His muscles are cramping, which I know is extremely painful for him.
“Han, focus on me, okay?” I coach as I squeeze his thigh, trying to get pressure to the proprioceptors in his muscles so they release. “I’ve got you. We’re almost home, and once we’re there, I’m going to draw you a bath and massage every muscle until your body is loose and comfortable. Then, I’m going to get you into bed and feed you soup, so you’re warm both insideandout. And then I’m going to crawl in next to you and drape myself across your body so my body heat bleeds into you all night long. Okay, baby?”
He moans again, and I know it’s the closest thing to an answer I’m going to get.
When I’m about five minutes from the house, my phone dings with an incoming text, but I don’t bother to look because I don’t want to remove my hand from where it’s currently kneading the muscles in Hanlon’s leg.
It’s probably just Logan sending a thumbs-up emoji.
Or at least that’s what I think until I notice a car in my driveway.
This is Montana, and most of us don’t live in neighborhoods. We have carved out patches of land in random spots along flat roads at the base of mountains. I don’t have neighbors, and I can see my house from a mile away down Route 155.
“Han, you expecting anyone?” I ask.
“No,” he manages to groan.
Begrudgingly, I remove my hand to check my phone and see if that text provides any insight. Most of us out here also have guns, but I’d rather not use one when I could just keep driving. I love my house, but there’s nothing in it worth taking a life over.
Besides, my number one priority is getting Hanlon somewhere warm and safe.
Dad
Do you have plans tonight?
Oh,fuck.
“Han, I think our parents are here.”
When all he says is “Okay,” I press the pedal a little faster and tap the garage door opener. This is going to be a shitshow, but nothing will stop me from giving Hanlon what he needs.
I pull into the garage, not even sparing the people in the parked car in my driveway a glance. I leave my work bag and all the other gear in the backseat and race toward the passenger door.
I hear my dad’s voice grow louder as he approaches the garage. “Well, hello to you, too, son,” he says in a slightly passive-aggressive tone.
“Hey. Sorry. Kinda busy. Give me a minute.” Leaning into the SUV, I quickly rub Han’s ankles and knees, doing some fast but gentle range of motion of the joints before slipping an arm around his waist. “Come on, baby,” I whisper so our parents don’t overhear. “I’ve got you.”
Hanlon tries to extend his leg to step down out of the car, but has difficultly and I catch all his weight. Han and his newly found muscles aren’t terribly light, but I was ready for him.
“Ohmygod!” Lana cries. “Hanlon?What’s wrong,sweetheart?” Swinging her worry toward me, she asks, “How did this happen?” The accusatory tone in her voice makes itveryclear that she thinks this is my fault.
Hell, I guess it is since I let him convince me that going to run that test was a good idea…but to be fair…it was.
“Later,” I grumble, moving him toward the door.
“I’m f-fine. J-just c-cold,” Hanlon struggles to say.
“You arenotfine,” his mom shoots back, following us into the house. Once we’re inside, Lana and my dad try to take over. “Here, we’ve got this,” my dad says, attempting to edge me out of the way.
“Let us get him,” Lana adds.
“No,” Hanlon says, clinging to me as best he can.
“I’vegot him,” I tell our parents. “I’ll be back after he’s settled. Make yourselves at home.”
I get Hanlon down the hall to our room.
Oh, shit. Ourroom.
