“Love you both,” he says, then adds, “in very different ways.”
Riley says, “Love you, too.”
I mutter, “Bye, weirdo.”
She slides her phone back in her pocket, smirking at me. “Do we need to go buy you some lube or something?”
“I doubt we’re going to do anything like that,” I assure her.
I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to do something… anything with the three of them. It just seems highly unlikely.
“We’ll see,” she says with a glimmer in her eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kane
Droplets of watertrail down my body as I carefully dry myself off. Everything is healing, but I have no intention of vigorously rubbing a towel over certain parts of my skin until things are completely healed.
Discarding my towel on the vanity, I start the process of unwrapping the garbage bag from my cast.
Showering with it is a pain in the ass. I’m counting down the days until I get this damn thing off just so I can shower like a normal person again.
I nearly fall on my face, not once but twice. Eventually, I’m able to tug on a pair of boxers and sweatpants. I know Abby or one of the guys would help me, but I want to do this on my own.
Having her here this week has been a blessing and a curse. I usually hate having people dote on me, but having it come from her has made it more tolerable.
She hasn’t smothered me, but she has been there whenever I needed her… or just wanted her next to me.
Having her this close is slowly starting to drive me mad, though. She’s right here, but I can’t let myself have her. It’s the sweetest torture.
I grab the bottle of healing ointment from the counter. I don’t need to wear the bandages anymore, but I’m supposed to keep applying the ointment for another week or so.
Despite my best efforts, there’s no way I can reach some of them.
With the tube in hand, I peek my head from my bedroom and into the hallway. I hear distant voices coming from downstairs.
I open my mouth, ready to ask Linc or Wyatt to come help me, but Abby’s name comes out instead.
Who am I kidding? I would rather have her hands touching me than either of the men I consider my brothers.
“Yeah?” she yells back from what sounds like the bottom of the stairs.
“Can you come help me?”
“Coming,” she says.
“Yeah, you are,” Wyatt yells after her.
“Fuck off,” she yells back when she reaches the top floor. She’s smiling when she turns to face me.
Her steps falter ever so slightly as she takes in my bare chest. She swallows, stepping right in front of me.
“What can I do to help?” She’s trying to keep her face blank, but it isn’t really working.
There are a lot of things I want to tell her I need help with, but none of them would be very appropriate. I settle for handing her the ointment and keeping my mouth shut.
“Have a seat on the bed, sir. I’ll get you all fixed up,” she says with mock professionalism.
