I nod. “Exactly.” I kick off my shoes, adjust my sling, and head straight to the big bed. As I crawl onto the mattress, I push out of my jeans, too, and relax in my boxer briefs.
Troy looks at me, and heat smolders in his eyes. I stretch out, enjoying the familiar sensation of his admiration.
“Getting comfortable,” I say and flip on the cable. “That’s my only job, right?”
He steps forward and snatches the remote out of my hand so fast, I miss the chance to hold it back.
“No screens,” he says as he turns the TV off. “Remember?”
“I’ll close my eyes and listen,” I say. “Come on. You can’t stay in a hotel and not check out the cable. What else am I supposed to do?”
Troy eases back on his heel as he eyes me. “Seems to me there’s plenty to look at.”
I grin, delighted that he’s flirting back, but Troy quickly recovers his scowl.
“Dinner,” he says abruptly. “And rest.”
I don’t object. Even without cable, dinner and another good sleep sound perfect right now.
A few minutes later, Troy has us settled in with a healthy meal. I sit on the bed in my underwear, and he sits in the ugly brown chair, and we both eat salads and sandwiches off our plates in a comfortable quiet.
Miraculously, he gives me privacy in the bathroom when I go to wash up. When I’m back to bed, he takes his turn and returns in his boxers.
Troy quickly crawls in beside me, and his weight on the other side feels warm and comforting. I’ve received so many offers of support from family, friends, and teammates, but I’m glad Troy is the one here with me tonight.
He plops a pillow between us with a huff. “There.”
I kick my foot over his, my ankle over his ankle. He’s already given me careful instructions about how I should sleep on my back undisturbed, but I can’t resist a little contact.
Troy wriggles in his spot, getting comfortable, and then pushes his foot against mine, too.
“Get your sleep,” he grunts.
I grin. “Yeah, Troy. Good night to you, too.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
TROY
“We’ll have essentially three care teams,” I explain to Orlando. I’ve left the car parked in the lot behind his building, where no one will see me dropping him off, and we’re walking down the hall to his apartment, his bags in my hands. “Your physical therapists. Your doctors. And your home care.”
“Okay,” he says with a nod. “Sounds busy.”
I grunt. “Not at first. You won’t start physical therapy or training yet. The home care team will come through today to assess your space and set you up, but after that, you’ll get the quiet you need.”
The agency has collaborated with the Force on his recovery plan, so I know I’m leaving Orlando in the best possible hands. But it still feels difficult to leave him. He’s at a crucial point in his recovery, and if I’m not here, I don’t know how I can make sure he’s safe.
I cast my gaze around as he unlocks his door, trying not to feel anxious about prying eyes. I’m his agent, and professionally, there’s nothing odd about me managing his injury. It’s not far off from what my other clients would expect of me, anyway.
Except that it’s not the same, and that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
We slept in the same bed last night, barely touching, and it ripped at me. My responsibilities as his agent, his friend, his… whatever we are, they’re all mixed up together.
And I’m scared that he’ll lose what I lost.
He unlocks and opens his door, walking in first. “Would have picked up before I left if I knew I was having company,” he says.
I drop the bags. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
