“Can I go with you?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
“We’ll see how you’re doing by then and go from there.”
“Yeah, okay.”
We finish our food in silence, and after his second cup of orange juice, I talk him into drinking some water. He slips on the new shoes I got him, knocking them together while he waits for me to finish watering my plants. He’s still a little wobbly on his feet, but better than when he first got out of bed.
He paces around the living room, grabbing onto pieces of furniture whenever he needs to, and his eyes light up when I grab my keys from the hook on the door while twisting the knob. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” He makes his way toward me, slowing down when he nearly stumbles on his feet.
“Easy there. You’re moving around better but not that much better.”
He laughs, looking at his shoes again. “Yeah, but if I’m being honest, this happens even when I’m not injured and sick.”
I smile. “That you know of. There could have always been some underlying issue there and you just didn’t know it. You’ve never had a checkup before, remember?”
“Yeah. That’s true. But what else could mess up my motor skills other than spraining my knee and getting a head injury?”
“Many things.” I guide him onto the porch and down the steps, my hand clutching his left hip. “Have you heard of neurological disorders?”
“I . . . maybe.” He flicks his eyes to me and then steps carefully forward. “Do you think I have one?”
“I don’t think it would hurt to check it out.”
“Doctor knows best,” he sing-songs.
“I do,” I say promptly, and I lead him through a grouping of trees once we reach the end of the sidewalk on my street. He picks which direction he wants to go in, taking us down the shorter trail.
“That’s probably all you can handle today anyway.”
“Yeah, we have one full week to tackle the longer one.”
“Yeah,” I say, keeping a straight face, not wanting to give away the truth of how I’ll never stop doing what I have to in order to make that week longer. “We have a whole entire week to worry about everything else.”
He leans against me, smiling at the trees and taking in the spring air with a giant whiff. It’s true what they say. Ignorance really is bliss.
Eleven
Sam
He smiles in his sleep. It’s adorable. I stroke his cheek as he wiggles in my lap. We were watchingLord of the Rings, the second movie, and he barely made it forty minutes in. We’d had a busy morning. He woke up rubbing himself on me in bed, moaning and whimpering while needing to relieve some pressure.
My poor sweetheart was hurting in his sleep. He had really neglected himself down there for too long. So had that worthless ex of his. He’s out of the picture now and has his attention elsewhere, but he shouldn’t get to be happy after what he did. After the rejection and hurt he caused. Riley didn’t deserve that.
Some would say he doesn’t deserve what I’m doing now, but they also wouldn’t understand. I want to say I don’t want to be how I am, and that I wish I could be a better person, but after having him here, I only want to be more of what I am. More of what he needs me to be. We both get too much from this. Himas much as me. I see it in his eyes. They’re so begging when I’m about to leave a room, relief flooding them whenever I return.
“Sam,” he says with a soft sigh, rubbing at his eyes.
“Hey, my little patient. My bestest, cutest patient.”
He stretches out, rubbing his face against my stomach. “How long have I been out . . . and wait . . . did you call me cute?”
“Yeah.” I run my fingers through his hair.
“Is that . . . is that all part of the patient-doctor bedside manner? Is this what they taught you in school?”
“No.” I give a half smile. “Not at all. If anything, I shouldn’t have your head in my lap and your cum lingering on my tongue.”
