Chapter 17
Jasper
When Arlo is tucked into the shower, I exhale a deep breath, collecting myself for a second before I join him.
This was the first time I’d seen the extent of his burns. I wasn’t lying; I have seen worse. Much worse. I’ve seen burns so bad that the victim needed grafts. Fuck, I’ve seen it so bad that the skin was nearly melted off the bone, and there was basically no chance of survival.
All things considered, Arlo got lucky. It doesn’t feel lucky, though. It doesn’t matter that I’ve seen worse. It matters that my baby boy has burns. It matters that he’s in pain. It matters that I can’t do anything about it at all, and it breaks my heart.
The worst part is that I’m gonna have to clean his wounds. It’s going to hurt. Preparing myself to physically harm him is… not easy.
I strip off my clothes, and with another long, slow exhale, climb into the shower behind him.
Arlo’s eyes fly open, and he looks at me. He’s standing half under the spray of water, trying to keep his burns from getting wet. “I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to keep the water on it.”
I nod. “You can. We just have to dry it well after and redress it.”
His hair is soaked through already, so I pump some shampoo into my palm and work to scrub the smell of fire from the locks.
He sighs, melting into my touch. “You know what sucks?”
“What’s that?” I ask, massaging his scalp.
“You’re standin’ there, stupid hot, big dick dripping water, and I can’t even get hard.”
I bark out a surprised laugh. “I mean, I think I’d be more surprised if you did get hard.”
Frowning, he shakes his head. “No, it sucks, ’cause I don’t want you to think m’not interested.”
“Baby boy.” I chuckle, cupping his face. “Trust me, I know you’re interested.”
He pouts. “Obviously not,” he says, waving his hand around his very flaccid dick.
“Arlo.” He settles his beautiful eyes on mine. “I love you.”
He gives me a loopy smile. “I love you too.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”
All his adorable loopiness goes away the second I start cleaning his neck. I’m as gentle as I can be, using an unscented antibacterial soap and the barest touch with my fingers.
It doesn’t matter, of course. When I get to the worst parts of it, he grits his teeth and inhales deeply, a tremble taking over his body.
“Breathe, baby boy. I’m almost done.”
His eyes go glassy as he nods. “It hurts.”
My throat tightens. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
Nodding again, he breathes in deeply, then exhales. I must hit a slightly worse spot because he whimpers and squeezes his eyes closed as tears drip onto his cheeks.
My heart clenches painfully, my own eyes welling up. Hurting Arlo goes against literally all my instincts. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, my voice choked and wavering.
“I know,” he whispers.
His eyes shut even tighter when I get to his shoulder, and he drags in a deep breath as more tears fall down his face.
Seeing him in pain—in pain that I’ve caused—is more than I can handle. I swallow hard, trying to force back my own tears, but a few slip out without my permission.
“All done,” I whisper, and Arlo’s eyes slowly flutter open.
When he looks at me, his brows are drawn together. “You’re crying,” he whispers, a frown taking over his face.
Wiping quickly at my cheeks, I shift away from him. “Sorry. I just—I hate hurting you.”
“You have to clean it. I know that. Just sucks.”
It does suck. And it especially sucks that I’m gonna have to keep doing it. “Well, I’m done. Let me get the rest of you taken care of now.”
With another quick swipe at my face, I turn back to Arlo. His tears are dry now, and he’s staring at me, his eyelids dropping.
I lather up a loofah, taking my time to clean him. I’m especially gentle around his ribs and chest, and when I get to his cock, he huffs angrily.
Glancing up at him from where I’m kneeling on the shower floor, I tilt my head. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re literally touching it, and it’s just not interested.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Oh lord almighty. Do you wanna know a secret?”
“Sure,” he whispers, swaying toward me.
Gripping his hips so he doesn’t fall, I steady him. “I’m not interested right now, either.”
I glance down, then back to him, watching as his eyes fall to my cock.
His bottom lip comes out, and his eyes droop further.
“Stop pouting at me, baby boy. I watched you almost die. I just caused you physical harm.” I stand up, cupping his chin in my hand and tilting his head back. Searching his eyes, I narrow my own. “What’s this all about? Why are you so stuck on this?”
“M’not.”
“Don’t lie to me, Arlo. What’s the deal?”
He watches me for a second, his blinks getting longer and slower, and then he sighs. “It’s all I’m good for.”
I scrunch my nose up. “What are you talking about?”
“My looks.” He waves a hand over himself. “Sex.”
My jaw falls open. “What?” He starts to speak, but I don’t give him a chance to. “You’re not just good for your looks or sex. Where’s that coming from?”
Shrugging, he leans further into me until I’m supporting most of his weight. With a sigh, I stand up, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him. This talk can wait. “Come on, baby boy. Let’s get you into bed.”
“Why am I so tired?” he slurs.
“My guess?” I shut off the water, then reach out and grab a towel before closing the shower door behind us again so he stays warm. “A combination of being tired from your injuries and the meds. It’ll get better after a day or two.”
I dry him off, carefully dabbing his burns. He tenses hard, but it seems to be easier on him than when I was washing them. Hooking my arm around his waist, I lift him up, setting him on the bathroom sink.
He hisses. “Cold.”
“Sorry.” I press my lips to his in a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back. Forgot to grab the stuff to dress your burns.”
I damn near run out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where I left the supplies. After hiding the pills above the stove, I left everything else sitting on the counter. Grabbing what I need, I rush back into the bedroom, stopping only long enough to pull out an old t-shirt for Arlo.
When I rush back into the bathroom, he’s still sitting on the counter, swinging his legs a little. His eyes light up when he sees me, and it nearly stops my heart. He’s so fucking beautiful.
Stepping closer, I smile. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
Arlo nods, then tilts his head to the side to give me better access. “Hope it doesn’t scar.”
I press a kiss to his jaw. “Even if it does, you’ll still be beautiful.”
I’m quick in applying the ointment to his burns, and then I tape large gauze pads over them.
Arlo lifts his arms into the air, and I pull the shirt I brought in over his head, helping him work his arms into the sleeves.
The fabric is pooled around his waist, bunching up, so I help him off the counter, and it falls. It reaches nearly mid-thigh, and a bolt of possession shoots through me.
“You look like mine in my clothes, baby boy.”
He hums, his eyes falling shut as he leans into me. “I am yours.”
“I know you are.”
Hooking my arm around his waist, I support most of his weight as we step through the bathroom door and back into the bedroom. I leave Arlo’s side only long enough to turn the blankets down, and when the bed is ready for him, he uses my arm as leverage to climb in.
I tug the blankets up around his face, smiling when he snuggles deeper into them, his entire lower face disappearing until all that’s showing is his button nose and eyes.
As soon as he’s settled, his eyes fall closed.
“I’m gonna go make you something to eat.”
“No, stay with me.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Squinting at me through one half-lidded eye, he shakes his head. “No. I want to nap. Will you stay with me and make me food when we wake up?”
I sit down on the edge of the bed, placing my hand on his thigh. “Is this your way of trying to get me to take a nap?”
His other eye slowly flutters open, and then he’s nodding. “Please.”
I tap my phone screen. It’s after 7:00 p.m., and I’m pretty sure that if I get into this bed and lie down next to Arlo, I’m not getting out of it until tomorrow morning.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
Arlo’s eyes fall shut once again. “Yes.”
Ignoring the crease between his brows that almost definitely means he’s pouting at me, I grab a pair of boxers from my dresser and pull them on.
The sheets are cool when I slide between them. After not being in my own bed and only catching naps in the hospital bed with Arlo or sitting straight up in the chair, it feels like actual heaven.
Arlo rolls onto his side, trying to snuggle into me.
“Easy, baby boy.”
He sighs but slows his movements. It would be wishful thinking that he’d just be still so he doesn’t hurt himself. It’s pretty clear that’s not going to happen when he shifts and moves until he’s damn near pressed against me everywhere he can be.
His leg slides between mine, and I wrap an arm around his waist, pressing my hand to the center of his back, trying to be mindful of his side so I don’t put any pressure on his ribs.
He makes a happy noise in the back of his throat, then his body goes slack.
I focus on his back rising and falling under my hand and close my eyes.
My mom told me once that when Sarah and I were little, she used to sit beside our beds at night and place her hand on our backs to feel us breathing. She said she worried that if she didn’t, we’d stop breathing in our sleep.
She’d smiled at me, her hair pulled up in a messy bun and her eyes lined in black, crinkling at the corners, and tell me, “Babies are fickle little things. You gotta keep a close eye on them.”
I know neither of us expected Sarah to die. Especially not the way she did. If I had known what was in store for us, I would have done so many things differently.
First off, I wouldn’t have left the house that night. I wouldn’t have left her alone. Mom was right. Babies are fickle things, even when they’re eleven, and sometimes they stop breathing. And sometimes their hearts stop. And sometimes, leaving them all alone is the reason for it.
Sometimes you leave them alone, and the next thing you know, you’re looking at their small body in a tiny coffin, and your mom is sobbing with her hand on their chest, crying about how she can’t feel them breathing.
So tonight, I won’t be leaving. I’ll keep my hand on Arlo’s back, and I’ll keep track of his every breath. I won’t leave him alone again. I won’t make the same mistake a second time.
I can’t bear the thought of another coffin and a motionless chest.