“I’ve got it from here.” It’s sticking a rod on the brackets. I’ll have it done before he even gets back to the shop. “Why don’t you relax for a few minutes instead?” I point toward the bed.
“I need to get back down to the store. I left a note on the door saying I’d be back in an hour. That time is almost up.”
“But you’re hurt.” Surely people can wait a little longer for their books.
“Barely. Plus, I’ll be sitting behind the counter. It’s not physical labor.”
I start to argue, then think better of it. He’s got a point. Even if I volunteered to help, he’d have to be there. I don’t know how anything works, so the best I could do is make sure no one steals anything. The only thing I have to offer is showing him that the current task is done and he can check it off his mental to-do list.
Nix limps toward the door, barely putting any weight on his left ankle. I’m concerned, but I can’t exactly hold him hostage up here. At least not easily. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chase.” He holds out the bag of ice to me. I swallow hard, unsure why all the alarms in my body seem to be going off. Can you faint from thinking about the possibility of someone else bleeding?
“Okay.” It’s the only thing I can think to say as I take the bag from him.
Nix limps out of the apartment, leaving me holding the makeshift ice pack.
All I can think is that it wasn’t even on long enough to melt.
6
NIX
“I’m looking for a particular book.”
“Great, I’d love to help you with that. If we don’t have it in stock, I can always order it for you.” I put on my best customer service smile despite my throbbing ankle.
“It’s green with pink writing on it.”
Over the last two years, I’ve gotten really good at hiding my facial expressions when people ask for things like this. It might sound completely ridiculous, but a lot of people ask questions like this. People see covers everywhere. They stick with them, but titles? Those fall out of people’s heads the second after they finish hearing them. Unfortunately, many covers are similar.
“Sure. We can try to figure it out. Let me ask you a few questions. Do you know if the book is fiction or non-fiction?”
I’ve memorized my questions to help narrow down the process. Eighty percent of the time, we can find the right title. In a few cases, even after spending nearly an hour with a customer, I can’t figure it out. There are a few descriptions tucked away innotes in the cash register, just in case I come across the book one day.
After a little bit of chatting, I’ve got a pretty good idea what the customer is looking for. “Absolutely. I think what you want isSelf-Help for Serial Killersby Asia Mackay. It’s a new release, so we’ve got it out on one of the tables. Let’s go look, and you can tell me if I got it right.”
“I can do it.” Chase appears at my side with no warning.
“Are you sure?” I ask through gritted teeth. I don’t want to make a scene in front of the customer, but Chase doesn’t work here. At least not until tomorrow morning. This afternoon was supposed to be Chase-free. After the scene in the apartment, I desperately need it.
“It’s no problem. Mystery section, right?”
I nod, a little surprised that he knows that. It’s popular, but a self-professed non-reader wouldn’t know that. Plus, it’s a bit more niche than some of the other books I have out.
“Right this way. Hopefully, we’ll have you ready to start reading in just a few minutes.” He leads the customer away, making small talk the whole time.
How he does that, I have no idea.
When he’s gone, I let my head fall to the counter. Just for a second, I tell myself. One way or another, they’ll be back in a few minutes.
Chase doting on me upstairs brought up all those feelings I had for him as a teenager. I’d managed to mostly ignore them since he arrived, but with me on the ground, and him hovering over me, it was impossible to pretend that I didn’t have a hundred different fantasies that started that way.
Of course, not a single one of those included an ankle injury.
I had to get out of there. Somehow, I’d managed to keep him from noticing the growing bulge in my pants, but my luck would have to run out eventually. The quicker I got away fromhim, the better. Then I could go home, spend the night giving myself a stern talking-to, and return tomorrow, ready to train him without any dirty thoughts.
Or with minimal dirty thoughts that I kept completely to myself.
Except now the fantasies are multiplying like bunnies in my mind. The way he worried and took care of me was over-the-top and ridiculous, and I think it made me fall a little bit in love with him.
