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I didn’t know Jasper, but all it had taken was one night in his comforting presence for him to earn what bit of trust my heart had to offer.
Hopefully, he would prove worthy.
Chapter4
Jasper
Someone needed to take care of Mason, and not just watch over him as he recovered from his concussion.
His tiny third-floor apartment forty minutes north of Boston sat in a run-down building, and I was wary of putting my feet on the filthy treads while traipsing up the stairs. With the elevator out of commission, we’d been forced to use our own energy, of which Mason had little. At least he only lived up three flights, so he hadn’t been too winded by the time we’d arrived at his door. His arm draped over my narrower shoulders, easily done since he had a good six or so inches on me.
Having no clue what Mason did for work, I didn’t judge the man for his shoddy furniture, but his cleanliness left a lot to be desired. Dishes stacked beside the sink. Papers sat atop his small kitchen table. Old shoes were piled in a corner by the front door.
I didn’t make a ton of money working for the nonprofit LGBTQ community house in Malden, but I at least cared for my few belongings.
I took Mason into the bathroom first, gladly giving him privacy after seeing the state of his sink and toilet. Did the man not know cleaning products existed?
While he did his business, I glanced at his bed in the apartment’s only other room across the hallway. At least his sheets appeared clean, even though the comforter lay askew at the footboard.
The bathroom door squeaked, and I turned to assist Mason. He reached for my arm, grasping tightly as though afraid he would fall over without my support.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, realizing breakfast time loomed much closer than midnight.
Mason shook his head. “I would rather sleep.”
“Let’s get you settled.” I led him into his bedroom, and he lowered to sit on the bed’s edge, holding his side where he’d been kicked. While he didn’t have any broken ribs, he would definitely be sore for a few days. “What do you wear to bed?”
Pink flushed his cheeks. “Um…nothing?”
Biting back a grin, I went to my knees to remove his shoes.
Do not look at his bulge. Do not look, you twit.
I managed. Barely. But I couldn’t glance up at his eyes to see if he knew where my thoughts had gone.
Once I’d set his shoes and socks aside, I stood. “Need help with your shirt?”
He peered up at me like a lost puppy and nodded.
At the brush of my fingers over his clavicle while unbuttoning his dark green shirt, he sighed. I had a feeling the man would thrive from being taken care of. And my lonely heart and instincts wanted to look after him in all ways. He seemed to appreciate me. Find me worthy…
I pushed the material off his shoulders, my gaze snagging on a raw scar atop his heart. It almost looked like someone had carved aJinto his skin. All thoughts of my childhood wounds faded at the sight of his mangled skin.
“What happened to your chest?” I asked with a frown, my voice low.
Mason turned his face away from me, his eyes closing. “Accident.”
“It doesn’t look like an accident.”
He shrugged.
I allowed him his secrets, even though his reluctance to tell me the truth stung after what we’d been through together that night. It wasn’t like I reallywashis partner and deserved to hear about what had caused such an injury. God knew I had secrets of my own I would carry to the grave.
One thing I knew for certain—whatever had caused the jagged cut couldn’t have been good.
We worked together to rid his legs of his pants while I refrained from ogling the goods inside his navy boxer briefs that hugged him beautifully in all the right places.
“I’ll keep these on,” he murmured, rolling onto the mattress and curling up on his good side.
