Chapter 8
MASSIMO
Five weeks out from the accident, the house still reeks of antiseptic and takeout. Em’s side of the couch is his lifeline. A phone charger, open water bottles, empty pill bottles, used tissues, and his crutches tip against the armrest.
His home nurse, Ryan, whom he bitched about a shit ton, especially when it came to showers, is parked in the recliner like he’s been living here his whole damn life.
The guy doesn’t blink when Em moans, curses, or demands snacks.
He just smirks and tells him to ‘walk it off.’ Which is hilarious, considering my brother’s hopping around like the busted flamingo he yelled about in the hospital.
But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m thankful as fuck for being here with him. The first week was horrible. The first two days, I did nothing but pray, cry, and beg everyone who entered that room to save him. I was scared out of my fucking mind.
Now Em’s in full performance mode, dragging his crutches down the hall, groaning like he’s birthing triplets. Every step is punctuated with some bullshit.
“This is bullshit. Ow. I hit my dick. Ow. Mas, kick Ryan’s lazy ass out. Ow. He’s not even helping me anymore. Ow. Get me a stripper nurse. Big titties that smother me.”
Ryan doesn’t flinch. Just sits there, arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked like he’s watching stand-up comedy.
“You keep whining like that. I’ll make you do another lap.”
“Fuck you, Ryan. You’re supposed to care.”
“I do. That’s why I’m still here with all your bitching. Now keep moving if you want to have sex anytime soon.”
Ryan’s awesome. He’s bulky enough to handle Em, especially when he needs help bathing.
Em hates it and uses that as motivation to figure out how to shower without him.
Getting a male nurse that Sofia vetted is great.
They bullshit, play video games, and are a babysitter/friend/nurse to my brother.
He gives Ryan shit all the time, but he loves the dude.
“Dude, Ry, we’ve talked about this. I’m fucking Sofia the second she lets me. Mas can’t be the only one getting his dick sucked. Mine deserves some lollipop licking too.”
I lean against the counter, sipping my protein shake, ignoring them both. Three weeks of this circus at home, with no sex in the last five weeks, is making me edgy and irritable. Part of the source of my frustration is Sofia.
I’ve been driving her to and from shifts every day since that asshole ex of hers showed up at the hospital.
She doesn’t argue anymore. Just slides into the passenger seat like it’s where she belongs.
Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we don’t. Either way, her scent stays in the car long after I drop her off, clinging to the leather like it knows she belongs there.
That asshole ex has been back a couple of times. Begging for money and trying to bow up against me. Dumb. I’m twice his size and far younger. I would easily fuck him up if it weren’t for her getting in between us and stopping me. It’s always the little dudes that mouth off the most.
Every time he’s there, she gets upset and worries about her tiny dog. I’m about to bring that dog to my house. Give Em something to do besides bitch and moan all day.
“Mas!” Em yells from the hall, snapping me out of my thoughts after taking a piss. “Tell Ryan I’m gonna die if I take another step.”
Ryan grins, cruel bastard. “If you can yell, you can walk.”
“What Ryan says.”
“I fucking hate you both.”
He staggers into the living room, sweating like he ran a marathon. Crutches wobbling, robe flapping, and dick out like we want to see that shit. He collapses onto the couch with a dramatic groan and throws his head back like a reality show chick.
“Cover your junk. Ryan doesn’t need to see that. He finally doesn’t have to wash it anymore. Give him a break.”
“Fuck you, Mas. Ryan loves my shit. Almost as much as I do.”
Ryan and I exchange looks. Dude’s not gay. Not even bi. I doubt he wants to see my brother’s shriveled-up dick.
“Pretty sure he doesn’t. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to wipe your ass anymore either.”
Em tries to twist around in his seat to look at me, cusses, and then gives up. His middle finger shoots straight up in the air before catching the cold bottle of water Ryan tosses at him.
“Good job.”
“Don’t patronize me.” Em takes a swig anyway. “I need McDonald’s, a hot Victoria’s Secret model as my nurse, and her tits hanging in my face while she gives me a sponge bath. Not fucking Ryan.”
I shake my head, set my shaker bottle down, and check the clock.
Almost time. Sofia’s shift ends in twenty minutes, and I’ll be there waiting like always.
She’ll slide in, tired but smiling, with her curls a mess.
She’ll touch my arm without thinking, and I’ll want to drag her into my lap right there in the parking lot.
We haven’t gone further than kissing. Hot, hungry kissing that leaves my dick aching for hours after.
We make out, but she always, always pulls back.
Whispering some line about not crossing it.
Not yet. I let her. Because I know it’s only a matter of time.
It’s all I think about. Having her alone or with Em doesn’t matter to me.
Whatever she wants. If things were reversed and I was hurt, Em taking care of me, he would bend her over the couch and fuck her right in front of me.
Probably not give a shit. I should do the same.
Em wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You going to pick up our girlfriend?”
Ryan snorts into his water. This conversation is not new to him. But he’s still not comfortable with us sharing. Not that he’s going to say anything. He’s not like that.
“She’s not—” I start.
“She is,” Em cuts me off as I cross the room to the front door. “She’s mine too. Don’t think I don’t see the way she looks at me.”
I grab my keys. “You can barely make it down the hall without bitching. She’s not looking at you. No one wants to fuck a whiny bitch.”
“I’d like to see you have screws and pins in your leg and have to grow back skin and not bitch about it?” he huffs, crossing his arms, then wincing. Ribs or road rage. Who knows. “You’d cry just about ripping off your dumb mourning tattoos.”
He’s not wrong. He knows the meaning of my tats. Knows how important they are to me.
“Yeah, well. . .” I don’t bother finishing my statement.
He’ll be fine with his babysitter.
I bolt out to the car, throw it into gear, and race out of the driveway.
I plan to move things along with Sofia by taking her out for a romantic dinner.
She’s always so tired after work that we usually eat at a healthy fast dining place, or she just eats at home and shoves me out.
Saying she needs a bath and to call her mom.
She’s all work and no fun. I intend to change that.
She’s waiting on the curb when I pull up, looking dead on her feet. The second she opens the door and drops in, she exhales.
“Don’t say anything. I lost a patient today. Died in front of his wife of forty years.”
That will do it. Days like this, I don’t say anything.
Don’t reach for her hand. Just drive and let her be.
I’m several turns in toward her home, wondering if that’s okay, when she sighs again.
When I glance over, her eyes are closed.
Her arms are crossed over the seatbelt. Closed off to me and the world.
I don’t know what to do on these nights to pull her out. So, I have to just drive her home.
The neighborhood changes around us, from good to not great, until I’m pulling through the gate of her apartment complex. The rattle over the threshold jostles her, and she finally turns to me.
“Just drop me off. I want to be alone.”
Dealing with death or the threat of it takes a toll. There have been some days like this in the last few weeks. Not many, but this seems to be the worst.
“Okay.”
There is an empty space right in front of her apartment. I kill the engine, and she’s already unbuckled, ready to jump out.
“You don’t need to get out. I’m good.”
That’s one thing I will not do. I always walk her to her door, whether she wants it or not. With that damn ex of hers running around, I don’t like the idea of her going in alone.
“No, I’m seeing you in.”
Too tired or too sad to argue, she just gets out of the car. Slams the car door hard enough to make my teeth clench. I jump out and follow her. She stops short. Her front door is wide open. Her hand covers her mouth. Eyes are wide and scared.
“Stay here.”
I shove her back and proceed forward. She edges toward her neighbor’s front door. I’m not scared. I hope it’s her dickwad ex so I have a real reason to finally beat his ass. If he’s inside, he’s trespassing and a criminal. Good.
“Paco isn’t barking.”
Oh shit.
I glance at her, scared and starting to shake. Comfort is what I want to give. But she needs to know her dog is okay. Her need overrides my desire to hold her. My shoulders roll back. My hands roll into fists, ready to pulverize him. Stepping into the apartment, nothing looks out of order.
Her place is small. I snap on the lights and clear it pretty quickly. Paco is shut in the closet. Disappointment fills me. I wanted to send a message by kicking his ass and getting him thrown in jail, so she doesn’t have to deal with him.
Her dog starts barking, but I snatch him up and hold him to my chest. Whispering how scared his mom is while walking back out of her apartment. She rushes forward, Spanish spewing out as she grabs him from me. Kisses him endlessly. Makes me jealous that those lips are on him.
“Where was he?”
“In your closet.”
Her eyes narrow when she storms past me. Hoops swinging opposite the purse on her arm. She looks ready to battle now. I follow behind. Nothing’s overturned or appears missing. Hugging her dog, she makes a slow circle. Her gaze roams the room before charging down to her bedroom.