Chapter 21 #2
“I’m s-s-sorry I d-d-didn’t answer when you c-c-called.
It t-t-took everything to d-d-drive.” Joe was shivering so much he could barely get the words out.
Ice baths were a suffering athlete’s accomplice and torturer at the same time.
Joe used them sparingly, but tonight he’d been desperate for relief.
The hours on the plane, the lack of sleep—he’d reached his limit, he truly had, and if Leslie hadn’t been there…
“Shhhh. Just walk. We need to keep you moving for just a bit more and then I’ll stretch it out. Is it your hip?”
Joe nodded. “Right hip flexor. It’s torn. S-sn-snapped d-d-during the p-performance. I can’t…Leslie, I can’t…”
“It’s going to be okay, I promise. We’ll get through it. I’ll do therapy with you. I’ll take care of you, Joe, God, why didn’t you… Sorry. ”
Joe put his hand on Leslie’s chest to stop him. “Didn’t want to fall apart on you. Fucking hate crying.”
But when Leslie wrapped his arms around Joe and pulled him in tight, Joe let it all go. He cried. He bawled. He was a snotty mess and he didn’t care. Neither did Leslie. He stroked Joe’s back and hair and whispered assurances to him, so calm, so patient. So loving.
Once he had it out of his system, he stepped back and accepted the tissue Leslie handed him. He blew his nose, took off the towel and wiped at his face.
“Let’s get you on the bed and I can stretch you out a little, just a little. Don’t want to overdo it. Did the doctor give you the severity?”
“Grade two,” Joe said, wiping away the last of his tears and sniffling. “And I really want to shower first.” He dropped the rest of the towel and started to pull at his wet boxers but he couldn’t bend over to pull them off. “Les?”
Leslie sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He crouched behind Joe and slid them carefully down. He lifted Joe’s right foot, pulled it off, and then he tried to lift the left and Joe cried out but he freed his foot.
“I’m so sorry, Joe. I’ve pulled my groin but not the hip flexor. I’d imagine it’s a lot worse.”
“I’d kill for a pulled groin right now,” he gasped.
They hobbled to the bathroom together and Joe leaned on Leslie as he got the shower running. Joe stepped in and reached for the soap, but Leslie cleared his throat.
“How about…can you just hold onto the wall and I’ll… Let me wash you, Joe. I don’t want you to fall.”
Joe put his hands against the wall and laughed. “Bet this wasn’t on your list of perfect nights.”
“Stop it,” Leslie said. He lathered up the soap and ran it over Joe’s neck, shoulders, and arms, making sure to scrub each finger, each joint. “You know nothing about my perfect nights list then. Taking care of you, being needed by you, tops my list every time.”
Joe’s eyes burned and he sucked in a shaky breath, thankful he was facing away from Leslie. “Now, you stop it. I’m tired of crying.”
Leslie chuckled softly and then moved to Joe’s legs. He was so careful and gentle, it wasn’t a sensual act at all, and for that reason Joe had a hard time relaxing. He must have tensed up because Leslie placed a hand on his lower back.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah? It’s just…I’m glad it’s you, but it’s…I’ve never had someone bathe me.” He’d never showered with someone in a sensual way either. It was different like this, different than sex, and he just felt so…exposed.
“Before I met you,” Leslie said, rinsing the soap from Joe’s body.
“My first year in the NFL, I had a bad game in Detroit. I ran the ball from the thirty-yard line and when I got hit, I kind of went up and over the two tackles, dropped the ball, and landed on my hands before tumbling over. They rushed me off the field, worried I’d broken both my wrists, and since it had been raining the whole game, I was covered in mud.
The trainer had to strip me down and shower me before we could go in for X-Rays.
Aw-kward. But honestly, he made it fine, talked to me the whole time about his kids and his husband and the time his husband broke his wrist gardening and how he wished he had a much cooler story to explain his injury.
Anyway, I don’t want this to be awkward for you.
I just want to take care of you. Always. Whatever you need.”
As Leslie talked, Joe let himself sink into his touch, let Leslie’s voice lull him into a state of relaxation, and finally, he stopped resisting.
He was hurt, he was injured, he would get better if he did what the doctor told him to.
It would suck, but he would survive this, and his dance career would have to wait.
All he could do was focus on the here and now. With Leslie.
“Everything is better with you,” Joe slurred, his limbs growing weak and his head too heavy to hold up. “Wash my hair? Please, baby?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
Leslie turned him under the spray, giving Joe a chance to get steady on his feet and then he tipped Joe’s head back, supporting him with one arm. Joe stumbled a bit and winced, but he managed to remain upright until Leslie was done.
“Stay there. Let me grab towels.”
Joe pointed to the cabinet where he’d put the ones he’d bought on his trip with Marti and then he sighed as Leslie wrapped him in soft fuzzy towels.
“I got you all wet,” Joe said as Leslie picked him up and carried him to his bed. He was too tired to fight.
“I’ll dry. Here, lay back. Let me stretch this leg.”
Joe held his arms up. “Please, Leslie. Just…please?” He wiggled his fingers. “I can’t keep my eyes open. Can you stay for just a little while?”
“Yeah,” Leslie said, his voice cracking. “Whatever you want.” He looked down at himself and pulled his soaking shirt away from his chest. “I don’t want to get your bed wet.”
Joe groaned. “Just take it off and get in here.” He rolled onto his side and grunted as he tucked his body pillow under his right leg. “Climb in here behind me.”