Chapter Nine
SIMON
I wake up in a dark room. For a moment, I’m disoriented. The salt lamp by my bed isn’t glowing, and the sheets against my body are smooth and satiny, not the brushed cotton I’m used to.
My face is nuzzled against a sculpted chest, and I struggle to move. Aside from my younger brother (who kicked like a fucking mule in his sleep), I’ve never shared a bed with anyone in my life. As a kid I always hated not having the bed to myself, but this is strangely comfortable.
I’m cozy. Cocooned. Safe, in a way that makes my nerves jangle. I’m not used to feeling safe.
Then the arm around my waist slides down to palm my ass, and the sleeping man against me makes a quiet “hmm” kind of noise. All at once, the events that led me here rush back.
Sebastian. The shortest dinner date in history, the storm, the steamy car ride, and barely making it inside the door of his condo before we couldn’t keep our hands off each other all slam into my brain. Sebastian spanking me, fingering me, wiping away my tears—
“Shut up, shut up. Shut. Up,” I whisper to myself. Thinking about the intimacy of that moment and how warm and gooey it felt is not something I can afford to do. Not something I even want. Intimacy only ever got me fucked in a bad way.
No. So much no.
My heart rate kicks up as I remember Sebastian chasing me down the hall, tackling me to the bed, and making me choke on his cock until he came. And after, when he wiped my face on the black satin sheets beneath me, leaving smears of the cum I hadn’t managed to swallow completely.
Judging from the sore spots on my neck and shoulders, I’ll have bruises from where he dug his fingers in as he held me in place. I hate how my body tingles with anticipation. I want to go home, get a mirror, and inspect every single one of them.
We showered while jerking each other off, collapsed on this bed, and there had been talk of round three.
All I’d needed was a minute to recover. I’d wanted him to fuck me.
I guess instead, we fell asleep. For how long, I’m not sure.
This guy must have the world’s best blackout curtains, because I can’t tell the time of day at all.
My phone buzzes, letting an obnoxious blast of light into our little bubble of darkness. Now that I think about it, I vaguely recall grabbing it before we showered to check my schedule and ensure I didn’t have a shift at Belle Argo Assisted Living in the morning.
“Fuck,” I whisper. Careful to avoid waking the sleeping beast next to me, I roll and grab the device on the nightstand. My phone’s been blowing up while I’ve been sleeping. The first message I open throws me for an actual loop. The rest are even worse.
Unknown: This is Amos from Grub n Grow. Gabriel wanted to tell you that Rebecca had her baby, and also he hopes to see you soon.
A few months after I left home, I went into the feed store where I knew my family shopped and begged the owner to contact me if any of them ever asked about me. Gabe’s the only one who ever did, and I only hear from him once a year or so.
PJ: Guys, I need some help.
Ravi: Let me guess. You’ve finally decided to try sex with a guy, and you need a dildo. I’m happy to be your shopping buddy.
Adam: You want to start small and work up gradually. No matter how adventurous you feel or how much someone dares you. Ask me how I know.
Troy: Idiot tried to sit on a monster and ended up in the hospital getting stitches in his asshole. That’s how he knows.
Adam: One stitch. ONE.
PJ: Jesus, you guys, I’m not fucking around here. I need actual help.
PJ: Christian’s hurt
PJ: Simon, are you on here? You’ve got medical training, right?
PJ: He needs a doctor but he won’t go
I take a breath and tap out a reply. Tell me what happened
PJ: I checked on him and found him on the kitchen floor. He’s got a black eye and a bloody nose, a cut on his forehead. It’s a lot of blood, man.
PJ: The place looks like a war zone. There are holes in the walls and the front door, like someone kicked them.
Fuck. I go cold, and I nearly drop the phone. Though I don’t think about it much, these guys are like my family. Practically brothers. They’re all I have, and one of them’s hurt. Most likely by his own boyfriend, which is another reminder for me how much love is bullshit.
Simon: I’ll be there as soon as I can
Then I remember I don’t have my car. I type the building address into the group chat. Can someone possibly pick me up? I’m kind of stuck RN.
Which is a stupid mistake. I can’t believe I went to a client’s house without a way to leave.
Michael: I’m almost at Christian’s place. I was supposed to meet PJ there earlier, but there’s construction on the 408. Do you need me to turn around? I think I can be there in 20.
Dean: Wish I could help you guys, but I’m in Tampa taking Ella to see your ass.
Dean: Giraffes. I said giraffes. We’re at the zoo. Fucking voice to text.
Ravi: My car is in the shop
Adam: Could we order you a ride?
Simon: No worries, I’ll order a car and meet you at Christian’s
Unfortunately, the app on my phone says the nearest option is thirteen minutes away.
Quietly, I ease out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. A quick search in the cabinets turns up a first aid kit that looks unopened. Since I don’t know what I’m walking into, I figure any medical supplies I can manage will help.
Once I hit the hall, I gather my clothing from where it’s been scattered all across the floor.
I’m trying to stumble into my slacks as quietly as possible when my feet hit a second pair of pants near the bedroom door.
These must be Sebastian’s. When I kick them aside, a jingle tells me his keys are still in the pocket.
Okay, on a regular day, there’s no way I’d consider stealing—ahem, borrowing—car keys from a guy I barely know. But I’m worried about Christian. He could be in real trouble.
My dress shirt is ruined, but it’s all I’ve got now. I’m doing my best with the buttons I have left when I hear a creak in the hallway.
“You’re leaving?”
Knowing exactly who’s standing behind me doesn’t prepare me for the reality of Sebastian standing in the half-dark hall with his hands on his hips.
He’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and an imposing scowl, made more intense by that scar on his left cheek.
Which isn’t something I realized I was into until this moment.
“Yeah, I’ve got—” I clear my throat to get some rusty sound out. “I’ve got an emergency. A friend of mine needs help.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “Is that my first aid kit? And my keys?”
My face gets hot. This looks very much like I’m stealing from him. I wouldn’t blame him for thinking so, especially after I raided his husband’s wallet right in front of his face.
Let’s be honest, it’s not the first dishonest thing I’ve done, not even the tenth. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. I don’t expect Sebastian to understand, but I also don’t want him to look at me like a criminal.
“Like I said. Emergency. I was going to bring them right back.”
“Right.” He grabs the keys out of my hand and walks back into the bedroom. I’m about to go after him to argue or explain, but he returns seconds later, wearing lounge pants and pulling a black T-shirt over his head. He also tosses me a clean shirt.
“I’ll drive.”
For a second, I’m torn. “You don’t have to—”
“You said it’s an emergency. You want to stand here and argue?”
I think about PJ’s text. It’s a lot of blood, man. “No. Let’s go.”
Thankfully, Sebastian drives exactly like a rich guy with ticket money. I fill him in about the situation on the way.
We pull up outside a mossy trailer less than ten minutes later, and I rush inside to find Christian on the floor, holding a bag of frozen peas over his eye.
PJ’s down there with him, trying to clean his face with a wet paper towel.
There’s still a decent amount of blood around his nose and an oozing cut over his right eye.
PJ was right—Christian needs to see a doctor. I get on the floor and start working with the first aid kit.
“I can bandage this cut temporarily,” I tell him. “But you need stitches.” Possibly a head CT or an X-ray. Swelling around the cut suggests head trauma.
“No. No, I can’t.” Christian looks up, pleading. He’s older than me, but his wide eyes and skinny limbs make him look so young.
Sometimes, it’s easy to forget we’re all pretty young. This life ages you so fast.
As gently as possible, I push aside the frozen veggies and cover the cut with several stacks of gauze.
Secretly, I’m grateful to have it covered.
One of the things I learned in nursing school is to sort of mentally separate the wound from the person, but that’s hard to do when it’s my friend.
And right now, I can see my friend’s skull.
“Christian. You need stitches. I cannot stress how much you need stitches.” I don’t want to tell him exactly how bad it is.
He’s already freaked out. “And if your nose is broken, it needs to be set properly, or you could need surgery later. So many things go wrong if a broken nose doesn’t heal properly.
Worst of all, you might wind up not looking as pretty.
Which could be a good thing, now that I think about it.
The rest of us will all make more money if there’s less competition. ”
He manages a smile, which I’ll take as a win under the circumstances. Or a partial win, because he hasn’t yet agreed to seeing a doctor.
“I don’t have much money,” he whispers. “I don’t have insurance. And they’ll want to know what happened. Donny knows some cops. I can’t…” He trails off with a slight shake of the head.
“Why don’t—” I bite off the question before it can get out of my mouth. I can guesstimate how much he makes. Why doesn’t he have the money for a doctor? Probably because Donny took it all. I don’t want to make it harder for him by asking him to say the words out loud.