AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Gently, I took the crutches, laid them on the coffee table, and then slipped my arm around his waist. “Come on, lie down.”
“I need to shower.”
“Later,” I rebuffed gently.
He let me lead him to the sofa, my heart thudding quietly in my chest.
“Easy,” I murmured, hands hovering around him as he lowered.
When he was off his feet, I grabbed some cushions and propped up his ankle. He shoved a pillow under his head, and I covered him with one of the throws we’d brought from our parents’ house.
“I’ll get you some ice for your foot.”
I felt his eyes as I left the room, but neither of us said anything else. In the kitchen, I let out a breath, barely seeing the black cabinets, white countertops, and stainless-steel appliances. After filling a bag with ice, I grabbed a towel and went back into the living room.
He was still beneath the blanket, staring at the TV, which was on.
“That’s too much for your head,” I told him, gently placing the ice down.
He made an impatient sound. “It’s the sports channel, not math.”
“It’s too loud,” I told him, scooping up the remote to lower the volume.
“Now I’m just going to have to concentrate twice as hard to hear it.”
Cursing beneath my breath, I turned it up just a little and then set the remote on the table. His coloring was still pale, the bruises and scrapes on his face standing out and reminding me how close I came to never seeing him again.
The thought created an ache so intense I had to reach up and rub my chest.
“Max?”
“You really fucking scared me.” The words rushed out like a secret, throat clenching as if to keep in the confession, but the fear was so great nothing could hold it in.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”
Unspoken words. Unspoken feelings. They hung in the air around us, creating an awkward thickness that was impossible to ignore. What before seemed so much easier to compartmentalize suddenly seemed too swollen to fit in its box.
Deep inside me, a cage rattled and strained, the metal bars starting to bend and give way.
Beneath my ribs felt jittery and unsteady. The urge to say or do something to acknowledge everything we ignored was palpable.
The sound of my swallow echoed in the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” I whispered, the pain I felt somehow lacing those words.
His eyes snapped up. His beautiful, soulful eyes. If he only knew how much emotion played in those wide caramel eyes. How expressive he was even when he tried not to be. I’d never tell him because I was intensely afraid if I pointed out how much I saw, he would truly figure out a way to hide it.
I needed those guarded but still visible expressions like I needed air. At times, they were the only thing that kept me from shutting down.
“Why would you be sorry?” he asked, fingers curling into the softness of the blanket.
This was dangerous territory, a slippery slope I could not slide down.
Clearing my throat, I took a step back. “That you’re hurt and stuck with me. Win isn’t here.”
“Max.”
“You hungry?” I asked, spinning on my heel to go back to the kitchen. “Thirsty?”
I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, twisting off the cap and carrying it back into the room. After pushing the coffee table closer, I set it nearby. “You can have some meds later, but you need to eat first.”
