Chapter Eleven You Tell Me What You Need
Chapter Eleven
You Tell Me What You Need
He feels it everywhere, a harsh pang that reverberates throughout his entire body, starting in the small of his back, going
to his ass, and ending in his fingers and toes. “Oh, fuck!” Owen grunts as he bites hard on his bottom lip, only relaxing
when he thinks he might break the skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck that hurts.”
Thank God the live band isn’t still playing; no doubt their sudden silence would’ve drawn even more attention than the eyes that Owen catches when he lands.
“Shit, Owen!” Jacob kneels next to him, his face cast in shadow thanks to the lights in the ceiling. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Owen lies. When he tries to lift himself back to his feet, his legs almost immediately start to wobble,
his stance unsteady as he reaches out to support himself on Jacob’s shoulder. “Nothing is broken,” he assures the people gathering
around them, witnesses to Owen’s great embarrassment.
“Okay, everyone make some space.” A cruise employee holds out their arms, directing everyone to get back to the party and
to give Owen room as Jacob helps him to an empty table.
“Shit, dude . . .” Kaitlyn pulls a chair out for Owen to slump into.
“I think I pulled my shoulder.” Owen attempts to rotate his arm before he feels a sharp pain. “Ah! Yeah . . .” he adds through
gritted teeth. “Pulled my shoulder.”
“Tell me where it hurts,” Kevin says, slipping right into his bedside manner, almost appearing out of nowhere as he presses
fingers to Owen’s arm.
“Higher,” Owen tells him.
Kevin moves up to Owen’s shoulder, pressing a bit harder. Owen forces out heavy breaths to keep himself from making a bigger
scene than he already has. “There.” Owen winces.
“One to ten?” Kevin asks.
“Maybe a seven? Or eight.”
“Can I test?” Kevin asks, and after Owen nods, he takes Owen’s arm and gently rotates it. “There’s not much swelling. I doubt
it’s broken, but it looked like you tried to catch yourself when you fell.”
Fantastic, Owen thinks. He doesn’t even really remember doing it, but maybe he does? He does remember stretching for Jacob, the man
just out of reach.
“How is your back?” Kevin asks, pressing his hands against the dip near Owen’s waist. “Do you feel anything here?”
“Not as bad,” Owen admits. “Maybe a three or a four.”
“Hmm . . . I’m going to go ahead and guess that your stubborn ass doesn’t want medical attention from the cruise ship?” Kevin
asks, whispering so that not even Jacob will hear him. “We’re still docked, we could get you to the hospital. They could do
X-rays and make sure nothing’s broken.”
“I thought you had X-ray vision?” Owen jokes, just to prove that he’s fine.
He knows his body, he’s had hard falls before.
Once in school, when he was at the library and trying to reach for a book on one of the taller shelves.
Another time he’d been playing on Jacob’s UCSF softball team and tripped over his own feet on his way to first base.
It hurts. Terribly. But he’ll be fine after some rest.
“I’m okay, Kev,” Owen assures him. “I just need to get back to the room.”
“Okay, only if you’re sure.” Kevin waits for Owen’s nod before he stands. “We can always pump you full of ibuprofen.”
“No chance you’ve got any morphine on you?” Owen laughs.
“Should we call an ambulance to meet us at the dock?” the cruise employee asks Kevin.
Owen answers for himself. “I’ll be okay. I’m denying medical assistance.”
That’s enough of an answer for her, and she turns, escorting the lingering passengers to clear the space and give Owen more
room.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kaitlyn asks him at the same time Abigail shows up and asks what happened.
“I’ll be fine,” Owen promises them. “I will. I’m just gonna head back to the room.”
“Okay, well, we’ll go with you,” Kaitlyn offers.
“No!” Owen shakes his head. “I can make it, don’t worry.”
“Owen,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. “You’re hurt, fuck the party, dude.”
“I’m fine,” Owen tells her. “You don’t have to worry about me.
” He can feel himself getting heated. He knows that Kaitlyn means well.
Worse, he knows that there’s no reason he shouldn’t accept her company.
It’ll make the night that much easier. But there’s so much left of their evening—there’s still the countdown, and the northern lights haven’t even shown up yet.
“What if I go with you?” Jacob offers suddenly.
“You don’t have to,” Owen tells him.
“I know,” he says.
Owen looks at Jacob.
Jacob looks at Owen.
“Do you think you can stand?” Jacob asks, letting his hand hover an inch away from Owen, watching Owen carefully. Owen braces
himself against the table and hoists himself onto his feet. He stumbles forward, and there’s an unsteadiness in his knees
that causes a pinch in his spine, sending him back to the chair as quickly as he stood up.
“Yeah, no,” Jacob says, catching Owen and helping him back down. “Let me find you a wheelchair.”
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” Owen insists.
“You packed your cane, right?” Kaitlyn asks.
Owen nods, though he’s not sure he’s willing to wait for someone to go all the way back to the room to get it for him. Weighing
his options carefully, Owen looks at all of his friends, hating the pity that he can feel in their gazes. He hates it. Hates
feeling like a burden. Hates feeling like he’s always the one who has to be taken care of.
“Owen?” Jacob kneels, meeting Owen eye-to-eye.
A large, strong hand comes to rest on top of his.
“I’m here, okay?” he says so softly that Owen isn’t sure anyone besides him can hear the words. He almost prefers it that
way. “You tell me what you need.”
“Could you just carry me back?” he asks, a nervous heat filling his cheeks.
Jacob has carried him before. Granted, most of those instances involved the two of them getting hot and heavy, Jacob’s strong
arms reaching around to lift him into the air without any effort at all, sometimes accidentally so. But there were times too
when Owen’s flare-ups were really bad, though usually that just involved Jacob helping Owen up the steps of their building
or moving from the couch to the bed on the worst days.
“Just to the room.”
“You’re okay with that?” Jacob asks, and while Owen appreciates him checking his boundaries, he just needs to be back in the
suite. Owen nods, letting Kevin and Jacob both help him to his feet.
“You have your medication?” Kevin asks.
“Yeah.” Owen can already imagine the relief from that little orange bottle of 800-milligram ibuprofen that’s waiting for him
in his bathroom bag. Owen steadies himself before he allows Jacob to scoop an arm under Owen’s knees, keeping his back supported
as he lifts Owen. “How is that?” Jacob asks, adjusting his hold. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Owen admits, grimacing as the pain starts to settle in a different area. “But I’ll survive.”
“Hang on tight, spider monkey,” Jacob teases.
“I’m not Bella Swan.”
“You’re right,” Jacob says with a boyish grin. “Pale, ice-cold skin, you’re awkward and don’t know how to talk to people.
You’re definitely Edward.”
“I’m ignoring you now.”
They say goodbye to their friends, Owen bracing himself as Jacob starts to walk, keeping his pace slow.
They catch a few odd stares from some of the other passengers as they exit the atrium.
Owen tries his best not to feel so self-conscious; he knows he shouldn’t care if they’re judging him or not.
If they are, they’re the weird ones; and if they aren’t, then that’s what
he wants. But that doesn’t ease the shame that he feels, the embarrassment that comes with being gawked at.
“I think they’re staring at me,” Jacob says, humor in his tone. “They’ve never seen someone so handsome before.”
“God.” Owen lets out an exasperated sound. Something close to a laugh, but not quite. “Stop talking.”
He doesn’t, though; he keeps talking to Owen as they make their way through the labyrinthian ship, Owen grateful that Jacob
seems to know the route to their room without much trouble. This close to Jacob, he feels right at home. Owen can see the
places along his jaw where he needs to trim his beard, the faint freckles that dot his cheeks, the flecks of amber in his
brown eyes.
He’s so beautiful, Owen thinks before he can stop himself.
Relief floods him as they round a familiar corner, Jacob ducking down just enough to let Owen scan his bracelet to let them into the lounge, and then again to get into their suite.
“I’ve got it from here,” Owen says, trying to let his feet fall to the floor, but Jacob keeps his grip tight. “Jacob, I’m
okay.”
“Please just let me help you,” Jacob pleads with a softness in his gaze as he looks down at Owen. “Please?”
Owen relents, relaxing his body as Jacob deposits him gently on the couch. Once Owen is settled, Jacob rushes off, making
his way into Owen and Kevin’s room. Owen’s immediate instinct is to ask what Jacob is rummaging around for before he hears
the rattle of the pill bottle.
“Is this all you have?” Jacob asks as he approaches, pillow tucked under his armpit, along with Owen’s iPad, heating pad, folded-up cane, and water bottle. It takes Owen a moment to realize Jacob is talking about his medication.
“I have more in my bathroom,” he starts to say.
“Where are they?” Jacob asks, turning on his heel to head back to the bedroom before Owen can stop him.
“Jacob? Jacob, you don’t have to—” Owen starts to say before he finally recognizes the look on Jacob’s face, that focused
expression that he’d always have when he took care of Owen. Owen had never gotten used to the idea of someone else wanting
to take care of him. His parents had always made him feel like a burden, like he was wrong for needing help. No matter how
hard he’d try to put the guilt away, it’d always creep back in, leaving Owen to lie about wanting more water or being hungry.
Jacob, though, had never hesitated to swoop in, to focus all of his attention on Owen when he was feeling his worst. He never