Page 27 of Seeing Grayscale

“Huh?” I croak, heat crawling up my neck while I tuck the crutches beside the couch.

“Right at home.” He smirks and nods at my reclined position.

Home.He says it like it’s true. He says it like it’s reality. And that satisfied look in his eyes is new. It’s messing with my head.

“Might as well, right?”

What is wrong with me?

“Down that hall is the bedroom, and across is the bathroom. The kitchen is there,” he hikes a thumb over his shoulder, “and upstairs, there are just more rooms. Nothing too fancy.” Walking across the space, he pulls open a drawer in the large entertainment center, retrieving a remote. “If you want to watch TV. We have all the streaming channels, and I think my mom has a few movies downloaded.”

He offers it to me. My eyes snag on his long, masculine fingers, mentally tracing the veins curling over the top of his hand. They’re bigger than mine, but not by much—the kind of hands that could protect something if needed. “Thanks.” I take it quickly, making sure to pluck it in a way where I don’t touch him.

“Do you need anything?”

Overwhelmed, hot, and in pain, I shake my head.

I need a minute to breathe—to collect myself and calm the hell down.

For someone as adamant as I have been about what thisisn’t, I can’t fucking look at the guy. The men I know who dip their toes into the dude pool aren’t like Hunter. They are rough-edged, aggressive, and so far deep into their denial that evenifI wanted something from one of them, I’d never get it.

I’m hung up on that fact. I’m hung up on how much I never realized I might…want something someday. Maybe.

“Alright. We have a landline, so if you’d like me to bring back something, call me.”

I nod this time, rendered mute.

“Gray?”

Shit. “Yeah?”

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Slowly, I raise my eyes to his. I spot it immediately. Deep,deepshame fills his hazel irises. That peaceful aura beaming out of them moments ago is gone. Oh hell. “No. I’m just tired and,” I gesture at my leg, “hurtin’.”

“I’ll get your things.”

He rushes outside and returns with all my bags and medicine a few moments later. Setting them within my reach, he opens one of the water bottles we got on the way out and puts it on the flat armrest. His eyes dart to my leg, and he hums thoughtfully. I watch him dash away again, a door opening and shutting fast; then he’s back with a stack of pillows.

A silent question crosses his gaze, and I nod. Chills erupt over my skin as he touches my ankle; even through the sweatpants, the heat from his palm is present.

I can’t even begin to understand why my heart is racing.

With my leg propped up, he grabs a thick throw blanket from the other end of the couch. “It gets chilly in here.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go.”

I stare at him. “You haven’t moved.”

A nervous laugh leaves him as he runs that hand through his hair. No wonder the strands never fall into his face. They’ve been trained backward due to his insistent fingers. “I’ll be back.”Thistime, he walks to the front door.

When he grips the handle, pausing, I think he will linger some more, but he doesn’t.

Just as he passes through the threshold, I catch his lips moving to form the word:fuck.

FOURTEEN

---