Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Quinn
Ferris looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he hadn’t perked up the way he normally did when he saw me coming to call him back.
His session went fine. His ankle was far more weight-bearing than it had been, and though the break was still giving him pain, he was managing without crutches for parts of the day.
We’d just hit the three-week mark, which meant he was ahead of schedule, but for his age, that was normal. And I’d made sure to mention that, but he had almost no response when I did.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked after spraying down the table he’d been lying on.
Ferris was sitting in a chair, and he looked up at me, but the motion was so slow, almost like he was sedated. “Talk about what?”
“You’re not yourself.” I walked over and eased down into the rolling chair, making sure my leg stretched to the side of him. “Is it something I did?”
Our sessions were intimate, but we hadn’t touched again—not like we had at my place. And I was trying to be better about not inviting him over. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe I was blurring the lines, and he didn’t know where he stood.
He blinked slowly. “Um.” He paused, and I waited for his mouth to catch up with his brain.
“I had a really bad night. My mom and I got into an argument, and I had a meltdown, and she yelled at me. She apologized after. I think she wants to go home. But it was hard not being allowed to calm down on my own. She wouldn’t stop yelling until I stopped crying, and I ended up pacing my bedroom most of the night. ”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured. His shoulders hunched up the way they always did when I said something that made him happy. “Why doesn’t she go home? You’re doing so much better now.”
He glanced away from me. “It’s what we were fighting about.
I’m the youngest, so she’s…protective. But I’m also autistic, and I don’t think she gets what that means.
When I was a toddler, my doctor told her I might not ever speak or be able to take care of myself.
She was prepared to be my caregiver for the rest of my life.
” He went quiet for a beat. “I think she never really let that go. I think she’s always been waiting for me to fall apart. ”
Reaching for him, I took his hands and squeezed, and he offered me a very small smile. “Living with your friends in a frat house doesn’t give her a lot of confidence, does it?”
He laughed. “Uh, no. Not really. But there’s no real point in that, you know? I have to move out next week.”
I frowned. “What? Why? Did they kick you out?”
“Oh. No. It’s…I graduated. Well, I’m done with finals. I graduate the weekend after next. And I’m supposed to meet with, um…with someone from the Bruins? To get me an apartment, but then they told me that was being pushed for a few weeks until they’re sure I’m going to be skating this season.”
My stomach twisted. The organization could be amazing—but it could also be complete shit sometimes. “What if you came to stay with—” I stopped myself because no. Fuck no. That was crossing every single goddamn line.
He looked up at me, ducking his head so he could snag my gaze. “What?”
“It was a bad idea. Ignore me—”
“You want me to live with you?”
I felt all the air rush out of my lungs. “I was going to offer. It would be crossing so many boundaries, but if it meant your mom would go back home and let you recoup and you also had a place to go while you wait for me to discharge you, maybe she’d relax.”
He licked his lips. “You couldn’t just discharge me now though. Could you?”
I laughed. “If I thought it would do you any good, you know I’d sign those papers. But you need to be ready. I’m sure they’re going to stick you on no-contact for a while during camp and probably into training before the season starts. But by the time the first game rolls around, you’ll be golden.”
“I won’t be playing.”
“Mm. Not at first. But you’re not on the farm, honey. You’re on the team. You’ll get your ice time, I promise you that.”
He licked his lips, then said, “Is there somewhere I could sleep if I came to stay with you?”
With me, of course. In my bed, getting your scent all over my pillows so when you left, I’d have something to keep for a while. But I couldn’t say those words. “I have four bedrooms. You can take your pick.”
He bit his cheek, then said, “Would you come with me to talk to my mom?”
My eyes widened. “You want me to tell her that your physical therapist is going to take you into his home?”
He blinked, looking confused, like he didn’t understand why that was a problem. “Am I being inappropriate right now?”
“No,” I breathed out, squeezed his hands one last time, then let him go. God, I was going to get so fired. So incredibly fired. And probably lose my license. And there was a damn good chance Ferris’s mom would sue me.
But he was worth the risk. It was a nightmare scenario, and somehow, I wasn’t afraid of the consequences.
“Are you sure? Because I—”
“I like you. I love spending time with you,” I said, cutting him off before he could speak more negativity about himself. “I want you around. I know it’s not forever, but for however long it is, it’ll be nice.”
He pursed his lips together like he was trying to hide his smile. “And I’ll be able to skate again soon?”
That immediately gave me an idea. “If you promise to take it very easy—and I mean very easy, and let me wrap you up tight—we can go in a couple of weeks.”
He blinked at me, kind of doe-eyed. “Really? Where?”
“I have a friend,” I said, and god, it felt weird to say that and mean it. “He runs a little skating rink not too far from where I live. He lets me come and go whenever I get the itch.”
“The it—oh. The urge.” He glanced away like he did when he was embarrassed after taking something so literally. “Alright. Tonight, you can come with me to tell my mom I’m moving out. I can get all my stuff packed.”
Tonight. Jesus. “That fast?”
“Oh. Do you want me to—”
“No. Tonight is good. Tonight is great.”
Ferris pushed himself up to stand. He looked happier. Better. He still moved more slowly than usual, and his voice told me just how tired he was, but there was a bit of bounce to his step. “You’re sure, eh? About me?”
I stood up and set my hands on his hips. The cameras were watching, so I was careful, but I leaned in anyway. “I’m not sure about most of the things in my life, sweetheart. But you are the one thing I know I’m getting right.”
I brought Ferris home first so he could put what he had in whatever room he wanted to choose to sleep in. But we were immediately derailed the moment the door shut because with the soft click, he was on me. His crutches clattered against the wall, and his fingers twisted into the front of my shirt.
I grunted as my shoulder blades hit the wall, and then I pressed my hand to the back of his head and dipped low to kiss him. He nipped at my lips like he was starving for me, and I used my other arm to cinch around his waist and hold him upright so he didn’t have to worry about his balance.
This went on forever. For days. Weeks. Months, maybe.
In reality, it was probably less than a minute before he pulled away, gasping slightly as his eyes frantically searched my face. “I’m sorry. I’m being too much—”
“No.” I took him by the chin and kissed him hard. “No. You are not too much. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me in the ass,” he emphasized like I might have some other wild idea about where I wanted to put my dick. And to be fair, I did, but not right at that moment.
His idea was brilliant. Perfect. Genius!
I kissed him a second time, digging all ten fingers into his waist, framing it as best I could to keep him close and steady. “I think my bedroom would be best. Do you think you can manage one set of stairs?”
He nodded. “Easy.”
As Ferris stepped back, I could feel the distance between us like a physical thing, and I hated it. I moved to close the gap again, and he seemed to realize what I was doing because he gave me a playful grin, then turned and hurried toward the bedroom.
His walking boot thudded heavily with each step, and he was even slower than I was, but we made it to the landing without incident. Ferris came to a halt just outside the first guest room. “Why is your bedroom up here?”
“All of the rooms are on the second and third floors,” I told him, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing the side of his neck.
“That doesn’t make sense. You should have a first-floor room.”
“Mm, but that’s hard to find in Boston, sweetness. And anyway, I can manage just fine. I swear.” My words were muffled against his warm skin, and I enjoyed the way he tilted his head to the side, like he was asking for more.
I bit down on his tendon, sucking lightly before letting go. I didn’t want to leave a mark if I was about to meet his mother in a few hours.
Which…fuck. I was about to meet his mother in a few hours.
Shoving that thought aside, I slipped past him and led the way past the second guest room, then opened my bedroom door.
It was deceptively large—like most of the brownstones were in Boston.
The buildings looked narrow and small and claustrophobic from the outside, but the ceilings were high, and the windows let in so much light it made the room feel cavernous.
It was nothing like the place I’d grown up in.
A suburb of a suburb—a small rented house with two bedrooms—one for my parents and one for me.
My dad was an accountant and used our breakfast nook as his office.
My mom worked at a laundromat, and she sometimes brought clothes home to fold, so our formal dining room became her space.
Everything smelled like printer ink and dryer sheets.