“Hey!” Spencer said in protest when Patrick grabbed the crutches from his hand.
Patrick walked down to the landing. This time, Spencer was right behind him, hopping with ease - or, more ease than before at least.
“I’ll take those.” Spencer reached for the crutches, but Patrick held them at bay.
“We’re both headed to the train. I’ll walk with you.” He made sure to avoid the H word, remembering what Ryan had said.
“It’s okay. I got it.”
“Do you want to be doing this at the Belmont station?” Patrick asked, already knowing the answer. “I have a free hand. I can he--hold your crutches until we make it outside. I’m not giving you a kidney or anything.”
A few more uncomfortable seconds brought-to-you-by-Spencer passed. It gave Patrick time to glimpse those chestnut brown eyes, melt, and then pull himself back together.
“How about it?” Patrick asked, now worried he was going to be late to work.
Spencer’s stoneface expression loosened up as he considered the offer. Patrick had never seen someone so averse to a little help. He wondered if it could all be chalked up to male ego.
“Okay. I just need someone to hold the crutches on the stairs,” Spencer said. “That’s all.”
“That’s all.”
“Ninety-nine percent of the time, I can take care of himself. I’ve gotten by on my own for a long time.” Spencer dipped his head and shook it off. “We should go.”
“Let’s go.” Patrick held up the crutches and pointed them down the stairs like he was charging into battle. For two commuters about to face the El, that wasn’t an exaggeration.
* * *
Spencer was a fast crutch walker.He kept up with Patrick’s pace as they ventured to the Belmont stop. The sidewalks crowded with Chicagoans the closer they got to the station. They hit the crush of travelers at the turnstiles.
“Did you want to take the elevator?” Patrick nodded at the service elevator for people with physical disabilities, even though he already knew the answer.
“No.” Spencer checked out the busy scene that lay before them. “I did the stairs at our building. What’s two more flights?”
Spencer cracked a lazy half-smile that sent an unexpected flutter through Patrick.
“I’ll go first and hold onto your crutches. Then you can hobble on through. I think that’s easiest.”
The throngs of commuters would make it less easy, and Patrick noticed the hint of nerves crossing Spencer’s face.
“Give me the crutches for a second,” Patrick said.
Spencer handed them over, and Patrick held them straight out on either side of him, forming a tunnel to wedge themselves through the masses. He received plenty of dirty looks from commuters. It might have been different from a car commute in LA, but the rules still applied. Sometimes, you had to go on the offensive.
“Nice,” Spencer said when they got up to the turnstile. Patrick slid his card, heard the beep, and pushed through. He tried to swipe Spencer’s card for him, but that was too much help.
“I got it,” Spencer said with a playful tone.
The Belmont lobby was lined with white columns and screens on either side that showed when the next train was coming. A red line train toward the Loop was approaching.
Patrick turned behind him. “How fast can you hobble?”
“Let’s find out.”
Patrick hustled through the crowd, heart beating in his chest as he attempted to gain El karma and make the train, weaving between globs of commuters. He heard the clickety gallop of Spencer’s crutches at his side. When they got to the stairs, as if they had rehearsed, Spencer handed him his crutches in one effortless move and hopped up the stairs. He tried hopping to the center of the stair, away from the banister, to pass a guy fiddling with his iPhone, but he lost his balance. Patrick sensed it right before it happened. He grabbed him by the sleeve and pushed him forward, like setting a volleyball, giving Spencer momentum to the next step where he could catch onto the banister.
The CTA gods smiled down on them.
“Please stand clear of the closing doors,” the announcer said through the speaker.
