"It doesn't look that way," he said. All evidence seemed to point to it being out of Aaron's control--but that didn't mean he had to accept it wholeheartedly.
He almost, almost fought that grip, the same way he had the night before, but he didn't. He didn't like it, but he knew when it made sense to reject help and when it didn't. He still tried to support his own weight as much as possible, however, unwilling to rest his full weight on him. He tensed as the simple act of walking pulled hard on the stitches. How pathetic that he couldn't even make it as far as the bedroom unaided.