Chapter 8
EIGHT
Felix
I think I’m having a panic attack.
My chest feels tight. All these bags are making my brain squeeze. It’s too much. I want to be grateful, but I’m cautious. Why is he doing this? Alarms are ringing in the back of my skull. What happened last night? I’m not sure. I don’t know.
I’ll pay him back. That’s it.
He’ll show me the receipts, and I’ll pay him back. He can take the cost out of my paycheck. I don’t care how he wants to do it.
My fingers dip into the water, testing the temperature.
Grey said that if I think it’s hot then make it hotter, so I let the heat pour out at full power until steam starts to roll over the top of the tub.
I look under his sink and find bath salts for the swelling and pour some in with a minty milk mixture I found, turning the water opaque. “Almost ready.” I call out.
I hear footsteps and look up to see him in a pair of boxers, leaning against the door frame.
Damn. My attention dips to his broad chest. Dark blond hair dusts his pecs and trails down the lines of his abs.
His arms cross over his broad chest as he watches me, the veins in his arms prominent, and the thin fabric of his boxers does little to hide his thick thighs.
I have to peel my eyes away. I’ve never seen muscles like that before.
Stop checking out your client! I look at his knee instead .
. . it’s really swollen. I’m happy he went to the doctor this morning.
That’s a step in the right direction, I guess.
Maybe our talk last night worked. Yes, this job is a means of escape, but that doesn’t mean I’m not taking it seriously.
I want Grey to get better, and more than that, I think Grey is finally ready to get better.
“Yeah, it’s almost done.” He limps over, putting his hand in to feel it.
“Good?”
“Perfect.”
I shut off the water and walk toward the door, letting him slip out of his clothes. I hear him chuckle, then fabric hits the floor. Okay. And he’s naked. So, so naked. Don’t look. Don’t make it weird.
“So um, let me know if you need anything.” I look at the wall and not at the very naked hockey player standing in the middle of the bathroom. Blue walls. What a great paint job. Is it hot in here? It must be the steam from the water.
“While I appreciate the privacy, I do need help getting into the tub.” He chuckles.
“Oh um, here.” I stick my arm out blindly, shutting my eyes as I turn.
“Felix.” His amused chuckle is low and deep, his voice as masculine as the rest of him.
“Y-yeah?”
“Open your eyes.” Slowly I blink them open, keeping them on his face. “I don’t want to slip. This is honestly the trickiest part of all this bullshit.”
“I just want to give you privacy.” Eyes. Focus on his eyes. Pretty, blueish eyes.
He smiles at that. “Appreciated, but I’ve been in locker rooms with other naked men all my life. I don’t even know what modesty is at this point. It’s alright, just help me in. And don’t sell nudes of me.”
“I wouldn’t sell your nudes.” I smile. “I’d keep them for myself.”
The joke slips, and my eyes widen with it.
His deep laugh hugs me, calms me. “Good. Now, help me in.” I nod, helping brace him as he slips slowly into the water, keeping my eyes safely above sea level.
Grey may have no issue with nudity, but I still want to give him privacy. A low hiss slips past his lips.
“Too hot?”
He shakes his head as he sinks into the milky water. “Fucking perfect.” His groan tugs at something inside me. What’s going on with me?
“Good um, let me go clean. I’ll come back in a bit to check on you.” I get up, but he holds onto my pant leg. “What?”
“Can you keep me company? Just while I’m in here?”
“Oh um.” I sit on the toilet seat. “Sure. Yeah.” He smiles, shutting his eyes.
“Not too hot?” He shakes his head. “Good.” I shift on the seat a bit uncomfortably.
“Um, I wanted to ask. When do you want me to shop for groceries? Do you order them? Or do you always pick them up? I just want to know so I can plan meals. Oh, and allergies. Do you have allergies?”
One of Grey’s eyes pops open. “You can buy groceries on my app anytime you think we need them. Buy whatever you want, and I usually add stuff to the app throughout the week. I’ll show you how.
Anytime you need anything, just add it to the cart.
I usually have them delivered once a week, or Alyssa will do a pickup for me if she’s on the way.
” He shuts his eyes again, resting his head on the lip of the tub, the milky water covering his body.
“No allergies. I eat anything, so make meals you want to eat. Whatever you want.”
“Okay.” My fingers play in my lap. “Um, Andre seems nice. That’s uh, your friend’s fiancé, right?”
His eyes slowly open, sleepy and satiated.
His hair is up again in a tie, and his beard is a bit long, but even with the scruffy beard he’s very handsome, and maybe a bit scary.
His blue eyes soften at the edges. They fill me with warmth.
“Yeah, they just got engaged. I know Oli mentioned getting married this summer.” He shakes his head.
“Happening so fast.” He stretches his neck with a wince.
“Are you alright?”
“Just tight. Everything is sore. I actually fell asleep in my chair last night.” He looks up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Had my knee propped up like a good boy.” A wolfish grin spreads on his face, and a smile splits my own.
“Do you want a massage? I’m good at those.
” Steven requested them all the time, but I can safely say this is the first time I’ve actually wanted to give one.
I look at his broad shoulders, muscular biceps, and strong corded neck, then my attention goes to his eyes that are watching me.
I swallow. Shit, I have to stop checking him out like this.
“Sure.” He looks at my clothes. “Why don’t you sit on the edge of the tub. I bought you new pants to change into if you get wet.”
“Okay.” I slip my pants off. I really don’t want to get them wet. I know he undressed me the other night; I woke up in my boxers. I must have been a mess. I can’t believe I got so drunk in front of him. I’ve never drunk like that before.
While Steven didn’t stop me from doing it—he drank plenty—I never wanted to let my guard down around him. With Grey the other night, though . . . I don’t know. I felt free. Really free. I felt free, and more importantly, safe.
With just my boxers and shirt on, I sit behind him on the ledge of his wide tub, and he lifts a bit, allowing my legs to dip into the scorching water. “Holy shit.”
“Too hot?”
“It’s very hot.” I laugh. “It’s okay, though.” The heat feels good. He settles back against the tub between my knees, and my fingers land on his shoulders, giving them a squeeze. His skin is so soft.
A deep groan rumbles from his chest when I work the knots corded between his neck and shoulders.
His eyes flutter shut. I do my best working out the knots, paying extra attention to the spots that make him groan.
With his eyes closed, I get greedy, drinking him in.
His red lips look soft and his face is relaxed.
It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed someone’s company. This easy silence is nice.
Grey’s eyes flutter open, locking with my own, and there’s a heavy pause before a slow smile spreads across his soft lips.
Tension clouds the room along with the steam rolling off the water.
“Feel good?” He nods softly. I continue to squeeze, my thumbs digging into the tension underneath his skin.
“So. Did they just start dating? Your friends?”
“They did.”
“How does that even work? I thought, you know, sports were notoriously um, well—”
“Filled with toxic masculinity?” I nod while he laughs.
“Oh, you bet. They really didn’t have a choice, though.
Someone from a gossip website took photos of them kissing and posted it online.
It was a shitshow, but if anyone can handle that, it’s Oli.
” He shakes his head. “It’s not easy. Fans still give them shit, but Oli doesn’t care.
Too busy being in love to care.” He smiles softly.
“They’ve known each other for a long time now, but only recently started dating. ”
“That’s nice, like a second chance at love.
” That sounds really nice actually. The thing is, with Steven, I know I can’t hide out here forever.
We’re legally married. I have to face him sometime, but right now I need to focus on stability and safety.
In the dark, quiet corners of my mind the truth hides away.
I’m afraid I’ll go back.
It’s not that I want to, it’s just . . .
I don’t know why I do it. I always go back.
Fear, maybe? Dependency? I don’t know. I’m just determined to make this time the last time.
When Steven had gone to work, I’d go on forums and talk to other domestic abuse survivors.
Some never wanted to date again. Others found happy relationships.
While it should be the last thing on my mind, I wonder what it would look like being with someone else. I’ve never experienced real love.
Growing up, my parents didn’t show me much attention.
My father passed away when I was young, and then my mom’s attention turned to the various boyfriends who came and went.
Does it make me pathetic to crave feeling special?
Maybe. I want someone to love me. Really love me.
I want someone to treat me like I’m their whole world.
I’m terrified I won’t see the warning signs. What if I miss them again and end up with someone as bad as Steven? Or worse. Can it get worse? “What are you thinking about?” He blinks up at me, voice soft, his head resting between my legs.