Chapter 16
DYLAN
I could’ve let Jana bring Max his food, but I selfishly wanted to make sure he was okay.
He seemed to find comfort in my company, even though I was far from used to taking care of other people.
He appreciated my efforts and in turn, I discovered that I liked taking care of him.
Every time he rested his head on my shoulder and snuggled into me, it tugged on my heart strings—the ones I never knew existed.
With the full tray balanced in my hands, I was walking down the hallway to Max’s room when I overheard the tail end of a surprising conversation.
“Feel free to ask Dylan yourself if he’s single,” Max replied tersely.
That comment almost had me tripping and dropping the damn tray like a scene from a comedy sketch.
What was going on?
“Everything okay here, Max?” I asked as I entered his bedroom.
“Yes,” the patient and the doctor replied simultaneously.
Dr. Dourot chuckled as he walked up to pass me on his way out. His blue eyes gave me a thorough once over, but it did nothing for me. I was focused on the man in the bed, the dark-eyed Doc who laughed at my corny jokes.
“Max is doing much better. His stomach revolted a few minutes ago and I’ve cleaned it up, but I think that’s the end of it.
I’m going to wait on board for another hour or two and do a final check.
” Dourot paused and gave me a flirty smile.
“Why don’t you drop off his tray and keep me company on the bridge deck? ”
I glanced at Max, his face drawn, his cheeks flushed. In addition to having no interest in flirting with the medical doctor, I wasn’t about to let Max sit here alone while he was still sick.
“I’m going to stay with Max. If you’re done, you can head down to the lounge on the main level. Jana will make sure you’re looked after.”
I placed the tray on the dresser in the corner and pulled out my phone to text her.
Dourot gave me a shoulder shrug and a cheeky grin. Cocky dude.
“Suit yourself. Max, small sips of liquid. Don’t rush. I’ll be back shortly.”
Dourot grabbed his bag and slipped out of the room. I heaved a sigh of relief that Max and I were alone again.
“‘Small sips’ … ‘Don’t rush’… Like I don’t know how to eat or drink after I’ve been sick. I’m a fucking adult,” Max grumbled as he sat up.
The sheet slid down to his hips, but I forced my eyes upward. Clearing my throat, I grabbed the tray and placed it over his lap. Max grabbed the spoon and took a few cautious sips, then gave a ready smile.
“Oh, that’s good. I finally feel human again.”
He took his time and finished the broth and ate some crackers and so far, so good. A half hour later, his cheeks were still flushed but his eyes were clear. Phew. This was twice in once week he’d scared the crap outta me.
“You don’t need to stay. If you want to head outside with the good doctor, go ahead. He seems into you,” Max muttered as I placed the tray back on the dresser.
“Not interested. Did he recognize me?”
“No, but he mentioned that you looked familiar. I’m sure he surreptitiously took your picture and is on his phone as we speak, googling you. Please tell me he signed a non-disclosure form.”
“Yes. Anyone coming aboard has to. Rowan’s rules.”
“Good,” Max replied and let out a loud yawn.
“You need to rest. I’ll clear this out of your way and let you take a nap.”
“Thanks, Dylan. For everything. I’m not the best patient, and I appreciate your help.”
Max took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. He squinted at me and the expression on his face was so damn adorable, I almost walked back over to him. Then I cursed myself for even thinking the word ‘adorable.’ Maybe I was coming down with something myself.
“You’d do the same for me. Rest up,” I replied as I picked up the tray and walked out.
After I dropped off his tray in the kitchen, I decided a workout was in order. Exercise the body, clear the mind.
Thirty minutes into my run, my phone chirped. It was a text message from Warren, asking how the book was going and wondering if I had time for a chat. I slowed my pace and cooled down, then grabbed my phone and responded to him, requesting a video call.
I wasn’t sure how my coming out might affect the book contract or the movie release. I had a feeling my publisher would be okay with it. Any breaking news—especially news that involved a celebrity’s sex life—attracted interest. And the publishing world was no different than Hollywood: sex sells.
A few minutes later, Warren called me and there was no point in delaying it any longer.
“Hey, Warren. I have something to tell you.”