“What Ryan says.”
“I fucking hate you both.”
He staggers into the living room, sweating like he ran a marathon. Crutches wobbling, robe flapping, and dick out like we want to see that shit. He collapses onto the couch with a dramatic groan and throws his head back like a reality show chick.
“Cover your junk. Ryan doesn’t need to see that. He finally doesn’t have to wash it anymore. Give him a break.”
“Fuck you, Mas. Ryan loves my shit. Almost as much as I do.”
Ryan and I exchange looks. Dude’s not gay. Not even bi. I doubt he wants to see my brother’s shriveled-up dick.
“Pretty sure he doesn’t. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to wipe your ass anymore either.”
Em tries to twist around in his seat to look at me, cusses, and then gives up. His middle finger shoots straight up in the air before catching the cold bottle of water Ryan tosses at him.
“Good job.”
“Don’t patronize me.” Em takes a swig anyway. “I need McDonald’s, a hot Victoria’s Secret model as my nurse, and her tits hanging in my face while she gives me a sponge bath. Not fucking Ryan.”
I shake my head, set my shaker bottle down, and check the clock. Almost time. Sofia’s shift ends in twenty minutes, and I’ll be there waiting like always. She’ll slide in, tired but smiling, with her curls a mess. She’ll touch my arm without thinking, and I’ll want to drag her into my lap right there in the parking lot.
We haven’t gone further than kissing. Hot, hungry kissing that leaves my dick aching for hours after. We make out, but she always, always pulls back. Whispering some line about not crossing it. Not yet. I let her. Because I know it’s only a matter of time. It’s all I think about. Having her alone or with Em doesn’t matter to me. Whatever she wants. If things were reversed and I was hurt, Em taking care of me, he would bend her over the couch and fuck her right in front of me. Probably not give a shit. I should do the same.
Em wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You going to pick up our girlfriend?”
Ryan snorts into his water. This conversation is not new to him. But he’s still not comfortable with us sharing. Not that he’s going to say anything. He’s not like that.
“She’s not—” I start.
“She is,” Em cuts me off as I cross the room to the front door. “She’s mine too. Don’t think I don’t see the way she looks at me.”
I grab my keys. “You can barely make it down the hall without bitching. She’s not looking at you. No one wants to fuck a whiny bitch.”
“I’d like to see you have screws and pins in your leg and have to grow back skin and not bitch about it?” he huffs, crossing his arms, then wincing. Ribs or road rage. Who knows. “You’d cry just about ripping off your dumb mourning tattoos.”
He’s not wrong. He knows the meaning of my tats. Knows how important they are to me.
“Yeah, well. . .” I don’t bother finishing my statement.
He’ll be fine with his babysitter.
I bolt out to the car, throw it into gear, and race out of the driveway. I plan to move things along with Sofia by taking her out for a romantic dinner. She’s always so tired after work that we usually eat at a healthy fast dining place, or she just eats at home and shoves me out. Saying she needs a bath and to call her mom. She’s all work and no fun. I intend to change that.
She’s waiting on the curb when I pull up, looking dead on her feet. The second she opens the door and drops in, she exhales.
“Don’t say anything. I lost a patient today. Died in front of his wife of forty years.”
That will do it. Days like this, I don’t say anything. Don’t reach for her hand. Just drive and let her be. I’m several turns in toward her home, wondering if that’s okay, when she sighs again. When I glance over, her eyes are closed. Her arms are crossed over the seatbelt. Closed off to me and the world. I don’t know what to do on these nights to pull her out. So, I have to just drive her home.
The neighborhood changes around us, from good to not great, until I’m pulling through the gate of her apartment complex. The rattle over the threshold jostles her, and she finally turns to me.
“Just drop me off. I want to be alone.”
Dealing with death or the threat of it takes a toll. There have been some days like this in the last few weeks. Not many, but this seems to be the worst.
“Okay.”
There is an empty space right in front of her apartment. I kill the engine, and she’s already unbuckled, ready to jump out.
