Broken Hands

"Okay," she agreed, sheathing her phone in her cupholder. "But Dalton...what are you gonna do? You are going to need help." They were driving into the neighborhood now.

Mrs. Holloway looked over at him, true concern in her voice. And definitely some guilt to boot.

"I'll be fine. Really. I'll figure it out." He said. He was hungry and tired, and a little sad as he pondered the lost opportunities of his summer. Adrienne could tell how down he was. She felt terrible.

"Well, look...Dalton. You should at least let me help," she reasoned with him. She was determined to make sure she paid him back now. She had to. "I can come over and help you with dinner and any other things you might need," she said.

Dalton was a little embarrassed to even consider what that might entail. He didn't want to feel babied. But he also had to admit it was kind of exciting to think that this insanely hot woman would come over to his empty house and help him out. Maybe there was a silver lining to all of this?

"Okay, yeah...I guess you can help out if you want. I don't want to inconvenience you, ya know? I could probably get one of my friends to help," he said, trying to be humble in this scenario. It was awkward, to say the least.

"Well, if you're more comfortable with that, that's always fine too. But I'm just next door. So, here...can you get to your phone?" She asked.

"Yeah," Dalton grunted as he was able to shimmy his phone out of his left pocket with his broken wrist hand (it was his right side that had the full broken arm, and this one felt much worse off).

"I want you to put my number in your phone and just text me whenever you need anything, okay?" She said to him, still sounding responsibly concerned for his needs. He was so warmed at her intense helpfulness. She was really cool for being so understanding.

She rattled off her digits and Dalton typed them in with his off-hand, and saved her name simply as MILF (he was the only one that would ever see it). This might've been the Vicodin making him a little loopy, but whatever. He needed something to smile about.

"Okay...thank you so much, it means a lot," he said, as he looked over at her and his eyes ran down her gorgeous body. The car pulled into her driveway.

She helped him get over to his house and inside and then asked if there was anything she could do. He thanked her and said he'd be good for the night.

Mrs. Holloway gave him a final appreciative look, then left to get her daughter down for bed. All of a sudden Dalton was alone in his fucked up situation.

He spent the night feeling progressively angrier at the situation. It was one of those bad luck life moments that everyone has to experience. But the timing was horrendously stupid, that was for sure.

This was supposed to be his fuck around, do drugs, have sex, don't worry about when to wake up, when to go to sleep, or when to be home, summer.

Now it was quickly apparent that it was going to be the take twenty minutes to get dressed, take twenty minutes to go to the bathroom, only wear clothing that doesn't require zipping/buttoning/tying, type of summer. Dalton probably wasn't going to be invited to many parties considering he couldn't drive or hold a beer all that comfortably. Flip cup? Nope. Beer Pong? Probably not. Wild sex with other girls about to head off to college? He'd probably snag a pity fuck or two based on his reputation alone...but he wasn't going to blow anyone's mind like this. All the energy of being 18, sucked up by a universally stupid accident.

Fucking toddlers, he thought to himself. Fucking hero complexes, and he laughed again. The drugs had not worn off.

He ate a very simple Hot Pocket, got a little stoned, watched TV, and then took an irritatingly long time figuring out his bathroom routine.

FUCK. Dalton thought, as he finally began to understand the challenges he was going to face in the bathroom.

The doctor had explained that he would need to keep both casts dry whenever he showered or took a bath. That meant taping bags around his arms or buying some of the fancier shower covers that they made now. He'd have to get on that in the morning.

Tonight he awkwardly showered with his body in the spray and his casts held outside the glass door, moving parts of himself out slowly to apply what little soap he could with his left arm. He didn't want to get the casts wet and get an infection, but he needed some semblance of feeling clean.

After a frustrating, half-successful thirty minutes with three soap drops, and even more grunts from all the uncomfortable contortions he had to hold, Dalton finally gave up.

He got out and dried off and wondered how in the hell he was going to handle washing his hair for the next two months.

After he was dry enough he snagged a large t-shirt and gym shorts, and slowly wiggled his way into both. Anytime his casts caught on something it hurt. Now the drugs were starting to wear off.

He drank a ton of water and peed and then decided to turn in early. It was only nine but his body needed the rest.

What a fucking situation to be in, he thought.

He drifted off to sleep, not wanting to dwell on how bummed he was, or the dull thud of swelling in his limbs.

Across the street in her master bedroom, Adrienne Holloway had already purchased four, rush-delivery, waterproof shower cast covers.

And then, after feeding her daughter, reading some books, and putting her down for bed; she smoked a pre-rolled joint out on her back patio, and snagged her laptop to up the proverbial ante.

"Fuck," she thought to herself. She was strangely impressed as she thought back to what Dalton had done. She smiled and laughed a little. "What a fuckin' champ," she remarked out loud. "I'm gonna spoil this kid."

She navigated back to Amazon and within ten minutes of searching had a Nintendo Switch and the five best games ordered and on the way. There was a fulfillment center right on the edge of town so packages usually made it to the house that next day if they were on rush. She nodded her head decidedly. This felt good. He deserved it.

She enjoyed a glass of wine in the bathtub and after putting enough of her anxious guilt away, she tumbled into her large bed and fell asleep. She had an early morning ahead of her.

That next day, Dalton opened his eyes to the distant sound of the doorbell.

"Huh?" He wondered. He looked at his phone and saw that it was already 11:00. Wow, he really had conked out. Who would be ringing the door on a random weekday with his parents out of town? Probably some package delivery he figured. "Fuckkk," he moaned, as he crawled out of bed and immediately felt the wonky state of his damaged bones.

He headed down the stairs with a huge yawn. When he got to the door he saw the silhouette of a person through the glass window. It looked like a woman.

He checked the peephole and saw the warped version of Mrs. Holloway. She was holding a large bag in one hand and London in the other. She was dressed simply in jean shorts and a t-shirt with her hair down.

Even casual, she always looked delightfully cute.

He opened the door to his sexy neighbor.

"Hi, Dalton! How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Ugh, you know. Groggy. I just woke up," he said, suddenly embarrassed at not having brushed his teeth yet.

"Yeah, that makes sense. I didn't mean to bother you, I just wanted to drop off a couple of odds and ends," she explained.

"Oh, yeah, uhh, come on in," Dalton said, as he began to collect himself. His arms were making their presence known. His fresh breaks hurt.

They walked into the adjacent dining room which flooded out into the large kitchen and living room. The whole house was very open concept. It looked like it had been taken charge of by the cast of Fixer Upper or Property Brothers.

Dalton had always appreciated that his Mom and Dad weren't lame in that way. He definitely had cool parents.

"Well, uh, welcome to my house," he was trying not to wince. His arms hurt. He definitely had an air of wanting to look tough in front of his insanely hot neighbor.

"Yeah! I was here for your parents Christmas party last year," she said, looking around the place. "It's so great!" She complimented.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Dalton remembered the party now. He'd missed most of it due to an unfortunately scheduled HS tournament that played at the very beginning of the break.

"Well, I'm sorry to wake you up...but I wanted to bring over some stuff for you," she handed slid the bag over the dining room table, which they stood beside.

Dalton looked through it, surprised at the gesture.

"Oh shit!" Dalton said, with a cheeky grin. He'd spotted the Nintendo Switch and the various games. He had an Xbox...but probably wouldn't be doing that type of gaming with his arms barely working. But a Switch? He might be able to fuck with that, he thought. What a cool ass lady she absolutely was.

"Damn...is that...?" He asked, already knowing.

"Yeah, I know. But look..." she started, as she touched his shoulder softly, leaning towards him. "I cannot thank you enough, Dalton. What you did was fucking incredible and I wanted to show my sincerest gratitude, okay?" She said in the sweetest, most genuine way. She really did want him to have this.

Dalton couldn't stand what a crush he had on this hot, slightly older woman. She was so damned beautiful in every single way. He found it difficult to keep his cool around her incredible presence.

"Sorry...I probably shouldn't be cursing around you 'cuz you're only 18, but whatever, you're an adult now. I'm sure you aren't that innocent," she joked. He laughed at that. He'd literally been cross-faded in the park that previous day with his friends. He had used a curse word or two.

"Yeah, you're good Mrs. Holloway, and seriously, thank you. That's amazing," he looked through the rest of the gifts and found the shower bags.

"Of course. And remember. Call me Adrienne, seriously. I'm not old. I'm not a 'Mrs.' Just Adrienne," she insisted.

"Okay, well, thank you, Adrienne," he said. He finished with a little grunt from the growing ache.

"You in pain?" She asked, noticing.

"Yeah...I think the Vicodin has fully worn off. I need to head over to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled," he said, simply working through what he'd need next. He hadn't even meant to imply anything.

"Okay, great...well, why don't you text me when you're ready, and I'll drive you over and we'll get it done before your arms hurt too much, yeah?" She suggested, and he couldn't find a reason that didn't make sense. She clearly wanted to help.

He agreed to that plan and she was off again, completely breezy in everything she did.

Dalton shut the door and began the arduous process of getting ready. Everything was difficult. Brushing teeth. Rinsing his face off off. Eating breakfast. Everything took way longer and caused extra pain along the way. This was going to be a real shit-show, he thought, as he went through each step and discovered his severe limitations.

He settled on sweatpants and a t-shirt and some slip-on sandals that he usually used for post-soccer bus rides. He was glad for the summer heat. If he'd had to put on winter clothes he'd have been screwed. Everything hurt.

He texted Adrienne to let her know he was ready.

She was over five minutes later. London was already packed up in the car, singing nonsensically to herself and playing with toys. She stood at his door, wearing some navy yoga pants and a white tank-top with her hair in a simple braid.

"Ready?" She said, already turning to head back towards her car.

Dalton gulped as he saw her round ass accentuated in the yoga pants.

"Good Lord," he said under his breath. Her ass was...very much that. It was an ASS.

He followed her down his steps after locking his door gingerly, and then she was helping him back into her front seat, which they'd already gotten better at.

They drove to the pharmacy and grabbed his prescriptions, and then made a quick stop at a grocery where Mrs. Holloway went in to to purchase some Pop-Tarts, breakfast sandwiches, Lunchables, and other various easy-to-eat, ready-made meals.

"Ya know...you can't only eat this stuff all summer," she said, as they pulled out of the grocery store parking lot.

"I can't?" He asked, laughing. He'd popped a pill the second they left the pharmacy and he was already feeling better.

"No, you can't. Tell ya what, how about you let me come over and make dinner for you tonight?" She asked him kindly. He wasn't going to say no. He was entirely taken with her. She was intensely hot.

"Yeah, uh, that would be okay," he said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He'd already gotten hard earlier after seeing her butt in those workout pants.

An 18-year-old cock was the subject of many and frequent boners, and she certainly hadn't been helping that.

She told him that London went to sleep at 7:30. When he was ready she'd simply walk the baby monitor over and set it up at his house. She knew from past attempts that it had great range out by the pool.

Dalton took another nap that afternoon and ate when he woke up.

Then he did his best to get ready and make the house look semi-presentable.

He heard the doorbell promptly at 7:30. When he went to answer it, Mrs. Holloway was standing there in a loose pink sweatshirt and gray sweatpants that clung to her body quite unfairly. Then there was a pair of barely tied tennis shoes and her white ankle socks socks. She was carrying a canvas bag with a bottle of wine, some groceries, and her baby monitor.

"Hey there!" She said with that signature charm, "How's the neighborhood's newest Avenger feeling?" She asked, jokingly.

"Ughhh...like I'm in the first half of the movie," he replied cheekily. He was getting more comfortable around this stunner because she was so darned nice to him.

"Well that's understandable, you hungry?" She pushed past him into his house. Dalton thought he could smell a little weed on her. That made sense, he reasoned. She seemed like she knew how to have fun.

"Yeah...starving. I've only had junk today," he admitted, closing the door and following her in.

"Toldja!" She laughed. "Okay, I'm gonna whip up some mini-sandwiches and homemade soup," she promptly explained, as she walked into the kitchen area and he took a seat on the island bar stools. She kicked her shoes off and placed them by the door, and then got down to work.

She plugged in the baby monitor and set the antenna up and sure enough, the picture came through perfectly clear. If anything happened or if London woke up, they'd know. With that worry out of the way, Adrienne began to unpack the bag. She had all she'd need to make her ham and Swiss with quince jam, that she'd grown up on; with some tomato basil soup on the side for good measure. The truly genius move had been that she'd brought over two, large Boba straws, so that she could serve the soups in tall cups. This was so that Dalton wouldn't have to lift his hand as often to take a tasty sip.

She made their dinner and and asked if he had a corkscrew as she grabbed a wine glass from a nearby hanging rack his parents kept on a side bar. He told her which drawer it was in and she began to open the wine.

"You don't mind, do you?" She asked. And of course he didn't mind.

"Not at all..." he said, as he stared a little jealously at the bottle. He had planned to do a lot of imbibing that summer.

"Umm," she countered, as she caught him eyeing her expensive pinot. "Do you drink?" She asked, curiously. She'd been 18 once. She wasn't naive. He looked like the type of kid that probably had some drinking experience.

"I definitely drink," he said, flashing a toothy grin.

"Yes, but..." she wheeled around on him as she pulled the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying pop. "Do your parents know you drink?" She had this follow up ready to go as she elongated the word 'parents.' She wanted to help him out but she wasn't going to corrupt him.

"They definitely do. They're very cool parents." He said, and that was the truth. He might not tell them every time he drank or smoked, but they had the appropriate responsibility conversations with him and were generally hip to what he was up to in his social circles. She inspected him as if determining his merit, but decided that she trusted him.

"Okay, well, since you technically saved my daughter from being crushed by the rock from the Lord of the Flies...would you like a glass?" She was already reaching for another. She knew the answer.

Dalton stared at her ripe ass when she reached up for his wide-bowled crystal. It looked so good in her tight, sweatpants. He wondered if she was wearing underwear. He couldn't see any panty lines.

She turned back around as Dalton quickly averted his eyes, and she poured them each a large glass, and then got to work on their dinner.

They talked a lot while she made the tiny, gourmet sandwiches and charred the bread to a perfect crispiness. Then she sliced and diced and seasoned as she prepared the soup.

Dalton had originally thought he would put some TV on, but had opted instead for some chill, lo-fi jams. She seemed into it. It was amazing how well the two of them got along, considering the nine year difference in their age. She seemed so adult to him, but he didn't seem all that younger to her. Adrienne had always felt like she'd never truly grown up. She was a fairly carefree adult that had no interest in considering the meaning of her approaching 30's or what that might entail, especially after the sudden death of her husband. She had fallen into a different groove since then. She was learning to flow with what life had decided to give her. In many ways it was her renaissance.

Dalton got to learn all about her life. How it had been after her husband had died and the grieving process the followed. He took careful sips of his wine and she allowed herself to relax around him.

They ate dinner on the kitchen bar stools and Dalton was amazed how much they seemed to vibe with each other. On numerous occasions she would reach out to touch his knee or arm when she was laughing or shocked by something he'd said. There wasn't anything behind it. It was just how she was. A lifetime flirt that always came off that way. He didn't mind one bit. Neither did his cock.

They ate slowly, and Dalton especially took his time. It hurt to use his arm too much so she set up his left elbow on the counter under a dish towel so he could mostly push his head forward to grab bites. This had basically been the method he'd been using on the couch all throughout the day. It truly was going to be a challenging two months of physical navigation.

It was around 10:00 PM and they'd polished off the bottle and dinner. Adrienne cleaned up the dishes and glasses and Dalton excused himself to go pee, which he achieved fairly quickly thanks to the loose sweats he was wearing.

After finishing in the bathroom Adrienne took her turn.

When she came back out she noticed Dalton had moved over to the couch where she walked over and slumped down a couple seats away.

"Thank you so much for making dinner, seriously...that was awesome. I've felt so hopeless at certain tasks so far," he admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, Dalton, seriously, whatever you need me to do. I'm gonna be here for you, okay? That's our deal, okay?" She assured him, feeling a little wine-tipsy and entirely appreciative.

"Well, you're fucking amazing," he said, showing off the fact that he did indeed cuss.

"I know I am," she stuck her tongue out at him. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Actually..." he started. He looked over towards the TV where the Nintendo Switch box had been abandoned mid-setup.