Page 20 of Room 1017

“But before the slip, at the clinic… I’ve been pushing you too hard. I just want you to feel better, and I should’ve seen the signs that you were past your limit. I let myself forget that there’s a time to rest too.” Because the sooner he was healed, the sooner he wouldn’t be my patient anymore and the sooner we could be something more. “Peter, I… I don’t think I can be your physical therapist anymore.”

His features crumpled for a second before he got a hold of them, wrestling them into a rough version of calm. “Sure. I-I understand,” he grunted, his voice gravelly with emotion.

“No, I don’t think you do,” I said, ducking down until I caught his eye. “I can’t be your PT because you’re more than a patient to me.”

“Oh…” He seemed surprised by that. Could he really have been so blind to how I felt about him? “Well, that’s… good, right? Because I feel more toward you too.”

“But I also don’t think I can bemorethan your PT either. Not yet,” I said, forcing the words out, even as I wished I could take them back. Wished that I could change the outcome. My throat tightened as I tried to swallow, my mouth bone-dry. “Peter, I think you need to talk to someone. A therapist.”

He opened his mouth to reply, and I could already imagine the arguments he was going to make. That he was fine, that he didn’t need the pills, he could stop anytime. It was practically a script for addicts. But it wasn’t just about the meds. I’d never asked him about what happened, how he got injured. The file only had the most clinical description of his surgeries, whatever was needed to formulate a treatment plan, but those were just words on a page, not the emotions that went with them. I could see the way it haunted him still, the shadows that lingered behind his eyes when he thought no one was watching. He needed help, but it was time I admitted that it was more than I could give.

Peter’s jaw snapped shut with a clack of teeth, his chin sinking to his chest as he stared down at his hands in his lap where he was picking at a hangnail. He knew he needed help as much as I did. He swallowed, then swallowed again, trying to breathe through the overwhelming emotions. When he finally managed to drag his eyes up to meet mine, they were brimming with tears.

“It just hurts so much,” he whispered tightly, and I knew he didn’t just mean the physical pain. “I thought I could push through. But when that got too hard, it seemed easier to ignore. Easier to medicate…”

“Oh, Peter.” My own eyes burned too, and I scooted my chair forward to take his face between my hands, bracketing his legs with my own. I brushed his tears away with my thumbs as they spilled down his cheeks. “Nobody can go through something traumatic like you did and be okay. You hear me?”

He nodded, sniffling. “But what does that mean for us?” he asked cautiously. “What’s next?”

“Well, first things first, I should probably transfer your care over to Cliff.” Peter was already shaking his head. “He knows what he’s doing, he’ll take good care of you,” I promised, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Forget it! I don’t want anyone else’s hands on me but yours,” he said adamantly, and I knew he wasn’t willing to budge on this.

I sighed, not willing to push it, because honestly, I didn’t want someone else’s hands on him either. Even if it was my happily married boss. “Well then, I guess that means that we’re just friends for now. You need to work on you before there can be an us.”

He nodded, setting his hands over top of mine on his cheeks. “I want to be someone worthy of you, Casey.”

“You already are,” I assured him, leaning forward and setting my forehead on his, breathing his air, eyes closing.

“I’m not. You deserve someone who can keep up with you, someone who can literally sweep you off your feet without falling over. I don’t know if I will ever recover enough for that. I don’t want to slow you down or hold you back.”

I shook my head. How could he not see how wrong he was? “I’m more worried that you only like me because you’ve started to rely on me, but what happens when you get better? When your injuries heal and you decide you’ve outgrown me? You might see me as that angel now, but what about tomorrow or next year once that hero worship wears off?”

“That will never happen, Casey. Never.” He couldn’t promise that, but that was what relationships were. Two people might fit together in one moment, but that could never be a guarantee for a lifetime of tomorrows. For the way Peter made me feel, though, I knew it was worth any risk.

“You’re worth waiting for, Peter. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“Can we be friends who kiss?” he asked hopefully, flashing me those wide puppy-dog eyes.

I knew I should say no, that I should remain firm on keeping things professional. But… we weren’t at the clinic now. We weren’t on the clock, doing exercises or stretches. We were just two men, supporting each other, finding solace together.

“Just once,” I said, already leaning closer. “But this is all you’re getting, so you’d better make it count.”

He was so gentle at first, tentative, and when I let my tongue trace along his bottom lip, it was salty with his tears. He opened his mouth for me, offering me just a taste. I resigned myself that this would have to be enough to tide me over, but before I could pull back, he hooked his fingers into my belt loops and dragged me off my chair and into his lap. My knees notched on either side of his hips, straddling him. I tried to argue that I was going to hurt him, but he gripped me by the ass and ground up into me, telling me how very much he wanted me right where I was. My own cock swelled in response, slick leaking.

Things very quickly got out of hand. This was weeks of growing weakness toward him. Weeks of teasing and tenderness, of friendship building into the foundation of something more. I wouldn’t call it love yet, but it could be one day soon…

It didn’t take much for me to push the guilt aside, and I threw myself into the kiss, tangling my fingers through his hair. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe we could stop at just one, but if this was it, I had to make it last.

I drew back, panting to catch my breath. “Wow…” I whispered, crawling off his lap carefully. I cleared my throat, straightening out my clothes, briefs damp beneath my ass. “I guess I should get going.”

“Maybe I could convince a friend to stay for lunch,” he said, his kiss-swollen lips tipping up at the corners.

My stomach gave the most delightful swoop. “Maybe you could.”

13

Peter

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