“Here you go. Ham, cheese, and tomato.” Ravi slid a plate in front of him. It was basic fare, presented without flourish that, to be honest even to himself, looked fairly unappetizing. Cooking wasn’t his strong suit, but he was doing his best.
“Thanks, Rav,” Harvey said, picking up half of the sandwich. “I’m lucky to have you here to help so I’m grateful to eat anything you serve up.”
“Even sandwiches for dinner?” Ravi sat opposite with his own sandwich. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out and eat?”
Harvey shrugged. “To be honest, I’m happy here. It’s nice to turn the phone off and pretend the rest of the outside world doesn’t exist.”
“Still getting hounded by the press?” Ravi asked. Harvey had been fielding messages and being hassled by his band manager about giving some interviews, ever since the accident. It seemed the whole of Australia wanted the juicy gossip. How had the accident happened? What did it mean for Harvey’s guitar playing future? How did Harvey feel about his brother stepping up and taking his place on the Rocktoberfest tour? How did he feel about missing the tour, being left behind as the band got their big international break?
“They’ll get sick of it soon,” Harvey said, but there was a touch of sadness to his tone despite the nonchalant shrug.
“Here’s hoping,” Ravi said, raising his beer bottle and tapping it against Harvey’s. He really felt for the guy; it couldn’t have been easy being in the situation he’d found himself. Ravi changed the subject and gestured to Harvey’s plate. “Are you managing okay with that?”
“Yep.” Harvey held the sandwich aloft. “I’m getting bloody good at doing things one handed. Luckily, it’s my left hand that’s in the cast, and lucky you haven’t filled this one to overflowing.”
Ravi couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up. They’d stopped and picked up burgers on the way home from Harvey’s doctor appointment the day before. Harvey had learned a very messy lesson thanks to the overload of beef patty, bacon, beetroot, tomato, onion, lettuce, pineapple, and fried egg. “That’ll teach you to order a burger with the lot.”
Harvey grinned. “It was delicious, even if I had to eat it in deconstructed form with a fork and pick half of it off my lap.”
They finished the meal in silence, and once they were done, Ravi gathered the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. “At least sandwiches make cleaning up easy. No pots and pans,” he said as he closed the dishwasher door and turned around. Harvey’s brows were drawn together, his lips a thin line but he plastered on a smile when he noticed Ravi’s gaze on him. “Hey, do you need a pill?”
“Yeah. Toss me the iboprofen will you?”
He grabbed the small bottle from the windowsill and stopped to fill a glass with water before returning to the table and sliding into a chair. “Are you sure you don’t want something stronger? You’ve got the other pain meds the doctor prescribed—”
“Stop it, Rav. We’ve been over this before. I’m not going to take anything stronger. Plus, the pain is heaps better, nothing like it was in those first weeks.”
Ravi frowned but he didn’t argue. He knew full well that insisting Harvey take the stronger pain meds was a lost cause. His mum had developed an addiction to prescription opiates after a back injury, and witnessing her struggle firsthand had turned Harvey off any kind of strong painkiller, no matter how much it was needed. “Okay. You know best.”
He pushed the chair back and stood, but Harvey grabbed his arm before he could step away. His hand was warm, sending a buzz up Ravi’s arm. He swallowed heavily. He really needed to get over his reaction to Harvey’s touch.
“Thanks for everything, Rav. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He plastered on a smile. “No worries. It’s my pleasure.” In reality, he’d do anything for Harvey, but it was so bloody hard. On one hand he’d loved spending so much time with him, but at the same time it scared the living daylights out of him. He’d thought he was over the feelings he used to have, after all, it was years ago and had just been a crush.Hadn’t it?
“Hey, are you okay?”
He blinked, looking down at Harvey’s concerned face. “Sure. Just thinking. How about we get you ready for bed?”
Harvey groaned. “I can do it myself, you know.”
“I know, but why bother struggling when I’m here to lend a hand?”
“I just feel so useless. It takes forever to do even the most basic things.”
Ravi squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
Harvey nodded his thanks as he stood. Ravi watched him leave the room then turned on the dishwasher and flicked off the lights. He stopped by the guest room that had become his new home once Parker had left for overseas, and quickly got ready for bed, before heading to Harvey’s room and knocking lightly on the door.
“Come in.”
Harvey was standing in the ensuite bathroom, freshly showered, and wearing a pair of boxers. He smelled of soap and toothpaste. Ravi took the offered deodorant and gave Harvey a small smile before starting the routine they’d fallen into over the last couple of weeks. First up he sprayed deodorant under Harvey’s good arm, the one he couldn’t reach with his injured arm. He then took Harvey’s hairbrush and grabbed a hair band. “Do you want to do this here or sitting down?”
“The bed, I think,” Harvey said. “I’m dead on my feet.”
Ravi followed him to the bedroom where Harvey sat on the side of the bed. He secretly loved this part of the day—the long minutes he spent dragging the brush through Harvey’s long hair. The wavy locks reached his collarbones, and were often left in a shining curtain, but at other times were caught up in a bun. At night, especially when it was hot, Harvey liked to lift it off his neck and pile it on his head for sleep. Obviously, this was impossible without full use of his hand, so Ravi had taken on the task and relished every minute. It was soothing, and intimate, something he wished he could do forever.
“Mmm. That feels awesome.”
