“For basketballs and soccer balls, you perv,” I said, and he grinned a bit. “The kids kept wanting to talk about my leg—which, I mean, you met them. You’ve seen what they’re like. They wanted all the gory details. I have a pretty dark sense of humor, and I’d been cracking all kinds of jokes with my friends while I was in rehab, so I didn’t think it would get to me. But one kid said something… I don’t even remember what it was, but it broke me.”
Creek took a breath, then scrubbed his hands down his face. “I gotta know this gets easier.”
“It does. Therapy helps.”
Creek narrowed his eyes at me. “Nash tell you to say that?”
I laughed. “No. But if he’s been up your ass about it, he’s got the right idea. It sucks, but it also doesn’t. Kent is there for your body, but you need someone to help you wrap your head around it. Our lives have changed. We’ll never, ever get our bodies back the way they were. But that doesn’t mean we’re worse off. It doesn’t mean we’ve lost everything—even if we lose some things.”
Creek bit his lip, then carefully pushed to his feet and offered me a hand. I took it but didn’t use him much to stand, but I liked that I could make him feel useful. He waited a beat, and then, instead of letting me go, he bustled me against the wall.
“Maybe you should be a therapist.”
I laughed. “Fuck no. I’m barely a functional teacher.”
He smiled, then leaned in before freezing. “May I?”
“At this point,” I interrupted, feeling bold enough to interpret his moves, “you don’t need to ask for permission. My lips are yours.”
He closed his eyes, took a breath, then took everything I was willing to give.
The drive took an hour. Creek was silent for most of it, so my only real company was the soft chirping GPS hooked up to his car speakers. He kept hold of my hand though, and while I was a little on edge behind the wheel with only one hand, I let him have it.
I kept my gaze overly focused on the road and made sure I didn’t fuck up driving with my nondominant leg. I still had some trauma and panic in traffic, but having his rough thumb drawing lines over my knuckles was soothing in ways I didn’t expect. Just being near Creek made me feel safe, and I wasn’t sure what the fuck to do with that feeling.
He liked me. He was bi. And he was okay with being bi.
I liked him. And I wanted to trust that he knew himself.
But I wasn’t a lucky man. Things never just worked out the way I wanted. Or the way I needed. What chance did I have that this wouldn’t crash and burn? Eventually, Creek would start healing. He’d start realizing what a goddamn catch he was. And then he might realize that behind all these smiles and all the sunshine that pissed him off so badly was a disaster of a man who had a family who had spent most of his life telling him how worthless he and his choices were.
And he might start to see past the walls and realize that sometimes, I actually believed the crap people said about me.
But this wasn’t about me. Not right now. So I just hung on, and eventually, we were over the bridge and finally turning onto the quaint street where Creek lived.
“Damn. This place is nice,” I said.
Creek jolted, then cleared his throat as he let my hand go to rub his eyes. “Hmm?”
I waved my hand around at the houses. “I don’t even want to know what you all pay for the mortgage.”
Creek pulled a face. “Well, nothing.”
I gaped at him. “I’m sorry? Thefuck?”
He laughed softly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The place belongs to Nash. His grandparents left it to him. It’s been paid off since the seventies, I think. We take care of bills and taxes and all that shit, but he wanted a place where broken-ass guys like me could recover and figure out how we fit back into the world.”
I pulled along the curb—too many cars for me to fit on the driveway—and I gave him a hard stare. “I get why you say that, but you’re not broken.”
“Sunshine—”
“No,” I said. “I won’t be a dick about this. You can feel whatever you need to feel about yourself, but you’re not broken. Not to anyone else who can see you.” He looked unconvinced, so I yanked my pant leg halfway up my prosthesis. “Am I broken?”
“That’s different,” he said weakly.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed his hand a little forcefully, pressing a hot, annoyed kiss to his knuckles. “Ass.”
He laughed, his eyes burning now with unspoken emotion. “You’re beautiful.”
