Hound’s room was only three doors down and across the hall from mine. I knocked and waited. There was no answer, so I tried the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, I let myself in. Hound was lying on the floor halfway between the door and the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Figured you might need these,” I said, holding up his things before I set them by the dresser.
His gaze darted to me. “Thanks. I didn’t quite make it to the bed.” His words were breathy and pinched with pain. He was putting on an impressive front, but beads of sweat coated his hairline, and lines marred his forehead
“I see that. Can you get on the bed now?” I asked.
“Of course.”
I waited. His arm twitched. A leg rolled to the right.
“Okay, maybe not,” he said.
So much for his bravado. “If I help, can you turn over on your stomach?”
“Maybe.”
It took us a few moments and a lot of wincing and heavy breathing, but we finally managed to roll him over.
Promising to be right back, I hurried to my room, retrieved a bottle of lotion, and returned. Hound hadn’t moved, and his face was still pinched with pain. I squirted lotion into my hands and rubbed them together to warm it before massaging Hound’s neck. His muscles felt so damn tight it was a wonder he could even turn his head. As I dug into the tissue, he groaned in pain.
“Sorry. Let me know if it gets too bad and you need a break,” I said.
He grunted.
I didn’t know if that meant yes or no, but I kept working. Once his neck muscles were loosened up, I started in on his trapezius and deltoids. After his shoulders, I attacked the muscles on both sides of his spine, moving up and down the injured vertebrae. Now that I could see and feel the damage, I gained a whole new respect for the amount of strength and determination it must take Hound just to get out of bed every morning. I dug the heels of my hands into his obliques, before working over his glutes. By the time I finished, the lines of pain had disappeared from his forehead, and the tension seemingly etched in his face had somewhat relaxed.
“Can you get on the bed now?” I asked.
Testing his back, he slowly pushed himself off the floor. “Yeah.” He crawled onto the bed and collapsed on his back with a huff. “Thank you, Mila.”
The emotion in his gaze did funny things to my stomach and made me strangely uncomfortable. Sex had hurt him, so I’d repaired him, that was all. I didn’t want or need the feelings he stirred up when he directed that level of intensity toward me. It made me feel like I’d backed myself up to a cliff. I didn’t have a parachute, and I wasn’t ready to jump.
Uneasy, I looked away and attempted to bring some levity to the situation. “Hey, you gave me orgasms, I gave you a massage. I think we’re even.”
Friends. Just friends.
“Hardly,” he replied, making me wonder if he could read my mind.
Unable to handle the heaviness of his tone, I stepped back. I needed to manage this like he was a client. Something I could deal with. We’d fucked, I’d checked on him, helped loosen him up, and now I was free to go. My job was done.
So, why couldn’t I leave?
Against my better judgment, my feet felt like they were glued to the floor. Wondering what to do, I scanned the room, looking for hints about what made Hound tick. Hints I shouldn’t want or need. He was a friend, but that was all. I didn’t want to lead him on or confuse him about what had transpired between us.
He’s basically a client.
Only I never worked pro bono. My gaze landed on the top of his dresser where two Budweiser glasses stood sentry over a small bottle of CBD oil. “Prized possessions?” I joked, still trying to lighten the mood.
He followed my gaze. “Actually, yes. The glasses were a gift from my little sister… a reminder of why I need to stay clean and sober. I don’t want her seeing me as a drunk morphine addict.”
It was a thread that led to the fabric of his past. I should have left it alone, but instead, I tugged on it. “Is she your only sibling?”
“She’s my only family, really. At least the only family I talk to. What about you? Are you close to any of your family?”
I shook my head. “They were furious with me for leaving the compound, and the reverend doesn’t allow us to stay in contact.”
“That’s fucked up.”
