Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROBBIE
Getting Ames from my truck into my house is like trying to herd a cat… if the cat weighed a hundred seventy-five pounds and was determined to prove he didn’t need help.
“You’re being ridiculous. I can walk,” he insists again.
His bad ankle’s in a boot, his arm’s strapped to his chest, and his skin’s pale from the jarring motion of getting out of the passenger’s seat, which only makes his black and blue bruises more prominent.
“I know you can, Amesie. You’d be running if I’d stop holding you back.” I keep my arm around his waist, being careful of his ribs. “I appreciate you taking it slow to humor me.”
“Seriously. It’s a few fucking steps?—”
The toe of his boot catches on the brick walkway and throws him off-balance, but I have him safe against my side before gravity has a chance to get him.
He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “fucking fuck ” but lets me support most of his weight as we make our way up the front walk, which is probably a sign of how uncomfortable he is.
News flash: Ames Axford is not a good patient.
“The fuck are you smiling about?” Ames demands, glaring at me.
“Oh, I dunno. The warm day? The birds singing?” I give him a look. “The fact that my best friend gets to be alive to enjoy those things?”
Ames grunts. “Well, stop it because you look deranged .” He’s silent for two steps. “Like a golden retriever with a brand-new bone.”
I bark out a laugh. He’s not wrong.
“ Woof ,” I deadpan, and Ames starts to laugh too… before remembering why laughing’s not advisable at the moment.
“Fucking stupid. Who even needs a collarbone and ribs?” he mutters, leaning against me more heavily.
Correction: Ames Axford is the worst patient alive. I don’t know why I find it so freaking adorable.
“Easy,” I say as we approach the steps. “I’ve got you.”
“I know,” he says softly. I look down at him, and our eyes meet and hold for a beat too long.
I clear my throat. “Come on. Five or six more steps?—”
Those few steps are nerve-racking for me and incredibly difficult for Ames. He tries not to show it, but I’m way too attuned to his every wince, flinch, and sharp hiss of breath to be fooled.
When we get in the door, we both head for the couch—the nearest comfortable surface—by unspoken agreement.
I get Ames propped up with pillows behind his back and his feet on a footstool.
I adjust his sling, fetch him a water bottle, and drape a blanket over his legs, even though he insists he’s not cold.
“What else do you need?” I ask. “You can have more pain meds in…” I consult my watch. “An hour and forty-six minutes. I can make you something to eat first. Or you could nap, then eat?—”
“Nap? Fuck, am I someone’s elderly grandmother now?”
“Obviously not. Grandma Axford could’ve run circles around you, even with her walker. I’m just trying to?—”
“I know what you’re doing.” Ames looks up at me, and his face softens. He pats the cushion with his good hand. “Come here.”
I settle a few inches away, careful not to jostle anything.
“Closer.”
I scoot toward him an inch.
He huffs. “Okay, listen. You’re vibrating like a fucking guitar string, and that’s really bad for my collarbone, I fear. I feel it unknitting itself.” He manages to say all this with a straight face.
“That’s not how bones work,” I mutter, but I move another inch closer. It’s weirdly reminiscent of how we were the other night at his apartment, and that makes my heart speed up.
When my sleeve is in touching distance, Ames grabs the fabric and tugs. “Come on. Put your head down a minute.”
“Down… on your lap? Really?”
“Yes. Because I need a hug, but I can’t lift my motherfucking arm, so we’re improvising. Get it?”
I shift down on the couch, which leaves my feet dangling over the arm. I rest my head on his lap, facing him, and put my arms around his waist. This close, I can see his chest rise and fall, reassuringly steady and even. I can smell the harsh hospital soap and the scent of Ames beneath it.
His fingers immediately tangle in my hair, carding it with slow, careful strokes. There’s nothing sexy about this. In fact, it’s soothing in a way I didn’t know I needed… but apparently, Ames did.
“I’m really okay, Rob,” he says softly.
I take a deep breath and feel myself relax a little at a time, which is how I realize just how wound up I’ve been.
Less than five minutes later, Ames’s eyes drift shut, his fingers stop moving, and his hand lies heavily on my head.
I shift position so I can see his face. His head’s tilted back at an awkward angle, mouth gaping open. The stubborn set of his chin’s relaxed.
I press my lips together so I don’t laugh.
I sit there for a minute longer, letting my eyes linger over the hinge of his jaw, and I realize, with a little heart-skip, that I want to kiss the exact spot. I want to know what his stubble feels like against my lips.
Warmth spreads through me instantly, but instead of moving away and finding a distraction, I let myself stay there another minute. And then another. Just breathing in and out. Settling into my attraction for him the way the house settles around us.
I want Ames.
It’s undeniable, and I have no interest in denying it anymore. Whatever it means, whatever it brings, it’s real.
I reach out a finger and trace that place I want to kiss. Ames doesn’t stir, but the little pinch between his eyebrows smooths out.
I move Ames’s hand from my head and press a kiss to his palm before moving away and letting him rest.
I’m in the kitchen, taking stock of my fridge, when there’s a knock at the back door. When I open it, Anna’s standing there in her pink scrubs, carrying a covered dish.
“Frozen lasagna,” she says, handing it over as I step aside to let her in. “I make ’em in batches, so I stopped home and grabbed one out of the freezer for you. How’s the patient?”
“Asleep.” I nod at the arched doorway that leads to the living room, and when she tiptoes around the corner, she smiles.
“Exactly what he needs,” she whispers approvingly. “And I bet he wouldn’t’ve let himself relax anywhere else.” She studies me. “How about you?”
“I’m not the injured one.” Without asking, I get down a mug and grab a coffee pod from the drawer under the machine. Anna mainlines coffee and has since nursing school.
“No, but you had a hell of a scare the other night.” She takes off her jacket and settles into her usual chair at my kitchen table with a sigh.
“It was rough,” I admit. I hand over her coffee—black, because she’s hardcore like that—and lean back against the counter.
She takes a sip, her eyes still on me. “You wanna talk about it? ”
Do I? I’ve been wishing for someone to talk to, and Anna’s safe. She’s been through her own share of shit, and she’d never judge.
“I thought he was dead,” I say, jumping right in.
“When I pulled him out of that building. For a few seconds, I didn’t think he was breathing, and…
everything just stopped. All I could think was that I’d never get to tell him…
that we’d never get to…” I rub the back of my neck, feeling my face heat. “Kiss.”
“Oh!” Anna sits up straight, her tiredness forgotten. “Oh, shit.” Her eyes go wide. “Robbie… really?”
I nod. “I want him, Anna. I want to be with him.” The words rush out, leaving behind a buzz of adrenaline. I run my hand over my mouth and realize I’m smiling. “Holy shit, I just said that out loud.”
Her face breaks into a huge grin. “Kaylee will die . I think she’s been shipping you two for years.”
“Yeah? Well, I wish she’d clued me in somehow. Took me almost thirty years, a fiancée, and a near-tragedy to realize it, myself.”
“Because you’re loyal and stubborn, and glaciers move faster than you do.” She pats my arm. “But the good news is, once you’re locked in, you’re locked in. So what’s the plan?”
“The plan.” I roll my eyes. “Right now, the plan is to get Ames well. That’s as far as I’ve gotten. Beyond that…” I shrug.
“Well, if it helps, I’ve sometimes wondered if Ames had feelings for you. Though, I know, I know, not every gay man is in love with his straight best friend ,” she quotes in a decent impression of Ames’s cranky voice.
“Ha.” I scrub a hand through my hair. “Actually, uh… th e other night, when Ames was in the ER, he was on some pain meds that were making him kinda sleepy and out of it. And he told his mom, ‘It’s always been Rob for me.’” Saying the words makes my face go hot.
“Oh my god ,” Anna squeals. She keeps her voice low, but her eyes are shiny like she’s picturing wedding bells.
I shake my head once. “I mean, no. It’s not…
He was asleep, Anna. And medicated. Who knows if he was talking about how he actually feels, or something he felt once upon a time back in the day and got over, or if he made it all up?
He’s been dating someone, you know? And I…
I’m engaged, at least for now. I probably shouldn’t even be thinking about any of this. ”
I drum my fingers on the tabletop.
Anna lays her hand over mine, stopping my frantic tapping. Her hand is cool and dry. “Are you in love with Lissa?” she asks gently. The tone of her voice suggests she already knows the answer.
I shake my head again, more firmly this time.
“I care about her. A lot. I like her better than any girl I’ve ever dated.
I thought maybe that’s what being in love was, or close enough anyway.
It seemed like she—hell, everyone , really, including me—felt the next logical step was getting married, so I proposed.
But then I started to recognize that a lot of things about our relationship aren’t as good and settled as I’d thought.
And we haven’t really talked about any of it.
We’ve both been kicking the can down the road, so to speak.
I kept telling myself we’d work out the details of our future later, but…
some of those details are pretty damn important. ”
“Like the detail that you love someone else?” Anna squeezes my hand .