Chapter 7 #2
“No. Not this time. Sometimes I do it wrong. It’s hell to get old.” He wasn’t going to stress it too much.
“You’re not old. You’re just injured. I’m not going to keep you on your feet; we’re headed to the couch. Just follow my voice.” The touch disappeared. “This way.”
“What is going on?” He didn’t like this. Not at all. “I can’t remember where all the furniture is, and I got bare feet.”
“Bare foot. The other one’s in a boot. What are you worried about? Just follow my voice.”
What was he worried about? Stumbling around in a new apartment and not being able to see? He followed, his lips tight, brows drawn down.
At least it was a little adrenaline rush.
“You’re fine. If you need help, just ask.” Toby’s tone was casual. Nothing wrong here, nothing weird about this situation.
“What’s the game here?” He muttered under his breath. He hated not knowing what he was supposed to be doing.
Or not doing.
How did he break the rules if he didn’t know them?
“It’s not a game. It’s a first step—somewhat literally—in trusting me. Left a little, boy.”
Shit. He needed to remember that this man listened.
He moved left, his heart rate speeding a bit.
“You’re out of the kitchen now. I’m right here if you need help. I’m an arm’s length away.”
“I don’t like this.” He stared through the blindfold, willing it to dissolve, to shatter, then he took another step.
“I hear you. Why not? What don’t you like?”
Feeling like he wasn’t in control here. “I just want to get sat down.”
“Soon. Are you in pain? You have words, you can use them.” Toby did sound close, maybe even a bit closer than before.
“I can do this.” He wasn’t a quitter.
“Of course you can. You can do it all by yourself, I’m sure. But you don’t need to.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. Damn it straight to hell. “Fine. Can you help me out?”
He was fixin’ to lose his temper.
“I can.” Toby was suddenly behind him, one hand under his elbow and the other arm around his back, steering him. “Your pace. I’ll get us to the couch.”
“Thanks.” His breath was huffing from his chest, and he forced himself to chill the fuck out.
He didn’t get this. Not at all.
He just wanted to go back to bed.
“Okay, you can sit, put your foot up, whatever you need to do.” Toby helped ease him down onto the comfy couch. He felt Toby sit with him, at a little bit of a distance.
He took a deep breath. In and out. You have this. You’re fine. You don’t have to feel any sort of way about this shit.
“You did well. How do you feel?”
“Sweaty.” Stupid. He felt stupid as fuck.
“That was hard for you. Do you know why?”
“I’m not great at being frustrated?” He didn’t care why.
“You’re not great at asking for help, either. But I am sure you know this about yourself.”
“Yes, Sir.” That was an easy one.
“I give you high marks for trust though. You didn’t throw that blindfold in my face, and you didn’t seem worried I was going to let you hurt yourself, even though you had no idea why I was putting you through that.”
He still didn’t know. “Can I take the blindfold off then?”
“No.”
He waited for a reason, but he didn’t get one. Just…no.
He had to wonder how long he was supposed to just sit here.
If he fell asleep, it wouldn’t be his fault.
“So. Rules. Today, you ask my permission to do anything that wasn’t already an order from me. That should be simple enough for you to remember. Did you want more coffee?”
“I don’t know. I can be pretty damn dumb.” Totally a lie. He was a sharp cookie. “And yes, please, on the coffee.”
“I’ll grab it. Meds or anything?” He heard Toby’s voice getting distant, moving toward the kitchen.
“No, thank you, Sir. I’ll wait ’til I need them.” He was down to about one every four or five days, and he was fixin’ to save the rest back and medicate with booze.
After a minute he heard footsteps and then Toby pressed a warm mug into his hands. “I refilled it for you. Are you okay? Take a breath. You look a little queasy.”
“I am. I’m solid. My heart rate was up a bit.”
“I’d like to keep it up a bit, but making rules for a brat to break who is in a boot and in a not-insignificant amount of pain is challenging.”
He could hear the grin in Toby’s tone.
“But you’re well-rested now so I want to ask you about your…potential retirement.”
He frowned. “My what?”
Had he said that?
“There was something in your file. That it wasn’t likely you’d be able to ride without significant pain.”
“Yeah.” He really did have a file. Like a real-life file. How weird was that? “The riding won’t be awful, but the landings are going to suck.”
“The club didn’t have all the details, just what they could gain from a background check and references. Realistically, how long before you can walk without the boot?”
“I’m trying to avoid another surgery, so another four to six weeks.” And he might need surgery anyway, but he was trying. He needed medical clearance to ride.
“Okay, and then how long before you can ride?”
“Not until January. I won’t lose my place, but I won’t be riding this season.” There wasn’t any reason to get on a bull, to be honest. He wouldn’t risk himself for a couple of events.
“Good, so if we make it more than seventy-two hours, we’ll have plenty of time to play before you’re on the road again.”
It would have been nice to have been able to see Toby’s expression after a statement like that.
He went for confident. “No one wants that much of me, man. Not even my twin, but we could have a little fun, for sure. You’re hot.”
“You’re literally blind right now, but I appreciate the compliment. You may not want that much of me either, cowboy, but I’m here for whatever you’ve got. You’re absolutely beautiful.” He didn’t hear any of that sarcasm in Toby’s voice. Not a bit.
His cheeks went hot, but he was pleased as punch. “Thank you, Sir. I’ve been in better shape, so it feels good hear.”
“Apart from the leg, I’ve never met anyone in better shape. I do see a reason to stay on your good side.”
Oh no. No, that wasn’t cool.
He shook his head and turned to face Toby, reaching for the blindfold. “I’m a bitch, maybe, but I’m not violent. I don’t hurt people.”
He was a bit of a rough and tumble motherfucker, but he would guarantee, if one of them was going to get into a fight and make you sorry you were born? That was Ry.
He’d defend himself.
He’d play.
He’d push.
But he wasn’t vicious.
“Whoa. Hey.” Toby put a hand over his, stopping him from removing the blindfold. “That was a joke. I was joking. Nothing about you suggests I’m not safe with you.”
“Okay, because I’m not evil. I got limits.” And it wasn’t satisfying to play if someone was scared. The point was being able to let go.
“I never suggested you were evil. Much in the same way your brother never suggested you needed a psychiatrist. You’re pretty defensive; why is that?”
“Who the fuck knows?” It was better than being offensive, wasn’t it?
Toby tweaked his ear, hard. And worse? He couldn’t see it coming. “Manners, brat.”
Oh, he knew this game. “Who the fuck knows, Sir?”
Toby slid a hand over his chest, found a nipple through his T-shirt and gave him a pinch. “You, I hope. You must know. You’re smart, despite telling me you’re not. So why?”
Oh, that stung so damn right. “I don’t know—I damn near lost my twin. I did lose my traveling partner and my best friend on the road. I had a good wreck. That’s enough to put a man on edge.”
Besides, he wanted to know why, when he was the one who’d played in the lifestyle, he was the one who was willing to push boundaries, Ry was the one who found someone who loved him?
Because he wasn’t ever going to become this milquetoast motherfucker who made tea and cakes.
It scared him, bad, how…quiet Ry had become. How he was an outsider in a life that he’d been the one to arrange for Ryder.
“It is enough to put anyone on edge. It’s enough to make you question things. You can be disappointed, but there’s no reason to be defensive. You didn’t have control over any of that.”
He wasn’t sure he even understood what the man was going on about. Disappointed, defensive, aggravated—you name it, he was it.
Toby moved away, he could actually feel the empty spot where the man had been. “Ryder is okay, you know. There are worse things than falling in love.”
“I don’t begrudge him that. Not at all.” He didn’t. He just wished it hadn’t happened the way it had. He wished Ry had been…whole.
“Good. Because he’s happy. It was really obvious to me. Whoever he was once, the man he is now is happy. It’s going to take time to get to know your brother better.”
He wasn’t going to talk about that. He had known Ry longer than anyone on earth. He knew Ry.
“Hm. Well, if you prefer to be silent, that’s fine. I have papers to grade. You will sit right here until I decide what’s next for you.”
He bobbed his head. “Whatever turns you on.”
His eyes were closed anyway. He could doze, relax, breathe and listen to the world around him.
Toby found that nipple again, the twist was quick and hard. “Manners, boy.”
That made his toes curl, and he might have almost grinned.
Almost.