Page 86 of Man Flu

“Juuuuust about.” He runs off to the kitchen and the cool breeze from his motion makes me want to pull a blanket over my backside, but I’m still scared to move.

Refusing to look up from my arms, the shuffling footsteps return, and a new wind with the scent of his cologne fills the air around me.

A warm cloth is pressed into the crevices and dabbed along every square inch of my rear. Nothing hotter than being wiped by a deliciously hot man who was once interested in me before this shitty situation.

“You’re clean.”

No, I. Am. Not.

He slides my jeans back up to where they belong and runs his hand soothingly along my back. “Feel better?”

“Yes, but humiliated. However, that seems to be our thing.”

“We have a thing. That’s better than nothing, right?”

“It is.” I push myself up, testing out the use of my ass, and it’s like nothing ever happened, except the slightly raw burn from the wax. Everything seems to have calmed down, and I feel much better. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to look at each other normally again.” I’m saying this more on his behalf than mine. I know he’s embarrassed about his situation, but I didn’t have to wipe his ass.

“Probably,” he says. This sucks. I had hope. I shouldn’t have had hope. I knew Logan was a long shot for me. I’m not his type. I’m washed up, not-so-perfect, and busy caring for a daughter. I’m sticking with my thoughts that he could have any woman he wants, even with a flat tire.

He presses his hands into his knee and stands up, letting out a slight groan. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, my back sucks. I’m fine, though.”

“I’ve heard athletes’ bodies hate them after they quit playing.”

“Whoever you heard that from was right.”

“Maybe you should still be playing,” I suggest.

He laughs like I told a good joke, but I was serious. “That’s funny. I’m thirty-five. Even if I didn’t have my accident, I wouldn’t be playing for much longer anyway. Getting back into it now would take too long, and I don’t have enough time left to get back to the place I was at.”

“Do you still love it?” I ask.

“Always.”

“You should coach, then. Do that instead of temping at a woman’s magazine.”

He presses his hands into the small of his back and leans into them. “Are you firing me, boss?”

“No, but you’re meant for better things in this world.”

“So are you, you know?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Right. I don’t even know what I’m capable of besides changing a diaper, cleaning up vomit, and packing a lunch. My job is mindless, and I’m surrounded by a whole lot of stupidity, as you witnessed today.”

“What’s your dream, Hannah?”

I lean into the couch and release a long exhale, remembering back to about a year ago when the only thing I wanted to do was lock myself inside, homeschool Cora, and have everything delivered to my house. While I know that’s not a permanent solution to anyone’s life, it would be nice for just a week.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Never,” he agrees with a grin.

“I want to lock myself inside this house, make it look like no one’s home, and hide from the world. I want to sit in yoga pants all day, eat what I want, and watch as much TV as humanly possible.”

Logan takes a seat next to me on the couch. “That does sound like a dream come true, but that won’t keep you happy forever. Trust me. You’ll be bored in a week. I tried it.”

“Then, just a week of quiet and solitude would satisfy my desire.”