“You doing okay?”
I ducked my head and my face boiled. I couldn’t stop the tongue-tied sensation that kept my mouth closed, but I brushed my damp hair off my forehead. “Yes. I’m all right.”
He pointed at the book beside me on the bed, and I picked it up and laid it down on the table next to the phone. “Brandon got you,” he said with a chuckle.
At that, I smiled at him, and his eyebrows shot up. The warm, fluttery feeling in my chest expanded, and I swore I would be able to float to the ceiling if he just kept giving me caring looks. “He did.”
Drew took a step closer until his knees almost bumped the side of the bed. “You gonna try out that NA stuff?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. I wouldn’t have a way to keep it up outside. Well, maybe if I tried.” Embarrassment wormed through me. Life was so hard. Everything I wanted to do took a lot of work.
“Why not?” The tone of his voice hadn’t changed at all, and I peeked out of the corner of my eye to see what his face looked like, but it was still friendly, not judgmental.
“No car. Transportation can be trickier some days than others.” I rested a hand on the walker. “I have a cane, but I’m not always up for using it, and forget trying to get the chair on a bus. It’s a shitshow.”
He went over to the corner of the room and dragged a chair there closer to the bed before sitting. I was unreasonably disappointed that he hadn’t chosen to sit on the bed with me. He reached over and ran his fingers along the walker and my problem that hadn’t entirely gone down twitched. Fuck, he had solid fingers. His arms bulged out the material of his uniform and I wanted to grab his biceps and squeeze. I knew how much work went into having muscle like that, and I wanted to sink my teeth into the mound, taste what his grit and determination had created.
“You’re using this now?”
Seconds ticked by while I pulled myself from fantasyland and focused on the walker. “Managed.” I leaned my head back against the wall. “It wasn’t far. I probably wouldn’t be able to get from my cell to the cafeteria using it. Not the way I’ve been… well, I haven’t been taking care of myself.”
“But using it is an improvement over the chair, right?”
With a sigh, I shifted around to try to get more comfortable. It sucked explaining the ways I wasn’t like other men to him. If me being a convict and an asshole didn’t scare him off, this would. “That’s not how it works. Some days are just better than others for me right now. I’m not improving. I’m just… existing.” I rubbed at my chest. “They want me to do PT. I might.”
Drew leaned forward, and a thrill shot through me as he rested his elbows on the edge of my bed. “I’ve tried snooping on you, and I didn’t find what I was looking for, so I’m gonna be honest here.”
I tensed and nodded, bracing for the worst. I knew he was about to say he couldn’t help me. I’d have to deal with Tatum Black on my own. I let out a shuddery sigh and struggled to hold on to the excitement of him near me—the pure physical thrill. I’d been afraid of Black finding me for years, and now it was time to just get it over with. I swallowed hard.
“I’m worried about you.” He glanced up sharply.
“Oh.” My body went still inside and out, and I could barely feel anything except my relief.
“What did you think I was going to say?” he asked with a laugh and smoothed down the corner of my blanket.
“Nice knowing you? Figure it out for yourself, you chucklefuck?”
He scooted his chair closer, and his jaw tensed. Carefully he laid his hand on the bed near mine, palm up. I stared for a long while—at least a few minutes. The air weighed heavier around us. Fear scrambled through me. The last time I’d trusted a man…. I slid my trembling fingers to his palm and rested my fingertips against his. He took the last step and clasped his hand around mine.
“I do something like therapy sometimes. People like to talk to me.” His voice was smoother than butter in the half-light.
“Could see that,” I said, and he cupped his other hand over mine. I loved how his warmth surrounded me that way.
“You don’t want to talk.” It wasn’t a question. He studied my face.
“It’s not you. I… open my mouth and terrible things fall out.” I tapped my fingers against his, and he smiled. I was jolted when he wiggled his fingers back… almost like we were teasing each other. I glanced into his eyes, and he was still looking at my face, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Bottom line. This thing with Black wasn’t just because you’re a sexy motherfucker and he has the impulse control of a lobotomy patient. He acts like he knows you.” I tensed, but Drew didn’t let go of me. “Am I right?”
“I can’t talk about it,” I whispered, and hated how scared I sounded. He let out a low, soothing hum and leaned up so he could plant his elbows more firmly on the bed. He raised my hand and brushed his lips to my knuckles. His warm breath and the gentle touch burned into me and made me want to throw myself at him and hide—but I didn’t.
The silence in the room was so complete that I heard his lips smooch against the side of my thumb. I felt like a ghost, broken and old.
He cleared his throat. “What if… I tell you some bad things I’ve done in my life? Then you can decide if talking about the time you spent around Tatum Black… time that would have him knowing your name… is something you can tell me about.” He sounded sad as he spoke, and I didn’t like the shift in him. It wasn’t natural.
“You?” I snorted. “You’re not a bad guy. What could you have possibly done?” I was shocked when I found myself reaching over to brush my hand along his cheek for a second before I settled back and got comfortable again.
“When I was younger, I admired Tatum Black. At first, anyway. I didn’t know him, but I knew of him.”
