12
Simon
The bridge of Simon’s nose pulsed with a pain so intense, his vision wobbled in time to its beat. With one hand, he held the bag of broccoli to his nose; with the other, he placed his glasses on the floor, then braced himself to sit up. Did it always hurt so badly to have a broken nose, or was he in so much pain because Harlow knew what he was doing?
Maybe it was the broccoli.
At least he wasn’t dead.
Slowly and steadily, he lifted himself from the floor and looked down the hallway. Harlow, honest to god Harlow Warwick, stood in front of Shep’s bedroom door, his hand outstretched hesitantly, as if he was afraid to open it. In all the years that they’d worked together, Simon had never imagined that Harlow would be afraid of anything, much less an inanimate object. But there he was, so strong, and yet so uncertain.
Human.
He’d been a fantasy for so long that Simon had forgotten that beneath his gruff exterior, he was still a man.
“H-Hey.” Cautiously, Simon climbed to his feet. He kept the broccoli against his nose, wincing whenever the clunky clusters inside shifted wrong. “Harlow…”
Harlow looked his way.
“I, um…” Simon took a step forward, but his footing was uncertain, and he stumbled. With a little whoosh of a gasp, he caught himself against the wall, miraculously keeping the broccoli in place. “Whew, that was a close one.” He laughed nervously. “I’m, um… I can let you in. Introduce you. That’s my brother Shep’s room.”
“You shouldn’t be standing,” Harlow said. He dropped his hand then left his position by the door, heading down the hall for Simon. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you push yourself too hard. It’s better if you sit down.”
“Better, sure, but uh, but possible? Not really. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do, right?” Simon kept a hand on the wall, using it as a brace to keep himself stable. His legs trembled with each step, and he was sure Harlow could see, but he progressed regardless. Jayne, Shep, and Evie had undoubtedly heard the sickening crunch as his nose shattered when Harlow’s fist had made impact, and it was highly likely they’d heard him collapse. Simon was fairly certain that he’d heard a door slam while he lay dazed, and that probably meant that Jayne had made a hasty exit to his room to stow Parker away in his crib and stand guard over him.
If his brothers were prepared to defend themselves against a threat, Simon had to be strong enough to talk them down. If Jayne and Shep were hurt because of his inaction, Simon would never forgive himself.
“You’re shaking.” Harlow came to a stop in front of him, effectively forcing Simon to stop as well. Afraid to look into his eyes, Simon set his sights lower. It was a mistake. From the chest downward, Harlow was equally as magnificent as he was from the shoulders up. The plain black t-shirt he wore clung to his figure, revealing the tapered V his torso created as it met his hips, only partially hidden by the safety vest he wore. A brown leather belt with an understated buckle was secured around Harlow’s waist, holding up a pair of jeans loose enough not to be constricting, but tight enough that his figure wasn’t lost. While his style was casual, it was earnest, and it was so uniquely Harlow that Simon’s heart ached.
Was this real life? If it hadn’t been for the way his nose throbbed, Simon wouldn’t have thought so. After years spent talking on the phone, Harlow was close enough to see, to touch, to taste…
Simon shivered. He bit down on his lip, then regretted it—blood had started to crust over on it, and the taste of copper spread through his mouth once more. Nausea struck, saliva pooling in his mouth. He wished he could duck into the bathroom to spit it out, but there were matters at hand more important than his own comfort. Right now, he was the only one who’d be able to keep the peace.
“I’m a little dizzy and I’m not feeling so hot,” Simon murmured. “But it’s okay. I’ve got it. If you could just—”
His mouth opened, but what he’d wanted to say was lost. Thoughts fizzled into nothing.
Harlow had touched his arm.
Unlike the punch, or when Harlow had set his broken nose, this touch caused no pain. Calloused fingers, sturdy in just the way Simon had imagined, traced along his shoulder in a nearly paternal way. Simon’s distressed heart rocketed into his throat, choking out his nausea. A pleasant, tingling sensation swept through him instead, starting in his shoulder where Harlow touched him, then traveling through his collarbone and weaving downward through his ribs. It pooled in his gut, warming his groin.
Harlow wastouchinghim.
Simon stared at his feet, too nervous to lift his head. He was sure if he did, Harlow would see how his cheeks burned.
The bag of broccoli drooped over the sides of his hand, only a few uncomfortable chunks left near his nose to cool it. Simon didn’t mind. Right now he was pretty sure that even if Harlow elected to break his nose all over again, he wouldn’t care.
Why hadn’t he thought to change out of his sweatpants? Soon enough, if this continued, Harlow was going to seeexactlywhat Simon thought of him.
Panic set in. Simon sucked on his tongue, ridding it of its coppery taste as best he could. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? He’d never imagined that he’d actually meet Harlow face to face, and now…
“Unless there’s something behind those doors that you haven’t told me about, I can handle this on my own,” Harlow said in a low voice. It was meant for Simon’s ears only, and the intimacy of knowing it only added to the urgency of Simon’s growing arousal. “You can go sit down while you recover. It’ll be about ten minutes before you’re feeling right again.”
“I…” Simon found space to talk around his displaced heart. “I need to make sure that… that my brothers don’t try anything. I know they heard us fighting in the hall. I don’t want trouble.”
Harlow’s hand didn’t drop from his shoulder. It didn’t stroke, but its presence alone was enough to make Simon’s knees weak. How many times had he imagined this moment? Pictured Harlow, bold and heroic, grabbing him by the shoulders, pinning him against the wall, claiming his mouth, then pushing him down to his knees so he could claim Simon’s mouth in other, tantalizing ways…
“I just…” Simon loosened a stale breath from inside himself that squeaked on the way out. Embarrassed, he closed his eyes. “It’s a bad situation, and I need to make sure it’s right, and—”
