It hurt my heart that he had no family or friends around to fall back on. “I’m here for now.”
“Temporarily. We didn’t discuss if we were exclusive since we based this—” Milo waved a hand between us, “agreement, on mutual attraction and convenience. No need to look for anyone if we can have each other. But I will be out of commission for a few days. Then I’ll still be bruised and ugly.” He lifted one shoulder and gave me an apologetic glance.
“What are you talking about? I’m staying here to take care of you.” Did he think I was an asshole? I wanted to wrap him in blankets and hug the life out of him. I would have to wait until he was dry and feeling better to do that.
“Thank you. I’ll never be able to repay you for that, but you don’t need to be here all the time. So once I’m in bed, go have fun or something.”
The idea of seeking out “fun” when Milo was hurt made me sick.
Yes, I felt responsible for his accident. I distracted him. But it hadn’t been my fault. I’d chosen to come here. I had to tell Milo that in a way he would understand I wasn’t doing it from pity or some ridiculous shit like that.
“Listen carefully. I’m alone in Wendigo Hills. Not counting Troy, who is busy being in love with my sister. I have enough space in my life for one person, and that is you. There’s no one else for me.” I swallowed. “Until the end of summer. Do you understand? I’m here because I want to be here so please don’t take you away from me. Promise me.”
Milo searched my face as if deciding whether I’d meant it, then nodded. “Okay. I promise.”
He dunked underwater, then emerged like a bruised siren, and reached for the soap. Wincing, he washed himself with delicate strokes of the washcloth and rinsed off with the showerhead on the wall.
I wrapped him in two towels and escorted him to the bedroom. He lowered himself onto the bed gently, rummaged in the basket of clean clothes on it, and pulled out a pair of shorts and an oversized Swimming with the Sharks T-shirt.
Once in the living room, we sat on the couch and ordered sushi and ramen for delivery. Apart from the ice cream date, we hadn’t hung out together. Instead of feeling the awkwardness I usually had during hookups, I was comfortable, and hopefully, so was Milo.
He laid back with his legs bent and grimaced but some color was back in his bruising cheeks. He’d be okay. I’d make sure of it.
I ran a finger down his shin and around his ankle. “Put your feet on my lap, if you want.”
He did and wiggled his toes. “You like my feet, huh?”
If he hadn’t been injured, I’d tell him that I appreciated them more than he cared to know. Small and adorable. “I do.” I dug a thumb into the underside of his left foot, along the arch and back.
“This is nice.” He sighed and relaxed against the couch.
“The frames around the house are mostly pictures with one art that reminds me of the cafe logo. I sense a story there.” I kneaded Milo’s feet with a delicate pressure, enough to massage the stress out of him.
“Yeah. When Anabelle and Ethel needed a new logo, they asked me for ideas. So I drew the cappuccino cup with a snake around it for Anabelle being a snake shifter, and the eye floating in it is a cheeky reference to a show we used to watch, and alsofor Ethel noticing everything.” A soft smile graced his face when he spoke about his aunts. “They liked the idea, so it became the cafe’s logo.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It was. They treated me like their son, and even when I was still a teenager, they listened to me and considered my opinions as if they were just as valid as an adult’s. I didn’t realize how unique that was until I talked to my friends and they were shocked at the chill and respectful relationship we had.” Milo wiggled his toes happily and offered his other foot to me. “Did you get along with your parents when you were a teen?”
“I did. Having older siblings, my road with them was already paved. Mom and Dad are free spirits to this day, constantly travelling and trying new stuff, like food or wacky wardrobes. It was easy being a teenager at home where my parents and siblings showed me that being big, hairy, and weird was something to be proud of.” I believed my words, but the prejudice I’d encountered later in life had curbed the enthusiasm about society that my family had instilled in me.
“They sound fun.” Milo looked toward the shelf with photos of him with two people who were probably his parents, and his smile dropped. He reached for the remote. “What’s your poison? Nothing too serious; I want mindless entertainment.”
“Do you like scary movies?” I massaged his feet lazily.
Milo squealed and clapped his hands. “Yes. We can go classic or something I missed in the last year.”
Since his great aunt’s passing, he hadn’t even had the time to relax and watch a movie.
“A new adaptation of Swamp Thing came out lately,” I said, checking out a list of the best horror flicks on my phone. “It should be on streaming by now. I haven’t seen it yet either.”
“Oh that sounds good.” A shiver ran through Milo.
“Are you cold? Can I bring you more blankets? Warm food should be here soon.” The AC was cranked, but if not, the heat from outside would fry us both. His shivers were probably due to his injuries and painkillers.
Milo wiggled his toes. “Socks would be nice. Either from the clean basket or the second drawer. Thank you.” He made a kissy face, and I indulged in a soft, slow kiss, imagining Milo would be comfortable asking me for anything with ease.
In his room, I rummaged in the pile, but found no socks. Okay, one but it was a fishnet thigh-high, so not exactly what I was looking for at the moment. It did provide me with an image of Milo in stockings and nothing else.
