69. Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Kat
Ishrugged. I didn’t really know what he had expected. We’d talked about how much the internet loved him before.
“Kat, you know I-“ he started, but I wasn’t fucking doing this with him right now.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I interrupted, firmly. Tears were collecting under my lower eyelids, but I refused to let them fall.
“I know that, Kat,” he said softly. He looked down at my phone in his hands.
“But I need to say something. And it needs to be said. I did NOT say those things about you. I didn’t say ANYTHING about you to them. Except that I wasn’t talking about it,” he said weakly, only emphasizing a few words.
See, I knew this, though. It was nice to hear it. But it didn’t change anything. It didn’t slow down the deluge of hate on my social media.
“I know that, Henry,” I said quietly. He looked up quickly.
“You do?” he asked hopefully. I nodded, leaning back to try to get a little bit more comfortable while I worked. I hadn’t even finished one sensor and had six to replace.
“But they don’t,” I said, pointing at my phone still in his hands. He looked down like he’d forgotten he was holding it. He probably had.
He didn’t have anything to say on the matter after that.
I’d gotten two sensors done, in more time than I’d hope them to take, when Henry struggled into a fully sitting position. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he started fighting with his shirt. His spandex shirt. That was molded to him like a second skin. He was doomed.
No wonder he hadn’t changed or showered.
I watched him struggle, whimpering slightly every time any piece of his torso was engaged. Spoiler alert—that was the entire time. You can’t take a stretchy shirt off without using your muscles. One last whimper and I finally broke.
“Come here, you big doofus,” I said warmly but exasperated. He leaned away from me mumbling stubbornly.
“I’ve got it,” he insisted. He didn’t got it. I slid closer.
“Let me help you, sweetie,” I said softly. He sighed and pouted. He looked like he wanted to slump, but slumping would hurt his ribs. He nodded. But when I reached for him, he pulled away.
“Wait,” he said frantically. I waited.
“I just… I know you ran off last time because seeing my injuries upset you. And I think… I think maybe I might have some… bruises,” he mumbled. My eloquent driver was a mess tonight.
“Darling, don’t you think I expected you to be bruised to all hell?” I asked in a slightly teasing tone. He flushed. And shrugged.
“I just wanted to make sure,” he said. I knew that.
“I know, Henry. I’m just trying to get that grumbly look off your face because I like helping you,” I said honestly with a small smile. He nodded very seriously. It was cute. I was very glad he took my triggers seriously. I just wish he didn’t have to.
“Okay,” he said simply, nodding resolutely and turning toward me. I pushed his kit aside so I could give him my full attention. I snagged the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly so I didn’t hurt him. He didn’t move to assist, because he didn’t need to yet. And less movement was better, clearly.
I said clearly, because he WAS bruised to all hell. It looked like he had JUST broken all of those ribs. Not six weeks ago. It was miles worse than his face, and his face was bad enough.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed softly, my hands stilling on the fabric at his chest.
“Kat?” he asked, ducking as much as he was able to try to catch my eye. I looked up immediately so he’d stop putting stress on his fucking RIBS.
“What did the x-rays say? Do you have any new broken ribs? Did any of the old ones shift or splinter? How on earth are you upright right now?” I asked, peppering him with questions so quickly he didn’t have time to answer any of them. At first.
“Kat, I’m okay,” he said, not answering my questions. No, he fucking WASN’T and I was so GODDAMN sick of him pretending he was fine because it was what everyone else wanted.
“No, you’re NOT,” I snapped at him. The venom in my tone didn’t affect him, probably because he saw the tears on my cheeks. I growled. He had good sense to not respond after that.
“Lift your arms,” I said, in a slightly kinder tone. Then thought better of the request.
“Well, if you can. Can you?” I asked, completely soft now. He nodded, but I noticed him gritting his teeth. But he got them up there. I stood, quickly stretching the purple fabric up and around his muscular shoulders.
I pulled the neck over his head, careful to keep the pressure of the spandex off of his cheek. Then whipped it off his arms as quickly as I could. I caught the underside of his elbows to help him lower his arms without it hurting so badly.
“There,” I said proudly. He knew I was proud of him, not myself, because he gave me a small smile.
“Thank you,” he murmured. He looked like he was about to say more, but then decided against it. I already knew, though. And I could do that.
“You want help getting in the shower, right? I can do that. I’m sorry I can’t exactly help you much in there like you helped me,” I said a little sadly, gesturing with my casts. They were the original problem.
Even so, the smile my offer earned me made my goddamn heart flutter. This fucking man would be the death of me. He nodded.
I slid my good shoulder under his arm in a practiced motion, pushing down the bile that tried to rise at the reason it was so practiced. We stood together. I knelt again, refusing to meet his gaze, and slipped his socks off. We’d wait on the pants until we were in the bathroom.
I was being tested enough tonight.
While turning the water on, I noticed all of his bottles were around the upper edge of the stall shower. Shaking my head slightly at the typical tall man things, I grabbed them and set them on the waist/chest height shelves instead. There.
I turned around to find him watching me with a small smile on his lips.
“What?” I asked. He shook his head.
It was ridiculous that my heart was pounding right now.
The internet hated me.
He currently put all kaleidoscopes to shame.
The sedatives were still making themselves known.
And yet.
I crooked my finger at him, and he dutifully shuffled forward. I gently pushed the tight fabric down his hips, aware that he could’ve done this part. I kept my eyes on his, though. The shorts finally let go and dropped to his feet. He leaned down and kissed me on the temple.
I turned to go.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he said quietly. I nodded.
“Leave the door open in case you need anything, okay?” I asked. I think he knew I needed the reassurance that I’d hear him more than anything. He nodded back.
And I got back to work.