It was definitely not the romantic first time I was hoping this would be. I fumbled with him so much, and he had to guide me the whole way. But it doesn’t change the fact that this meant something. That the first time I was touched by another man, itwas him. My eyes get a little hot, and I swallow against a tight throat.
“Hey, are you okay? You look—” He stops and doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s probably going to say I look like I’m about to cry, and it feels a bit like I am.
Biting my lip, I nod, then take the soiled shirt away from him and drop it on the side of the bed. That gives me just enough time to regain my composure so when I look back at him, I’m not about to lose it.
He tries for a smile, and I do my best to match it.
“Will you lay with me?” he murmurs.
I settle against him as careful as I can be. His legs are still up in the makeshift leg rest I made for him, but I give it a quick adjustment before lying back down and letting my cheek rest against his shoulder.
“If this is too uncomfortable, let me know, and I can move to the couch.”
He makes a tiny hum in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be alone.”
My heart does a tiny flip.
“Also,” he adds, “you and I both know that couch is not fit for naps, let alone a good night’s sleep.”
I pinch his side, and he bursts into laughter. “Leave me and my shitty couch alone.”
Leo’s arm shifts under me, and he pulls me close. “I’d rather not leave you alone, if you don’t mind.”
“No. I don’t mind.” Burying my face against his side, I take a deep breath of his skin. He smells a bit too much like the hospital, but he also smells a lot like us.
And that is everything I need in this moment.
I wake up in bed alone, and for a moment, it feels entirely normal. Then I realize I’m not supposed to be alone, and I shoot up, nearly falling on my face when my feet get all twisted in the sheets. Leo isn’t here, and he’s not supposed to be walking, so what the fuck happened!
I manage to make it off the bed without braining myself, and I attempt to both run and hop into my sweats as I fumble toward the living room, where my panic reaches a crescendo before it slams to a halt.
Leo’s there at the window in his borrowed wheelchair with a cup of what smells like freshly brewed coffee.
“Did you make that?” I ask as he stares at me, wide-eyed and almost concerned. My gaze moves to his neck, and I see a little bruise there, which is most definitely my fault.
“There’s more in the pot if you want some.”
I’m normally not a coffee guy, but today calls for it. I slept like the dead, but my limbs feel all heavy and achy the way I usually get after a rough, late-night call. Rolling my shoulders back, I steal another glance at him, then move into the kitchen, where I find the coffeepot at the very edge of the counter.
It must have been a giant pain in the ass for him to make himself something, and now I feel like a massive dickhead because I’m supposed to be taking care of him, and instead, I slept for half the morning.
“Breakfast?” I call as I reach for a mug.
“I’m not really a breakfast guy,” he calls back.
“That’s why you weigh ninety pounds soaking wet. And I’m not body-shaming you,” I add quickly. “You need more protein.”
“You sound like Easton.” I turn to find him sitting in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in a scowl.
“We both know what we’re talking about.” I flex my bicep, and his lips part just slightly before he licks them and turns away. It gives me a huge rush to know that I affect him this way. Sipping on the still-hot coffee, I grimace at the bitter flavor.
I’m a too-many-creams-and-sugars guy, but I don’t have it in me to dress it up fancy, so I pull open the fridge, and my heart sinks.
Fuck.
I was supposed to go to the grocery store so I could meal prep a mountain of food for Leo yesterday, but instead, I took a nap like a loser, and now he’s going to starve to death. I am the worst caregiver in the world.
Leo lets out a quiet whistle. “Your fridge is almost as bad as mine. Aren’t you the station chef?”
