I stand in the doorway, watching him plead with me. I don’t trust it, or him, but I trust myself even less. Why is he being so nice to me now? He was awful yesterday. When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time, and what I saw yesterday was an angry man mad at the world.
Finally, he nods. “Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
I nod, throwing on a smile I don’t feel and rushing out the door, just begging for some air and space between us. He saw the bruises. The clothes. It’s all overwhelming. I don’t know how to handle this. My focus should be on freedom. I’m on my own for the first time in my life and I want to enjoy it.
Still, as I think that, soft blue-green eyes come to mind. Sad, sweet, and possibly dangerous.
I’m just wondering if he’s the good kind of danger.
It’s takenweeks but we’ve finally got a good routine down. Did Grey fight me for a bit? Of course. That man is as stubborn as he is large—and damn he’s big. Thankfully, I’ve broken him down in the month I’ve been here.
I know he’s also feeling better.
Since that night I got drunk, Grey has made it a point tospend time outside, and his mobility’s a lot better since he knows his limits. It’s been a nightly thing we do, sitting out by the fire outside. As long as he’s relaxing, I let him have his way.
I still need to keep an eye on him. He likes to test my patience and his limits. I had to practically drag him back into the house one day because he wanted to cut wood in the shed. After I went on and on about him slipping with the saw and cutting himself open, he finally conceded. As long as I don’t tell Alyssa when he’s like this, it usually works out in my favor.
My alarm goes off and I get up, slipping on a pair of pajama pants. Grey has refused so far to let me pay him back for the clothes. We did set up a bank account for me, and I have my own money now, so I will be paying him back one way or another. Until I can figure out how to do that without him throwing the money back in my face, I’ve decided to let it go.
I don’t like gifts. Gifts for me have always had an added expectation. No one just gives shit away for free.
Everyone always wants something.
In the kitchen I start coffee. Grey likes his black with just a touch of milk in it, but I think it tastes like motor oil, so he bought me three different kinds of creamer to try, which was really nice of him. We have a routine now, and I feel like everything is getting a bit easier.
After the coffee’s done, I walk into his room and see him asleep. A smile springs to my lips. I don’t know why or where it comes from; I just like being here. I sit on the edge of the bed and gently touch the warm skin of his shoulder. “Grey.” He stirs a bit, stretching. “It’s almost nine.” He blinks awake and then nods and shuts his eyes again.
His doctor prescribed him stronger painkillers for sleeping after he started physical therapy again. They domake him groggier, but he’s not as tired during the day, and he can actually sleep at night. “Ten more minutes.”
I rub his arm, feeling the hard muscles of his biceps under my fingers. His eyes flutter open. “I know, but you have meds to take. I made coffee and I’ll make breakfast, then I’ll set you up on your recliner. You have to ice and elevate it. You were on it too much yesterday.” Between PT, getting groceries, and working around the house, Grey was a restless pain in the ass. The thing is, when he rests, he feels better. But then his frustrating logic tells him that means he can do more. This will only work if he takes it easy. I want his good days to turn into good weeks. Then months. “Come on.” I smile as he shakes his head, and my fingers itch to touch his beard. I don’t know where it comes from. “You have a day spent in your chair to look forward to.”
“No can do,” he says sleepily.
“Uh, yes can do. You have strict orders to stay off it.”
“How am I supposed to do that on your birthday?” He smiles widely, opening his eyes.
What is he talking about? My birthday was a month ago. “My birthday?” Wait. How does he know?
“You told me that night you got sloppy-ass drunk.” He reaches out, squeezing my hand. “I want to make up for it. Give you a good day. I’m going to show the birthday boy a good time.”
And I’m still touching his shoulder. I pull back as his eyes open. “You’re in no shape to show anyone a good time.”
“Felix, the things I can do with the limits I have would shock you.” I swallow. My eyes dip to his chest then trail down his hairy stomach. His hairy, muscled stomach. I feel myself perk up at that. I need to get up and not test the limits of these thin sleep pants, so I stand up. “Fine. Fine. I’m getting up.”
He peels the blankets off, and I hold out a hand and lookat his knee. It’s not as swollen as it was last night. Still hasn’t told his friends, though, which we argue about. Andre and Oli have been here a few times, and even with the warning looks Andre gives him, he still hasn’t told anyone.
Grey stands, then throws his arm around me. Musky and sweet, his warm scent covers me. There’s part of me that’s terrified of the soft heat that fills my belly whenever he’s nearby. Then there’s the other part, the part that wants to lean in and drown in it. We’ve spent the last month in this tentative bubble of almosts.
Sometimes he looks at me, and my own delusion thinks it sees affection sparking in his blue-green eyes when he does. Then again, maybe it’s the painkillers. They do make him loopy.
And adorable.
Since that day he yelled at me, Grey has been all soft-spoken words and careful movements. I haven’t told him what caused my bruises, but I know he’s smart enough to figure it out. Still, he hasn’t asked since that day in the bathtub.
There are days that go by when I don’t even think about my old life. It’s almost like it happened in another timeline, to a different Felix.
When I left, I was afraid that even though I left physically, mentally I’d still be in that home. That the ghosts of my life before coming here would haunt me.
