Timothy

  Hathaway House, Book 20

  Dale Mayer

  Books in This Series:

  Aaron, Book 1

  Brock, Book 2

  Cole, Book 3

  Denton, Book 4

  Elliot, Book 5

  Finn, Book 6

  Gregory, Book 7

  Heath, Book 8

  Iain, Book 9

  Jaden, Book 10

  Keith, Book 11

  Lance, Book 12

  Melissa, Book 13

  Nash, Book 14

  Owen, Book 15

  Percy, Book 16

  Quinton, Book 17

  Ryatt, Book 18

  Spencer, Book 19

  Timothy, Book 20

  Urban, Book 21

  Hathaway House, Books 1–3

  Hathaway House, Books 4–6

  Hathaway House, Books 7–9

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  About This Book

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About Timothy

  Author’s Note

  Complimentary Download

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  About This Book

  Welcome to Hathaway House. Rehab Center. Safe Haven. Second chance at life and love.

  With funding problems a nagging issue and completely overshadowing his stay at Hathaway House, Timothy finds it hard to do anything but drive himself forward as fast and as hard as he can—even against doctor’s orders. But he wants to make the most of his time here, and knowing his stay could be rescinded at any moment is an added stress he doesn’t need.

  Savannah became a doctor to help people. Her parents were delighted, until she decided that Hathaway House suited her perfectly. Her parents felt she’d shortchanged herself, had taken an easy career instead of a prestigious one—that she wasn’t driven enough to make a success of her life. Maybe they were right, but she was happy, and surely that should count for something.

  Seeing Timothy push himself to the extreme, as she gently tries to help him destress, brings up fears on both sides and also a need to help each other find that so-necessary balance in life—and maybe, with luck, find each other.

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  Prologue

  Timothy stared at Dani, hating the burning sensation in his eyes, but also afraid to believe what she’d just told him, in case it wasn’t true. “Are you serious?” he asked, as he crashed on his bed. “I can stay?”

  She grinned at him. “We got four months out of them.”

  “Oh my God.” He felt such a relief and a weight fall off his chest, which he’d never expected. When he looked up, a doctor stood in his doorway, the same doctor he’d met many times since. “Dr. Savannah. Apparently it’s official. I get to stay.”

  She looked over at Dani, and the two women smiled at each other. “Yep, you sure do,” Dani confirmed.

  “Now,” Savannah said, rubbing her hands together, “I get to work you to the bone.”

  “Ha, I’m really worried now,” he murmured.

  “You have been,” she agreed cheerfully, “and now that you know what rehab is here at Hathaway House, you should have no problem facing it.”

  At that, he got a little more worried. “The next workouts will be rougher, won’t they?”

  “I’ve got a meeting with Shane next,” she shared. “Four months is a decent amount of time. I would have preferred six. But”—she looked over at Dani—“we’ll do the best we can. And that means you’ll work your buns off.”

  “And that’s okay,” he stated. “I know what a gift it is to stay, and I fully expect to work as hard as I can to make good use of it.” He looked over at Dani. “Thank you again.”

  She smiled. “There’ll be paperwork though. There’s always paperwork.”

  He groaned and nodded. “And that’s fine. I’m happy to do whatever I need to do.”

  And, with that, Dani smiled and waved and disappeared. He listened to her footsteps receding down the hallway.

  The doctor looked at him. Her relief showed in her gaze. “Dani is good at what she does. Now maybe you’ll relax.”

  “Now I can.” He nodded. “Honestly, it never even occurred to me that this scenario could happen. When it first hit me out of the blue, I admit I didn’t handle it well.”

  “You’ve been given a huge gift,” she said. “Now we just have to put it to good use.”

  “Oh, I will,” he declared fervently. “I will.”

  She smiled at him. “In that case, we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Wait. So I’ll see you and Shane about my revised rehab program?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been picking up some new techniques,” she shared. “I want to run you through some more tests, see if we can amplify some of your progress.”

  “Sounds good,” Timothy replied. She just smiled and disappeared. He relaxed on his bed, and—alone for the first time since hearing the good news—he let the hot tears leak from the corners of his eyes, before he wiped them away impatiently.

  “You idiot, no point in crying,” he murmured. “It’s all good. Now to make the best use you can of being here because you never know when this will happen again. So, promise yourself you’ll do this, and you’ll do this well. No more bellyaching, no more whining, no nothing. Just progress and then get your butt out of here,” he murmured.

  And, with that pep talk done, he sent a quick text to Spencer.

  Then Timothy fell asleep with a huge smile on his face.

  Chapter 1

  Timothy Watkins sank onto the edge of his bed and tried to relax yet again. All morning he’d found himself catching his breath and grinning. He was here at Hathaway House, and he could stay. Four months of rehab was a huge gift, but now also a massive stress. Four months was a long time, especially if you only needed three months; four months was a very short time if you needed six. According to Dr. Savannah Porter, she would prefer, much prefer, that Timothy had six months or longer for a full recovery. He much preferred the option of six months too. Could he get an extension? Maybe, but he couldn’t focus on that. Four months was nerve-racking, but, after almost being kicked out, it would do. It would have to.

  He headed to his shrink session and mentioned the news.

  The doctor smiled at him. “Why don’t we not add to our stress by making this something worse than it is and acknowledge what a huge boon this is and focus on that,” she murmured. “The fact that we have this much time is already a major event, and, with any luck, Dani might get an extension for you.”

  “I hope so.” Timothy grinned. “I was wondering about an extension, although now all I can think about is how I must make the best use of every moment I’m here. I’m exhausting myself in the process.” And that needed to stop. He’d been stressed before hearing the good news.

  At that, the doctor looked at him in alarm. “That added stress is not good. Stress will stop your progress. Completely.”

  “And I get that, but I haven’t exactly figured out how to make it not so stressful. Besides, I figured all this physical work would lower my stress levels.”

  She nodded and continued to write some notes.

  He presumed they would be confidential notes, not used against him, yet possibly shared with the rest of Timothy’s team. Yet that only added to his stress. Thus not beneficial either. The only thing that would help would be to see the progress that he needed so desperately.

  Soon afterward Timothy made his way toward his first real training session.

  Shane looked up and smiled. “Hey, how are you doing today?”

  “Feeling stressed, and that adds to the mess of my life,” Timothy admitted, noting that he sounded like a broken record, even to himself.

  “Yet,” Shane murmured, “today won’t be a hard day. However, your leg is in bad shape, and I think one of the biggest improvements we need to bring about is with your core muscles. They play such an important role in so many movements. And I want to see you able to stand and to sit for long periods.”

  “That would be nice,” Timothy confirmed. “Never really thought that I had all these issues, but, from what I saw on the X-rays, things are looking pretty messed up.”

  “The muscles are messed up”—Shane smiled cheerfully—“but they won’t stay messed up.”

  Timothy groaned at that. “You guys are always so positive. I never quite know how to take it.”

  “You take it with a smile on your face and a grace that says you’re willing to do what you need to do to get out of here.”

  “And the trouble is, I feel that I have no time.”

  “I did see a note in your file that you’re feeling stressed about your time here, and that isn’t something that we want you to focus on.” Shane studied him carefully. “It’s really important that you have as low a stress level as possible.”

  “And I don’t know how to make that happen.” Timothy snorted, as he raised both hands. “I feel such pressure to go to the pool every day, that I must practice the exercises in my room alone in the evening, that I must make whatever I can happen as fast as possible.”

  “And that’ll push you further back,” Shane warned. “Let’s focus on what we can. If you overdo
this, you’ll only set yourself back.”

  By the end of the session, Timothy lay on the mat and moaned. “Did you seriously tell me that today wouldn’t be a hard day?”

  “Yeah.” Shane looked over at him in concern. “You feeling pretty rough? If so, you must speak up if something is too far or hurts too much. We need you to go the distance, but that marker is fluid.”

  “That’s not quite the word for it. I might puke.”

  “And that is definitely not good.” Shane stared at him. “You’re supposed to tell me before we get to that point. Remember? You’re supposed to let me know on a scale of one to ten when we hit six because I don’t want you going over six.”

  “But, if I don’t go past six, I won’t get out of here. I need to push past that.”

  “You will get what you need at a rate of six that won’t set you backward. So we’re working at level six to begin with.” Shane studied him in frustration, his hands on his hips, tapping his running shoe on the hardwood floor. “You may have just set yourself back two days in recovery mode instead. … Can you get back to your room on your own?”

  “I hope so,” he muttered. He butt-bumped his way over to the wheelchair. “I have crutches. Maybe I should be using those.”

  “No, I don’t want you on crutches right now,” Shane stated instantly. “Your shoulders aren’t strong enough yet.”

  “Are you sure?” Timothy asked.

  “Talk to your buddy Spencer. Talk to the thousands of others who have experienced our rehab system here. It’ll give you quality of life. The system works, but you have to listen to me. And you have to talk to me. No secrets allowed. I need you to tell me when you’re feeling stressed. And I can’t have you doing too much at the outset. Otherwise it’ll set you back, and we won’t see the progress that you’re so desperate to have. Slow and steady wins the race. We also can’t have you getting sick,” Shane scolded. “So rest for the remainder of the day and early to bed. If you wake up with muscle cramps, let me know.”

  By the time Shane finished up this PT session, Timothy felt pretty badly about the whole thing, which surely wasn’t calming his panic inside. Once he made it back to his room, he was in a full sweat. He wanted a shower, yet he preferred to crash and to do nothing. However, that same urgency rode him. He forced himself into the shower, only to crash on the bed right afterward, covered with just the sheet.

  When a knock came on the door, he was almost asleep. When it came again, he realized they wouldn’t leave him alone. “Come in.”

  Dr. Savannah walked in, concern evident in her expression. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m feeling pretty miserable today.”

  “Shane talked to me about it. We can’t have you overdoing things.”

  Timothy glared at her.

  She smiled. “No, Shane didn’t tattle on you, but we all keep a very close watch on each other and on you.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything,” he protested.

  “Yep, you were,” she said pointedly. “You were trying to be that person.”

  He frowned at her. “What do you mean, that person?”

  “The person who has to be the best and who has to get the most out of this place and who has the most impressive recovery because you did the work, because you put in the effort—so that you don’t feel guilty about wasting your time here.”

  He stared at her nonplussed. “There’s that person?”

  She smiled. “People have a lot of adjustments to deal with when they come here, everything from guilt to almost a lackadaisical attitude of Who cares?”

  “Why would anybody feel that way? Everything that you guys do here is so valuable, and many people don’t even get the opportunity to be here,” he murmured in outrage. “That’s so wrong that people would treat their time here that way.”

  “Ah.” She studied him. “You, by any chance?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore. It’s as if I have been handed that golden egg and then told that you only have so many months to get your life together, or they’ll take it away.”

  “And honestly, four months is quite likely long enough and better than none. What we can’t have is you having such a strong reaction to your deadline that it sets you back. Today’s workout may have lost you three days in rehab, for you now may be forced into recovery mode.”

  “I need to ensure that everybody’s trust in me is not wasted and to do the best I can do here,” he murmured. “Is that so wrong?”

  “No, not so wrong at all. However, it’s all about motivation. Just because you want something really badly, it doesn’t mean that we can give it to you. And, in this case, you really, really want to heal and to make the best use of your time here. Yet if you push too hard, like you did on this first day, it won’t work. In fact, it will backfire.”

  He felt something inside him sagging in place. “Am I in trouble?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Outside of the fact that we’re worried about you? No. It’s not a case of you screwed up, and now you have to go home. Don’t ever think that.”

  He nodded. “Thank heavens for that. I’m afraid that, because I was given four months, it’ll still only be as long as I’m doing what I need to do. As soon as I screw up, I’m out of here, so my spot can go to someone who deserves it more. As if they can save money by kicking me out earlier, then that’s what they’ll do.”

  She shook her head, frowning. “No, that will never happen from our perspective. Still, we’re concerned about your perspective.”

  Something was so intense in that gaze of hers that he almost felt more exposed with her than he did with the shrink. “There’s something about the way you look at me,” he murmured sadly, “as if you’re still trying to figure me out.”

  She shrugged. “Absolutely. I am trying to figure you out because I need to know what it’ll take to make you do the best that you can do without overdoing it.”

  “I don’t know the answer to that myself.”

  “Which is why I’m giving you that look.” She chuckled. “Not because I’ll kick you out.”

  “That’s good because I really don’t think I could handle that or the stress of worrying about it.”

  “Yet you continue to stress, no matter about good news or bad, which will delay any healing. So you must find a way to stop the negative thoughts. Maybe ask your psychiatrist for additional tips, meditation techniques, even a white noise machine. You never know what will work best for you to keep those worrisome thoughts in check. We here at Hathaway House want you to heal, to be the best you can be,” she explained, “but we also want to keep you safe, even from yourself.”

  He nodded. “Fine, I’ll try to pull back.”

  “It needs to be more than a try,” she said sternly. “Pull back, or we’ll have Shane pull you back.”

  He groaned. “Fine. How am I supposed to know when I’ve done too much?”

  “From looking at you right now, I can tell you’ve done too much.”

  Such a calm assurance filled her voice that he didn’t feel as if he were a two-year-old being chastised. “Okay,” he agreed. “I guess it’s possible.”

  “Maybe it’s possible?” she asked, with a look in his direction.

  He groaned. “Okay, fine. It’s probable.” And then he stopped, seeing the same look on her face. “Okay. Okay, I did too much. Is that better?”

  “At least you’re acknowledging that you did it.” She smiled again. “It’s not a game, not some competition, and the repercussions of doing too much consistently can put you back in the hospital. And we don’t want that.”

  “No, I was already there. I don’t want to go back again.”

  “And yet you’re putting yourself there again if you continue on this path. Right now you’re too tired to even go down and get food. Yet your body needs food to heal and to recover from today’s efforts. You need to work on bringing balance into your day.”

  He felt a flush rising up his face. “And here I was hoping it wasn’t that obvious.”

  “It is obvious. You had a shower and collapsed on your bed. Are you capable of getting to dinner on your own or not?”

  He frowned at her. “I’m sure I am capable. I just needed to rest for a bit.” She looked at him for the longest moment, and he felt some of that inner tension twisting tighter and tighter within.