He was tempted to think that his day couldn’t get any worse, but he knew that was just asking for trouble. It could always get worse.
This was bad enough that he didn’t want to tempt fate.
Eliot rushed to his side, crouching beside him. “How do I help?” he asked.
“Umm.” Danny struggled to think. The pain was making his head throb, which made it much harder to figure out what to do next than it should have been.
“I need a minute,” he said. “And painkillers. And a glass of water. Please.”
Eliot nodded and disappeared, leaving Danny alone again. He hated that. He wanted to hold Eliot’s hand and have him whisper that it was okay, that everything was going to be fine, that Danny was loved and cared for and that it didn’t matter that he was broken.
That was the thing, really. Danny was afraid of Eliot realizing that he wasn’t okay, that he’d probably never be completely okay again. He was afraid that the moment it really sunk in, Eliot would leave.
He was afraid that he was only one more stumble, one more fall, one more drive he couldn’t make away from Eliot seeing how damaged he was and not wanting to deal with that.
At twenty-six, Danny wouldn’t have had time for a boyfriend who couldn’t keep up with him.
Eliot was different, sure, but that didn’t mean he’d never get tired of having to prop Danny up.
It was only a handful of seconds before Eliot was back, pill bottle and glass in hand. He set both on the coffee table and helped Danny to sit on the floor, grabbing a cushion from the couch to shove under his knee for support.
Even in his loose-fitting jeans, Danny could see how much his knee had swollen up. The whole area felt hot and sore, and he knew that if he tried to put any weight on it he’d collapse all over again.
Why did Eliot have to see him like this? Knowing he was injured was one thing, seeing him falter a little was okay, but this? This was proof that he wasn’t okay. That he’d never be his old self again.
Who the hell would want a washed-up hockey player who couldn’t evenstandreliably?
As Danny took the offered painkillers and downed them with a few careful sips of water, he felt Eliot’s fingers tangling in his hair. Petting and stroking. Soothing.
No one had ever done that for him before. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the contact and taking deep breaths to calm down.
Eliot wasn’t running away. That didn’t mean he’d stay forever, or that this incident hadn’t changed his mind about Danny, but at least he wasn’t running away.
“Take all the time you need,” Eliot said softly. “I’m gonna text Ben and tell him I’ll be a little late. I feel like I should be getting you medical attention.”
“You can’t,” Danny said. “I can’t… the final is at the end of the week. If anyone finds out that I really am injured… this is my last chance to come out of a season with the Cup. I have to play. Please.”
Eliot sighed, still combing his fingers through Danny’s hair. “I don’t like this. I’ve never seen someone go so pale so quickly.”
“I’ll be fine,” Danny assured him.
He had to be fine. His options were to be fine, or lose his last chance to make something of his career.
If Walter really had been the source, that was a worse betrayal than telling everyone about him and Eliot. Not that it wasn’t bad—and the idea had probably been to break them up—but to try and take away Danny’s last game was even more cruel. Walter didn’t know he had actual feelings for Eliot.
He probably realized that Eliot cared about Danny, though. Now that Danny looked back, there were a few really obvious signs.
“You’re not gonna leave me, are you?” Danny asked.
It seemed like too huge a question to ask, but he had to get an answer. Eliot would grant him that.
“I can stay,” Eliot murmured, still stroking his hair. “I can get Ben to come here, if that’s okay?”
It wasn’t what Danny had meant, but it was close enough for now. He wanted Eliot near him. As long as he had that, he could cope with not knowing how long it’d last.
Danny nodded. “Of course. My home is your home,” he said, momentarily wishing that was true.
This was what he’d been afraid of. Getting too attached to someone who didn’t feel the same way. He thought that maybe Eliot did feel the same, but he couldn’t be sure.
