Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
It took him about an hour to get from bedroom to bathroom to kitchen. It took another twenty minutes to sweep the glass into a pile.
Then Coke stood in the hallway, staring at the little splintery, shattery mess.
He hadn’t the foggiest fucking idea how he was going to get it up off the floor.
He leaned against the wall and slid down until his butt hit the ceramic tile. Then he propped his knee against the dustpan handle and used his good hand to sweep the glass in. Go him.
Except now he was down here.
With the glass.
On the floor.
Dillon was going to have a cat.
The thought of Dillon, sleeping in Coke’s bed where he belonged made him smile, eased hurts that went way deeper than something a surgeon could dig at.
“Coke?” Sleepy and rough, Dillon’s voice floated out from the bedroom, as if on cue. “Where are you, babe?”
“Uh… In the hallway.”
Took maybe two seconds for a very naked Dillon to come running, everything bouncing everywhichways. “Coke! Did you fall?”
“No. I was trying to be smart and… Well, you can see how that worked for me.”
God, Dillon was fine.
Just fucking beautiful.
Coke found himself grinning up, tickled pink.
“What are you grinning at?” Dillon was smiling back, though, bending to get the tray with the glass in it.
“You. You look good.” He reached out with his good hand, touched one thigh.
“Yeah?” Those muscles stuttered under his fingers, Dillon gasping and jerking. “You feel good. I missed you, babe.”
“Good.” He let his hand slide in a little, let himself touch.
“Coke. Babe. Let me dump this glass, huh? Before I tip it over on you.” Dillon smiled, the grin as fond as could be. “Then I’ll help you up, and you can touch as much as you want.”
“Works for me.” He chuckled. There was no way he could touch as much as he needed to, not like this.
The sound of glass hitting the bottom of his empty trash can rang out, then Dillon was trotting back to him, sizing up his position. “We’re going to have to get you a trapeze or something for the hall.”
“Oh, now. That would be fun. You could use it to amuse me.” He could just stay down, actually. It was cool, quiet. Glass-free.
“You think I could join the circus?” Dillon did an impromptu back flip, which tickled the shit out of him, since it showcased all that naked…
Coke hooted, slapping his hand on his thigh in applause.
“Ta da! Okay, babe. Let’s get you up. Now, if I remember right from when Sam broke his neck, I have to get you here.
” Dillon had been there for all of that and caught him under the arm and at the hip, levering him up.
It was hard, painful work, and by the time he was upright, he was sweating but good, little lights flashing in his eyes.
“I got you. Come on, babe. Let’s go back to bed, and I can make us some food, and we can both rest.” Dillon sounded out of breath, too.
“Sorry. This one’s a little harder than the last one.” He was five years older.
“I would imagine this is never easy. Stop apologizing, eh?” Dillon got him to his pulleys, got him set right and tight. “What kind of food do you want?”
“Adam said there was enchiladas and King Ranch in the fridge from Granny Taggart. Blackberry cobbler, too. I’d love some casserole.”
Granny Taggart was a queen among mortal woman. Sorta like Missy Gardner.
“I can do that. Gimme five minutes.” Dropping a kiss on his mouth before bouncing off, Dillon whistled all the way down the hall, normal as anything. Just like before, when he’d come to stay.
They’d said a bunch earlier and Coke figured he’d told Dillon stuff he’d never told no one else. Nate and Bax’d call him a fool, but he believed Dillon. He had to. He had for a long time.
Dillon came back with two plates, two bowls and two drinks, all balanced on the ridiculous little tray that had been his granny’s, all painted with flowers. It worked, though, with its little fold out legs.
“Smells good.” He rolled his shoulders carefully, wincing at the grind in his collarbone. “Glad you’re here.”
He knew Dillon couldn’t stay terrible long, but it was Cowboy Christmas.
“Me too.” Those too-pretty-to-be-real eyes met his. “We’re good, right?”
“Yes, cowboy. I got you. You got me. We’ll beat Nattie a little.” Although he knew Nate. Once he explained, that boy would be more embarrassed than anything.
“Okay. I just… I wanted to make sure. I couldn’t stand it if I fucked this up, Coke.”
“Come where I can see you.” He wanted to do this face to face even if they had to move the food.
“Okay.” Dillon crawled across the bed, then knelt in front of him, sort of hovering, moving the tray out of the way.
He reached up, wrapped his arms around his lover, bandages creaking as he stared into Dillon’s eyes.
“You ain’t got to worry. I’m lots of shit—grumpy and temperamental, beat up and not the smartest man you’ll ever know, but I ain’t fickle.
Not one single inch of me. You’re mine now, so you’d best just get used to it. I’m too old to change my mind.”
Dillon stared right back, blue eyes serious as a heart attack. Then Dillon grinned for him, huge and bright and happy. “Good. You always said I was your people.”
“You are, cowboy.” And he was going to have a little prayer meeting with David Donaldson, too, about how a married man ought to keep all his pet names for his woman.
No more Lonnie for him and Dillon. Lonnie. Jesus.
Dillon kissed him again, lips soft and easy on his. “It goes both ways.”
“Good.” He chuckled, fingers sliding down to love on Dillon’s backside. “Anyone ever tell you that you got the prettiest ass in bull riding?”
“I think someone might have. This bullfighter I know, and he actually gets to feel me up.” Dillon moved back and forth, getting more of his touch.
“Lucky bastard.” He relaxed into the pillows, petting happily.
“Yep.” Dillon moved a tiny bit closer, but not enough to lean. “Don’t wear yourself out.”
He just tugged, got all of Dillon’s weight on him, on the right side.
“Mmm. Oh, Coke. Good.” Snuggling in, Dillon stroked his ribs. “I needed this. To feel you all over.”
“Yeah.” The touch wasn’t sexual, not really, but it felt like heaven, just to have the contact, the heat, the pressure against him. Especially on his stupid legs that didn’t want to stay still.
“Shh. I got you.” One of Dillon’s legs slid over top of his, settling them right down. It was like they’d just needed to be told what to do.
“Oh, thank you.” He moaned as his lower back relaxed. “Sweet Jesus. I needed that.”
“Seemed like it. Like all your synapses are misfiring, huh?” Smiling, Dillon kissed his chest, his shoulder, not pressing down, just making him melt.
“Yeah. Things are having to reroute some. Last time? I sprung a happy for nine weeks.”
“Oh, man. I missed that?” Glancing up, Dillon gave him waggly brows. “I thought if you had one that lasted more than four hours, you had to see a doctor.”
“I spent hours packing it in ice. It was fucking ridiculous.”
“Coke. That sounds horrible.” One hand came up to pet his belly, stroking in little circles, just hard enough not to tickle.
“Nate and Coop didn’t think so. They kept buying me scarves for it. I got a whole drawer full of them.” He grinned, chuckled a little. They’d had fun with that.
“Lord. Those two.” Dillon was laughing, though, almost enough to rock the boat, but it didn’t hurt.
“Yep.” He tried to nod again, stopped. “Man, I got to stop that.”
“You do. No hurting. Just learn to say, ‘Ayep’.”
“That’s awful Yankee sounding. I haven’t felt this good since… I can’t remember the number of the bull. It was piss-yellow and mean, though.”
“I’m sorry, Coke. I should have been there. If I hadn’t been so stupid…” Dillon sighed, still petting him.
“Shh. Folks gotta have the shitty parts.” He waited for Dillon to meet his eyes. “You know, so we can have make up nookie.”
“I’ve never had make-up nookie.” Dillon cackled. “I like the sound of it.”
“You’ll probably have to give me a day or three, but I’ll get on it.”
“I can give you all the time you need, babe. If I get desperate, I know what drawer you keep your stash in.”
Oh. Oh, good Lord and butter.
“Dillon!” He was going to set on fire. “I shoulda moved that picture… I… You. I mean.”
Damn.
“Why? I like that you have that. There. Here. Whatever.” Now it was Dillon’s turn to go pink and stutter.
“Yeah. I…” He took a deep breath, grinned. They were idiots. “You know how I look on you. I have from the start. Let’s have our lunch and we can find a movie.”
“Sounds like a plan, babe.” Easing away, Dillon got the tray set up again, right where it was easy for him to reach, the expression in those eyes purely happy.
They were figuring it. Now if he could only get unbroke enough to get back to the make-up nookie…