He nodded, and without removing his hand from his face, his free one dug his phone out of his pocket. Without looking—which was some serious skill—he typed in his passcode, then handed it over.
“Just nod when I get to the name,” I said. I began to read out his contacts list. Some of them were normal names. Others were clearly Army nicknames like Bean and Booger. But I went through them all, stopping when he stiffened after I read out, “Nash.”
“Him,” he said, voice a rough whisper.
I scooted closer, and Creek let himself rest against me, going almost boneless as I got one arm around him. The call began to ring, and I pushed my fingers into his hair, stroking along his scalp.
His body began to relax a little more, fraction by fraction, and his breathing wasn’t as stiff.
“Hey, bud…” came a voice on the other end.
“Hi, yeah, this isn’t Creek. I’m with him right now,” I said in a rush, feeling like a complete jackass because I had never done anything like this before. “We’re in the restroom at a bar.”
“Uh, excuse my French, but what the fuck?” Nash asked.
I fought back a near-hysterical laugh. “Yeah. So. My name is Heath. I’m?—”
“Point Break,” Nash said.
I winced. I hadn’t heard that nickname in a little while. I much preferred sunshine. “Mm-hmm. That’s me. Anyway, uh, I think he’s having an anxiety attack.”
“Fuck. I fuckin’ knew this was going to happen,” Nash muttered.
“Gets even the best of us,” I said.
Nash went silent, then sighed. “Yeah, suppose you understand. Uh, where you at?” I gave him the name and address of the bar, and he let out a low whistle. “You’re far from me. We’re all the way out in Mill Valley.”
I realized I’d had no idea where Creek lived, and that was over the goddamn bridge and another forty-five minutes if the traffic was good. But considering the way Creek was, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was letting him drive.
“You cool if I drive him home?” I asked. It would be a pain in the ass to drive his car that far, but I could do it. For getting Creek home, it would be worth the discomfort. “I don’t think he should get behind the wheel like this.”
Creek’s head popped up. “You don’t need to.” His voice was a rough, barely there whisper.
I pressed my finger to his lips and gave him a flat stare. “Hush. I can grab an Uber or something on the way back.”
Creek’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t try and dislodge my finger, so maybe not all hope was lost. Maybe this spiral wasn’t about his feelings for me. Or not entirely. I moved my hand, cupping his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into it.
God, I was falling too hard and too fast, but I didn’t want to let go.
“You still there?” Nash asked.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I’m here. I just didn’t want to cross lines, you know?”
“Nah, you’re a good egg. And one of us can give you a lift home if you don’t mind bringin’ his stubborn ass back.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, meeting Creek’s gaze firmly when he opened his eyes again. He sighed but nodded, and I offered him a careful smile. “We’ll see you in a bit if the traffic doesn’t get us first.”
Nash hung up before I could ask for directions, but Creek seemed a little more with it now, so he could probably work the GPS. His cheeks were tinged pink, and after a beat, he turned his face and fixed his gaze somewhere near the toilet that seriously needed a decent scrub.
“This is nasty,” he said.
I barked a laugh. “Yep. I must really like you because I wouldn’t get on this floor for anyone.”
His shoulders hunched, but I caught a smile at the corner of his lips. “I like you too.” His voice was very soft again. “I feel like a damn fool.”
“Yeah, I get that. You’re not one,” I added, in case he thought the worst, “but I’ve been there. My first day back at work after the accident, I locked myself in the ball closet.”
He glanced at me. “Thewhatcloset?”
