Page 61 of At The End Of The Day

Clearing my throat, I got out the car, rounded the hood, and cautiously opened his, holding my free arm out in case he lost his balance. “Ready?” I grumbled, my mood sinking into darkness. This was exactly how I always felt with Billy. The feelings were there but so was the grief since I knew I was in a dead-end situation. And yet, just like with Billy, as I helped Dash to his feet, his hard body against my chest and my arms around him, I knew I was helpless to do the right thing and walk away.

His brows furrowed, his arm hooked behind my neck. Holding his torso, he jutted his chin. “You okay? What’s up?”

I shook my head and avoided his gaze. “Mm hm. Ready?”

“Yeah,” he said, dragging the word out with suspicion.

I cleared my throat, keeping my sight away from his. Bumping the door closed with my hip, we slowly hobbled around the side of the house, along the paved path, to the front porch. “Slow, slow,” I urged when he grimaced at the first step.

“Ah, shit. Hang on. Just…” He exhaled through pursed lips, his cheeks puffing again. Already coated in sweat, his eyes were turning bloodshot, his complexion almost maroon.

Concern chewing my gut, I coaxed him to lean into one of the columns. When he was steady, I shrugged out of his arm and went to the front door. Pulling open the glass partition, I locked it in place, flipped through his keys, and unlocked the front door. Quickly pocketing them, I strode back to Dash.

“How much you weigh?”

His chin tucking toward a shoulder, he snorted. “What?”

I circled my wrist, my index twirling. “What? One eighty?”

“I mean, I ain’t exactly been able to do much working out while we was in Georgia, so it ain’t exactly my fault I gained weight—”

“Dash,” I huffed, my hands on my sides. For a straight man, he certainly was acting a bit diva-ish right now. “Answer the damn question.”

“Yeah, about one eighty-five. Why?”

“Cuz I bench three ten,” I grumbled, stepped closer, and carefully swept him into my arms. Some of the absolute worst pain ever exploded in my chest, jagged edged bones piercing the sides of my lungs. Crying out in pain, my knees nearly buckled, sweat instantly dripping from my face.

“What the fuck?” he shouted, his voice echoing across the yard. Instinctively clutching my neck, his other hand lashed out, grabbing the column. Gawking, he was ghostly white, eyes bulging as he stared in astonishment.

I chuckled and grunted, having never picked up a full-grown man before. Though he wasn’t as heavy as the weights I lifted, he wasn’t weights. It was much more difficult lifting an actual man, especially in the condition my body was in. Panting, my muscles straining, I wheezed, “Wanna let go?”

He gulped, his Adam’s apple lurching. Peeling his nails from the wooden beam, his arm slid over his stomach, muscles in his face twitching to hide the grimace of pain.

Huffing and puffing, I sidestepped through the door but still managed to bump his shoulder on the frame. He hissed, pain twisting his features.

“Sorry, baby,” I whispered with a pout.

“Fuck.”

I hurried down the hallway, turning right into the other one at the living room’s edge. Going to the end, I kicked open the master suite’s door and stumbled in, practically spilling him onto the bed.

“Mother…fucker!” he bellowed, curling on his side, his sweaty face in the pillow.

“Oh, shit, Dash. Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.” I crouched, ignoring my own aches, and hesitantly rubbed his back.

“Don’t. Ow, don’t…fucking touch me right now.”

Guilt sinking my stomach, I cursed, bounded to my full height, and stomped back to the front door, closing everything up. Before returning to him, I went to the kitchen, hoping there was still something cold to drink in the fridge. It had been a month since he’d been here, all the food was more than likely spoiled, but beer should still be good.

Snagging one, I slammed it closed and rushed for the bedroom, trying to figure out how to move without disturbing the broken bones. By the time I returned, he had managed to roll to his back and prop himself on the pillows against the headboard. My features scrunched, I cracked the lid and handed it over.

He was scowling through thinned lids, hastily taking it.

“Sorry. I thought it would be better.”

“Really? What do you think now?”

Irritated with his attitude, I crossed my arms and widened my stance. “I think had I not done that, your crippled ass would still be on the front porch. You do realize I’m still healing, too, right? Still got some cracked ribs, but I did that to help your ass.”