kind of energy buzzing through him that no amount of lifting crates had managed to burn off. Finally, they had managed to schedule some quiet time together, alone. By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was already running through the evening in his head, what he had in the fridge, how best to time things, how the house looked.

He gave himself a once over in the hall mirror as he came in, peeling off his dusty work shirt and tossing it straight into the hamper. A quick shower followed, hot water pounding the stiffness from his muscles, steam fogging the glass until he finally stepped out, toweling his hair dry. In his room, he chose something casual but presentable, dark jeans, a clean shirt, and rolled up the sleeves. Not dressed up, not sloppy. Just… him.

The kitchen became his battleground next. He’d decided on something solid but not overly complicated, grilled chicken breasts marinated in olive oil, garlic, and lemon, and roasted vegetables. He wanted her to feel comfortable, not like she’d walked into a five star restaurant.

As the chicken sizzled on the skillet and the oven timer ticked down, he moved through the living room, scooping up the clutter he usually didn’t mind, stray tools, mail stacked too high, a pair of boots kicked under the couch. He vacuumed fast, wiped down the coffee table, even swapped out the old throw blanket for a clean one. By the time everything was set, the house had the rare shine of someone expecting company.

At 6:15, his phone buzzed, Harper. Leaving now. Should be there in about 20.

Steve grinned at the screen, thumbs tapping back quickly. Perfect. Dinner’s almost ready.

He set two plates, poured a couple glasses of sweet tea, and was just sliding the chicken onto a serving platter when the low purr of a car engine rolled into his driveway. The green hatchback. He dried his hands on a towel, heart thudding steady but quick as he stepped to the door.

Through the window, he caught sight of Harper lifting herself smoothly into her chair, adjusting her bag over the handles before wheeling up the walk. She wore her office clothes still, a fitted blouse tucked into slacks with a cardigan over top, flats on her feet, her hair still in the familiar braid she’d worn during their last few dates, it slipped over her shoulder and brushed her collarbone.

The knock never even landed before Steve pulled the door open, the faint smell of garlic and lemon still drifting from the kitchen. Harper sat waiting on the porch, her hands resting lightly on the wheels, but her eyes weren’t on him just yet. She was looking down, studying the wooden ramp that stretched neatly from the porch to the gravel drive.

Her lips curved into a slow smile. “This looks new.”

Steve glanced down at it as though he hadn’t noticed. “Oh, that? Just something I threw together yesterday. Didn’t take long—couple boards, a little time with the drill.”

Harper tilted her head, one brow arching. “You built a ramp just for me?”

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but the way his ears warmed gave him away. “Figured it might make things easier than me hovering every time you hit the steps. No big deal.”

She wheeled up onto it smoothly, rolling toward the doorway with effortless ease. “No big deal,” she echoed softly, her voice carrying a warmth that hit him harder than he expected. She paused just inside the threshold, looking up at him with a smile that reached her eyes. “Steve, that’s… thoughtful. Thank you.”

For a second he didn’t know what to do with the sincerity in her gaze. He rubbed at the back of his neck, muttering, “Yeah, well. You’re welcome.”

Then he stepped aside, ushering her in with a wave of his hand. “Come on. Dinner’s waiting.”

And as the door closed behind them, Harper cast one last glance back at the ramp, her smile lingering, a quiet acknowledgment of what it meant that he’d thought of her comfort before she even asked.

The faint aroma of garlic and lemon clung to the air, drawing her nose upward as she rolled into the kitchen. “That smells amazing.”

Steve chuckled, lifting the platter to the table. “Hope it tastes half as good. I figured after the drive-in concession stand, I owed you a real meal.”

She laughed softly, settling herself at the table as he set everything down. “Honestly, burgers and fries at the drive-in were great. But I’m not saying no to this.”

They sat across from one another, plates filling quickly, the quiet clink of silverware mingling with the hum of conversation as they slipped into an easy rhythm. Harper teased him about the neatly folded napkins, “Didn’t peg you for the fine dining presentation,” while Steve ribbed her for how fast she demolished the roasted carrots.

The meal stretched into laughter and little stories, pauses comfortable, the air between them carrying something that had grown steadier since their last date. When the food was gone and the plates were pushed aside, Steve leaned back, arms folded casually over his chest, and tilted his head toward the living room.

“So,” he said, lips quirking, “you want dessert, or you want to just… hang out for a while?”

Harper brushed her hair back from her face, her eyes meeting his with a spark that made his chest tighten. “Hang out sounds pretty perfect.”

He stood, gathering the plates with one hand. “Good. Living room’s yours. I’ll take care of this.”

As she wheeled after him slowly, he caught the little glint in her eyes, the kind that said she wasn’t here just for dinner. Tonight was going to be about more than food, it was about them, about whatever might come next when there were no movie crowds, no watchful grandmothers, no distractions. Just Harper and Steve, finally alone in his house.

Steve carried the empty plates into the kitchen, stacking them neatly in the sink with the casual efficiency of someone used to living alone, then wiped his hands on a towel as he turned back toward the hall. The soft whir of Harper’s wheels carried from the living room, a sound that already felt natural in his house.

When he stepped in, he found her parked by the bookshelf, tilting her head as she scanned the spines. She glanced over her shoulder with a grin. “You read more than I thought you would.”

Steve smirked, leaning against the doorway. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not bad,” she teased, fingers brushing the worn spine of a mystery novel. “Just unexpected.”

He moved toward the couch, nudging the folded throw blanket aside as he sat. “What were you expecting? Stacks of car magazines and old beer cans?”

Her laugh rang warm as she wheeled over, positioning herself beside the couch before transferring up onto the cushion. She adjusted quickly, tucking her legs loosely with her hands, then leaned back with a little sigh. “Maybe a few beer cans.”

“Those are in the garage,” he admitted, and her laugh came again, soft but unguarded.

The living room was dim but cozy, the lamp in the corner throwing a pool of amber light across the carpet. Outside, crickets chirped faintly through the open window. Steve shifted toward her, resting one arm along the back of the couch, close enough that she could lean into it if she wanted.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Very,” Harper said, and there was a warmth in the word that had nothing to do with the couch. She turned to him, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “I like your place. It feels… like you.”

Steve chuckled low. “Hope that’s a compliment.”

“It is.” Her eyes lingered on him, steady, thoughtful. “It’s honest. Simple, but welcoming. Kind of like you.”

The words settled in his chest, heavier than he expected, and for a long moment he just looked at her, the way the lamplight caught the freckles on her cheeks, the curve of her lips when she wasn’t trying to hide her smile.

He finally leaned closer, voice low. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“So am I,” Harper replied, her gaze dipping to his mouth before flicking back up.

The quiet between them was charged now, the air thick with all the things they hadn’t said yet, the memory of the drive-in kisses still burning at the edges. Steve let his hand trail down from the back of the couch, brushing her shoulder lightly, waiting for her to lean in again.

Harper didn’t pull back when his fingers brushed her shoulder. Instead, she shifted closer, her body angling toward him, the cushion dipping with the weight of her movement. Steve felt the heat of her thigh through the fabric of his jeans where her leg brushed against him, limp though it was, still a point of connection.

He turned slightly, closing the space, and Harper’s lips met his halfway. The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, as if testing whether the spark from the drive-in would hold here, in the quiet of his living room. It did. More than that, it burned hotter without the cover of blankets or the cover noise of a movie.

Her hand found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and Steve felt the little tug pull him deeper. He shifted his other hand to rest at her waist, thumb brushing the line where her blouse had loosened from her slacks. She let out a small sound, half sigh, half laugh, before deepening the kiss, tilting her head so their mouths moved together more urgently.

When they finally broke apart, Harper’s breath was quick, her cheeks flushed. “You’re a good kisser,” she murmured, green eyes glinting in the lamp’s light.

Steve grinned faintly, still close enough that their noses nearly touched. “So are you.”

She laughed again, softer this time, the sound rolling into a quieter moment where she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. His arm came up instinctively, wrapping around her and holding her close. For a while they just sat like that, letting the quiet fill in around them, her breath steadying, his heartbeat slowing back down from its sprint.

After a minute, Harper tilted her head up again, studying him. “You know,” she said, her voice lower now, more intimate, “I was a little nervous about tonight. About being here, at your place. I wasn’t sure if it would feel… natural.”

Steve stroked his thumb slowly along her arm. “And does it?”

She smiled, leaning in again until their lips brushed. “Yeah. It does.”

Steve kissed her once more, slow and lingering, and this time there was no question about where the night was headed. they both knew they had hours left ahead, and no one watching, no excuses. Just them, the warmth of the living room, and a connection that felt like it was only just beginning.

Steve shifted back slightly, just enough to really see her face. Harper’s hair had slipped forward, a few strands brushing her cheeks, and her lips were still parted, pink from their kisses. She looked at him like she was trying to memorize him, like she wasn’t in a hurry for the moment to end.

“Want to move somewhere more comfortable?” he asked gently, nodding toward the hallway. He wasn’t trying to push, just giving her the option.

Harper’s eyes lingered in that direction, then came back to him. Her lips curved in a faint smile, shy but certain. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that. But… I need to stop by the bathroom first.”

Steve nodded without hesitation. “Of course. You can use the master bath, it’s off my bedroom. It’s bigger than the other one, so you’ll have more room to move around.”

Relief flickered across her face, and she gave him a grateful look. “Thanks. That’ll help.”

He stood and offered his hand automatically, steadying her as she shifted back into her chair. The small details of her movements still caught his attention, the way her hands slid sure and practiced along the rims, the slight adjustments she made to balance herself, but he forced his eyes back to hers, letting her lead the pace.

“Come on,” he said, voice low, and guided her down the short hallway.

At the bedroom door, he pushed it open ahead of her, stepping aside so she could roll through. The room was simple but tidy, queen bed neatly made, dresser lined with a few scattered belongings, the faint smell of cedar from the old chest against the wall. Across from the bed, another door stood slightly ajar.

“There,” he said, nodding toward it. “Take all the time you need.”

Harper gave him another smile, this one softer, touched with nerves but also trust. “I won’t be long.”

“Don’t rush,” Steve answered.

She wheeled through the doorway and pulled it shut behind her, leaving him alone in the bedroom. He stood by the dresser, running a hand through his hair, his pulse steady but quick. It wasn’t just anticipation, it was the weight of what it meant that she trusted him enough to come here, to step across the line into something more private, more vulnerable.

For Harper, the bathroom light hummed to life, spilling over her as she began to ready herself, knowing Steve was just outside, waiting.

Behind the closed bathroom door, the faint sound of the fan humming filled the silence as Harper wheeled herself toward the sink. Shedding her cardigan, her hands moved with the steady rhythm of habit, unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it from her shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the counter. The flats followed, then her slacks, each piece stacked carefully, as if order could keep her nerves at bay. She undid her braid, combing out her hair, letting it tumble in loose red waves around her shoulders.

When she peeled down her pullups, her breath caught, dry. Relief washed through her chest, easing some of the tension coiled there. She reached into her purse, pulling out the slim catheter kit she always carried, and transferred smoothly to the toilet. Her movements were practiced, efficient, but her mind buzzed, not with the task but with where this night was heading. Ensuring she was empty was one more step of control, one more reassurance that she wouldn’t have to worry about an accident interrupting something that felt so important.

When she finished, she cleaned up, disposed of the diaper discreetly, and reached for the small bundle tucked in her bag. Soft black lace panties, matching the bra she was already wearing, and a pair of sheer black stockings. She slipped them on, the unfamiliar lingerie making her sit a little taller. Not her usual choice, but tonight wasn’t usual. Tonight, she wanted to give.

She rolled back toward the mirror above the sink, catching her reflection. Pale skin framed by red hair that tumbled loose around her shoulders, freckles dusting her collarbones, her body slim but marked by the faint lines and softened contours that came with years of living differently. Her thighs lay still where she adjusted them with her hands, her body framed in lace.

Her heart pounded. Steve had been nothing but patient, nothing but kind. His eyes never wandered in pity, only in curiosity and warmth, but still the question dug sharp at her chest, Will he really want me, with this body? Or is he just being good to me, too polite to show disappointment?

She swallowed, smoothing her hair back with trembling fingers. More than making it special for him, she wanted confirmation, that he truly found her desirable, that this wasn’t charity, that he wanted her.

Her gaze lingered in the mirror, her own green eyes wide, searching. “Okay,” she whispered to herself, voice almost too soft to hear over the fan. “This is me. Take it or leave it.”

With one last breath to steady her nerves, she pulled another small bag from her purse and slipped it into the pocket behind her backrest. She then placed her purse on the counter, adjusted the straps of her bra, and turned toward the door that led to Steve’s bedroom, ready to find out his answer.

*****

Next chapter.