Chapter 10
chapter ten
One surgery, three days in the hospital, and a prescription for pain meds later, and Dabbs called, “It’s open!” at the knock on his door. Of course, his dogs were barking up a storm, so Dabbs wasn’t surprised when the knock came a second time.
“It’s open!” he yelled, louder.
The door opened a few inches, and Ryland Zervudachi poked his head inside, wearing the square-shaped, pink-and-turquoise sunglasses Dabbs had purchased for him at Frozen Fest. “Hi, doggies. Hi.” He slipped into the foyer, careful to block the exit with his body, which Dabbs appreciated because his dogs were closet escape artists.
Ryland shut the door behind himself, set his backpack aside, and crouched.
“Hi, guys.” Cosmo sniffed at his outstretched hand while Castle kept barking.
“Castle, settle,” Dabbs commanded from his prone position on the couch. It was as far as he’d gotten when Roman Kinsey had dropped him off after picking him up from the hospital an hour earlier.
Ryland set his sunglasses on the table by the door and glanced over at him, and Dabbs nearly fell headfirst into his smile.
“Hey.”
Dabbs replied with a two-fingered wave.
“How are you feeling?”
“I can’t stand upright,” Dabbs told him. “So that’s fun.”
Ryland chuckled and crouched again to pet Castle when the dog finally deemed him safe enough to approach and nosed at his leg.
“I had my appendix removed when I was a kid, but I don’t remember much about it.
” He brought his backpack to the armchair across the coffee table from Dabbs and dug through it.
“I remember Jason didn’t leave my side much, and I remember my mom didn’t come visit me at the hospital or at home once I got out. ”
“Did she live nearby?”
“She was already living in France by then,” Ryland said, removing a sling from his bag. “I remember being pissed that she wasn’t there. Took me years to understand that it’s a long and expensive trip, and it probably wasn’t worth it for something that wasn’t life-threatening.”
Dabbs frowned at that, unsure how to respond. He couldn’t imagine being a kid recovering from surgery and wanting your mom there, only for her not to show up.
Ryland slid the strap of the sling over his shoulder, propped his arm in the pouch, and regarded Dabbs. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”
Dabbs laughed, then winced as it aggravated his surgical incision. “No problems getting your rehab transferred to somewhere in Burlington?”
“Nah. Your AT came through with recommendations for local athletic therapists, and mine got in touch with one of them. She’s going to take over as of tomorrow, and I’ll see her once a day for as long as I’m here. So? Can I give myself a tour?”
“Go for it.”
The dogs trailed after him as he walked out of the living room with its cozy sectional and cozier armchairs and into the kitchen. Dabbs could just see him through the gaps in the staircase railing, opening cupboards and cabinets and even the pantry.
“What’s this?” Ryland held up a bag of bread.
“Apple bread.”
“It weighs a ton.”
“It’s the best thing you’ll ever eat.”
Ryland brought it up to his nose. “Smells good. Is it from a local bakery?”
“It’s from The Big Apple.”
“You order this from New York?”
Dabbs swallowed a laugh so he didn’t aggravate his incision again. “No. The Big Apple is a roadside attraction off Highway 401 in Ontario. They’ve got a bunch of shops and activities—a petting zoo and mini-putt—and they make pies and breads on-site. Including that.”
Ryland stuck his head in the freezer. “There are two more loaves in here.”
Only two? Dabbs needed to place an order soon.
“I buy it in bulk,” he said. “They only ship to a few cities in and around the Greater Toronto Area, so I have it sent to a friend who lives in Toronto, and he ships it to me.”
“That’s a lot of work for bread.”
“You’ll understand once you try it.”
Ryland returned to poking through cupboards before he wandered to the back door, where Dabbs couldn’t see him, but he could hear him asking the dogs what their favorite poop spots were.
Damn it. Dabbs was a sucker for guys who were nice to his dogs.
“I’m guessing you guys don’t use the kitchen table,” Ryland said.
“What gave it away?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I can’t see the surface?
What is all this?” There was a rustle—Ryland going through the random crap on the table, no doubt.
“A bill? Who gets paper bills anymore?” he muttered, seemingly to himself.
“You have receipts from . . . this one’s a month old.
Why not toss it? Or if you’re keeping it for expenses .
. . where do you keep your receipts for expenses? ”
“You’re looking at it.”
Silence. Then, “The kitchen table is your organizational system? I think we can do better than that, boys.”
The dogs yipped in agreement.
“Can I check out upstairs?”
“Of course,” Dabbs said. “Yours is the bedroom on the right, at the back of the apartment. Bellamy put fresh sheets on the bed for you before he left. Actually, speaking of bedrooms . . . is that backpack all you brought?”
“No, I left my suitcase on the front porch so I didn’t accidentally let the dogs out when I came in.”
Ryland reappeared from the kitchen, told the dogs to stay, opened the front door, and yanked his carry-on suitcase into the house with his good arm. “I’m going to bring this upstairs,” he told the dogs. “You guys coming?”
They followed him upstairs, excited about their new guest.
“Don’t freak out if Minnie darts out from under Bellamy’s bed to find a new hiding place once you get up there,” Dabbs called after Ryland.
“Noted!”
Unlike Dabbs’ dogs, Minnie, Bellamy’s kitten, wasn’t the extroverted sort.
When Bellamy had suggested Ryland come stay with him for a few days until he was back on his feet, Dabbs hadn’t exactly hated the idea. He’d protested anyway—Ryland was recently injured and probably not in any condition to travel. But Ryland had readily agreed. Hell, he’d practically begged.
“You’d be doing me a favor,” Ryland had said when they’d spoken on the phone after Dabbs’ surgery. “I’m bored out of my mind. At least this way we can convalesce together. Puh-lease let me come stay with you.”
Dabbs had heard his pout from several states away.
So here Ryland was, not looking any worse for wear after traveling from Columbus to Burlington for five hours with a two-hour layover in Detroit. He looked as scrumptious as he always did with his messy dark hair and dark stubble and wearing cozy joggers, a hoodie, and a Columbus Pilots hat.
And that goddamn nose ring that was way sexier than it had any right to be.
“Were you recognized at the airport?” Dabbs asked him when he came back downstairs with the dogs.
“In Columbus, yeah.” Ryland sat in the armchair. “I went live from my gate before boarding, which you’d know if you installed the app on your phone.”
Dabbs had installed Instagram on his phone—not that he’d tell Ryland—but when Ryland had been live, Dabbs had probably been trying to change out of the hospital gown and into his sweats without pulling his stitches.
His phone dinged on the coffee table and he glanced at it briefly. Zanetti texting to let him know that Deeley had gotten airsick again.
“So.” Ryland looked around, like he was awaiting direction.
“What’s my first job as your nursemaid? And what kind of nursemaid do you want?
Patient and gentle and spoon-feeding you soup?
Or naked and naughty and feeding you . .
. ” He looked down at his own lap, his smile a heady mix of gentle teasing and banked desire. “Something else?”
“Christ.” Dabbs half laughed, half groaned, picturing Ryland wearing a lab coat, a stethoscope . . .
And nothing else.
Either Dabbs was high off pain meds or he was secretly into doctor porn.
He passed a hand down his face and banished that image to a corner of his brain labeled shit to ponder later.
“You’re not my nursemaid,” he muttered, desperate to get the conversation back on track.
“No? I have strict directions to make sure you eat properly and drink lots of fluids, take your pain meds, have regular bowel movements—don’t make that face at me. We all do it. Can you imagine how much pain you’ll be in if you’re constipated and have to force a poop out?”
Dabbs didn’t know whether to laugh or hide himself away in embarrassment.
“I also have strict instructions to watch out for signs of infection and to make sure you walk around a little more each day to get the blood flowing.”
“Did you talk to my doctor or something?”
“Your doctor, your mom, Bellamy.” Ryland ticked them off on his fingers. “Your team physician, your coach, and your director of player engagement, which, question. What does a director of player engagement do, exactly?”
“Mostly he makes sure the players are happy.”
“Huh.” Ryland considered that for a moment before getting back on topic. “So? What’s my first order of business? Want a snack? A glass of water? Do we need to clean your incision?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a nap,” Dabbs said, his eyes heavy-lidded.
The doctor had warned him that he’d be weak and tired for several days after returning home and had advised that he should rest often to help the healing process along. Dabbs wasn’t much of a napper by nature, but there was no point fighting what his body wanted.
The dogs jumped onto the couch and curled up by his legs, ready to join him in some mid-afternoon shut-eye.
“A nap,” Ryland repeated. “Okay. Sure. Want help getting to your bedroom?”
“I’m good here.” Dabbs settled deeper into the couch.
“Okay. I’ll just . . . ” Ryland looked around again, looking adorably clueless and lost. “Take the dogs for a walk?”
The dogs perked up, naps forgotten, and jumped off the couch.
Ryland beamed, clearly pleased at having something to do. He got their harnesses and leashes on, tugged the front door open, then grabbed both leashes in his good hand.
“Don’t forget the—” poop bags, Dabbs was going to say, but Ryland grabbed them off the table next to the front door and exited with a cheery, “See you in a bit!” thrown over his shoulder.
Taking all of the energy in the house with him.