Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
NASH
It wasn’t a date.
It. Was. Not. A. Date.
Apparently, I needed to remind myself of that because somehow, I was standing in front of the meager contents of my closet, debating which button-down shirt to wear as if I were a high schooler dressing for a first date.
The options were depressing. There was no other word for it. My shirts were either black, gray, or navy blue. I’d known I hated shopping, but had I really been in such a piss-poor mood every single time that I hadn’t even considered brighter colors?
My slacks weren’t much better, which was proof of how rarely I dressed up because who the fuck wore a black shirt with black slacks?
It wasn’t a goddamn funeral. It also wasn’t a date, so maybe I should stop obsessing over my outfit.
It wasn’t like I even had dress shoes to go with it, regardless of which variation of depressed and-or mourning I chose.
With a deep sigh, I turned toward the stack of jeans and cargo pants. A nice pair of jeans would work, right? Since it wasn’t a date.
Though even if it had been, dressing up would be a farce. The poor guy would only end up horribly disappointed and disillusioned if he discovered what I wore every day. Hint: slacks and button-down shirts were not on the list.
I selected a white Nike T-shirt and a pair of jeans. After putting them on, I checked myself in the mirror. White? What the fuck was I thinking? If I spilled food on it, I’d look like an idiot in front of my date.
I clenched my teeth. Not a date, dammit. Not. A. Date.
Still, the white shirt had to go. I had a green Queen tour shirt that I’d found at a vintage shop Dayton had dragged me into a few weeks prior.
While music wasn’t a particular passion of mine, I did love Queen’s music, and Freddy Mercury had not only been crazy talented but also a queer icon.
As a statement, it would send the right signal.
Combined with black sneakers, I looked…okay. Not super hot or sexy, but it would have to do. I wasn’t sure what Forest would wear, and the last thing I wanted was to make him feel underdressed. Better for him to shine than me.
I checked my watch. At least I was right on time, as usual.
My years in the Army had instilled me with an innate sense of time, even without a watch.
I could usually guess what time it was within a fifteen-minute accuracy.
A completely useless skill in civilian life, obviously, but a neat one nonetheless.
When I came down the stairs, Forest was just leaving his room.
Like me, he’d opted for casual, and I let out a sigh of relief.
He looked much better in his simple baby-blue shirt and tight jeans than I did, but that wasn’t hard when you were blessed with his cuteness.
I was many things, but cute wasn’t an adjective often used to describe me.
“You ready?”
One day, I would have the same smooth words and quick-wittedness I had with everyone else with him, but today was not that day. For some reason, my tongue always felt heavy around Forest, awkward. The words never flowed out as easily as they did with anyone else. It annoyed the fuck out of me.
He nodded. “Where are we going?”
“An Italian place called Donatella’s. They serve the most amazing homemade meatballs you’ve ever had in your life.”
His eyes lit up, and something in my chest cracked wide open. “I love Italian food.”
I mentally filed that away. Forest was always so damn polite that it wasn’t always easy to tell what his favorites were. “Glad to hear that.” I gestured to the front door. “Lead the way.”
He hesitated, looking back at his room. “I’m not sure if I should bring my cane. I don’t…” He bit his lip. “I don’t like it, but I also don’t want to fall.”
“You can, of course, but you can also take my arm. Happy to help keep you steady.” That offer was, of course, made for no other reason than a genuine desire to help him. Obviously, the fact that I really liked touching him had nothing to do with it.
He looked up at me, those gorgeous moss-green eyes soft. “Thank you. I think… I think I’d like that option better.”
So did I.
I slipped past him to open the door, then held out my arm.
He took it without hesitation, waiting for me to lock the door behind us once we’d stepped outside.
And yes, I did like the way he held on to me, light but with enough pressure that I was acutely aware of where his fingers touched me, where the warmth of his skin traveled through me, like touching a heat source that lit up my entire body.
So if I went a little slower than I otherwise would have, that was to make sure Forest was safe and didn’t trip. Not because I wanted to let his hand linger on me a little longer.
My truck wasn’t easy to get into for him since it was so high, so I’d asked his permission to use his car. It was a bit of a clunker—maybe he should let Dax have a look at it and make sure everything was okay—but it did the job.
Once he’d managed to slide into the passenger seat, I sat behind the wheel. “It’s about a twenty-minute drive, but our reservation isn’t until six-thirty, so we have plenty of time.”
“Okay.”
I backed out of the driveway, then started the drive to the restaurant. “I don’t like having to hurry or feeling like I’m on a tight schedule.”
He shot me a sideways look. “I would think being in the Army is little else but being on a schedule all the time.”
I chuckled. “True, but it’s rarely a tight schedule. We don’t like to hurry if we don’t have to. We save that for combat.”
“I bought a throw pillow today,” he said after a comfortable silence. “And a new rug for my bathroom. It’s super non-slip, unlike the one I have now.”
Alarmed, I shot him a look. “You should’ve said something. I would’ve replaced it immediately.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t realize it until I almost went down yesterday because it slid from under me.”
I should’ve checked to make sure everything was safe for him to use.
Maybe I should install some bars in the bathroom that he could hold on to when he got dizzy?
Definitely in the shower. Even I had almost faceplanted there once, when it had still been my room.
And maybe there was some kind of non-slip mat I could put in the shower itself?
Or put one of those rough coats on the floor, the ones that almost felt like sandpaper.
Not the most comfortable, but definitely a lot safer.
“You’re gonna do a whole checkup of the room now, aren’t you?” Forest asked with a small smile.
“Yes.” I saw no need to deny it. “I should’ve done that right away, even before we switched rooms. But I’ll get some safety bars up in the bathroom tomorrow. I can also install some in the room itself if you want.”
He’d also need something for the floor. The hardwood was beautiful, but way too slippery for him and too unforgiving should he fall. “And we can get some super soft rugs that I’ll tape to the floor so they won’t slide. And if there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”
Forest put his hand on my thigh, and lightning flashed through me, as if suddenly, all the nerves in my body were connected to that one spot. “You really are extra,” he said softly.
I had to force myself to remain still. “Extra?”
“You never do anything halfway, do you? Once you make a decision, you’re all in.”
He wasn’t wrong. “I told you, I’m a fixer.”
“That’s one word for it, but you’re much more than that. It’s sweet, Nash. You’re sweet.”
I mentally groaned. Sweet? That word was for puppies and kittens and little girls with bows in their hair. Not for grown-ass men who wanted…more.
Sweet sounded like he was firmly friend-zoning me, and that stung a little. I wanted so much more from him than friendship, even if this was the worst timing in the world.
But I could be patient and wait for him to be ready. In the meantime, however, I wasn’t gonna let him label me as safe and cute and whatever it all meant. “I’m not sweet.”
“You are, but in a good way. The best way.”
Was there a good way to be sweet? Apparently so, and with his hand still on my thigh, dangerously close to my hardening cock, thinking became impossible. “If you say so.”
He squeezed my thigh, and I fought back a groan. Jesus, did he realize what he was doing to me? “I do say so, Nash, so stop arguing with me.”
Ha! Like that would ever happen. “Just let me know what other safety issues you need me to fix in your room,” I circled back to the original topic.
“Like I said…sweet. Anyway, I saw a plant I wanted as well, but it was too heavy for me to carry, so…” He took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to drive me over sometime so I could get it.”
He was asking for help, and I knew how much that had cost the proud, stubborn man. So as much as I wanted to cheer and applaud him for giving in, I treated it as if he’d asked me to grab the mail. “Sure.”
He gave me a grateful smile and finally removed his hand from my thigh. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. Both, probably.
When we reached the restaurant and had found a parking spot, he waited for me to open the door for him and offer my arm again. With a little assistance from me, he got out, and then we walked to the entrance together, with him leaning on me.
His diagnosis had been a hard blow, and I felt nothing but empathy for him, but at the same time, I couldn’t deny that I could totally get used to this.
Forest leaning on me, both mentally and physically, was…
addictive. It pushed buttons inside me, dangerous ones that made me want more of this. More of him.