Page 17 of Matthias's Protective Embrace
“Leave. You’re exhausted, and it’s been a long night. It’s not safe for you to drive.” If he really won’t stay, I’ll drive him home. Anyone who can fall asleep like that in the yard is in no position to be driving until he’s had a full night of rest.
“I can’t stay here.” He swallows, and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs. “With you.”
“I have a spare bedroom. I put new sheets on the bed, so everything’s clean and ready.” The room gets very little use these days. Aaron stays over sometimes when we play video games and drink a few too many beers. Otherwise, only the occasional out-of-town visitor uses the space.
“That’s really not…”
“Please.” I’m not above begging. Every cell in my body is crying out for me to take care of this man. He might not be willing to say, but he’s obviously going through some things. Frank deserves a little comfort and caretaking. Both things I’m more than happy to provide. As much as I want to demand he tell me the whole story, I don’t have his trust. Not yet. “For me.”
“I… I guess.” Frank stares at the ground, eyes fixed on some spot I can’t quite see, chewing on his bottom lip.
“Thank you.” I lead him back toward the staircase, following close behind to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance as we climb to the second floor. It takes all my self-control not to stare at the pert ass right in front of me. Ogling him when he’s had such a shitty night is wrong, but I can’t help myself.
“Help yourself to anything you need. I plugged your phone in on the nightstand.” Thankfully, I checked his pockets before sticking his clothes in the washer. “The TV remote is there as well, in case you can’t sleep.” I highlydoubt that would be the case, given how heavy his eyelids look, but I don’t want to assume. “The guest bath is right across the hall. There’s a toothbrush out on the counter for you and clean towels under the cabinet.” Overboard? Absolutely not. Frank deserves to be spoiled, something I’m starting to suspect he’s had very little of in his life. “If you need anything else… anything at all… come and get me. You know where my bedroom is.”
“Thanks. I’ll be fine.”
Nope. That’s not good enough.“Frank”—I use my best serious voice—“if you need something, I expect you to let me know. Especially if you aren’t feeling well.” Google hasn’t convinced me that he’ll bounce back from this quickly.
“Okay. Thank you.”Better.
It takes a lot of convincing for me to step away from the doorframe once Frank makes a move toward the bed. More than anything, I want to wrap him up and make everything better. Right now, I’m not even sure whateverythingis, but it’s exhausting him. I could kick myself for not taking action sooner. Each morning, when I took him his coffee, I could see the growing dark circles under his eyes. I could’ve said something, pushed him to get some more rest, even asked Sam to give him a paid day off. I won’t forgive myself for letting the signs of exhaustion slip by so easily.
For tonight, though, he needs sleep. Until he’s better rested, there’s nothing for me to do. I leave my bedroom door open a crack in case he needs something during the night. Tomorrow, we can talk.
Chapter Seven
MATTHIAS
Am I being overprotective?
That’s the question I lie in bed pondering this morning at six AM. Even for me, that’s too fucking early on a Saturday.
I can’t help it. The whole thing with Frank has thrown me for a loop. There’s something about him that calls to me. It’s why I provide him with water. And food. And coffee.
I managed to convince myself that those meant nothing, that it was all in the name of making sure the people working on my property are safe and comfortable. I can’t have people in my yard passing out from dehydration or starvation. Except, there are three other people working there and not a single one of them gets a specially made coffee every morning.
Maybe most people would have called an ambulance or his family instead. I did offer to call someone, but I didn’t feel particularly bad when he declined. I’m not sure if thatmade me feel better because I got to keep him for the night, or worse, because he doesn’t have anyone out there worried about him. It makes me sick to think no one would’ve noticed if he didn’t make it home last night.
That’s probably why I insisted he sleep in a guest room. He was still fucking exhausted. He tried to hide it, but that level of tiredness is impossible to hide. That’s the whole reason.
Not because I’m planning to claim him as mine. The thought has crossed my mind a few times, like when he came downstairs wearing my clothes. The way the too-big items hung off his body made him look like a child playing dress up. It also did something to me and made me feel like I had some sort of claim to him.
Fuck. Stupid Frank.
There’s no chance I’m going to fall back asleep, so I get up and take care of my business before heading down to the kitchen. I’m as quiet as possible to make sure not to wake Frank. He needs all the sleep he can get.Damn. I wish I knew why he wasn’t getting the sleep he needed at home. I can’t fix things if I don’t know what the problem is.
And this is why my former partners found me too controlling. Their words, not mine. My need to understand and tackle problems works well in the office, but at home, they make me… a bit of a dick.
Coffee brewing, I grab my laptop and set it up on the counter. I prefer to work from my desk, but I want to be around when Frank wakes up. No way I’m letting him slip out without breakfast. And a discussion.
As usual, I lose track of time. Somewhere between my second and third cup of coffee, my stomach starts growling insistently. Nine-thirty. Guess it’s time forsomething other than caffeine.
I’m about to stand when I hear the guestroom door creak open. Great timing. I grab the eggs from the fridge, as well as a few other things I saw earlier.
The toilet flushes, and a few seconds later, Frank appears, still wearing my sweats. He’s rolled the legs a few times to shorten them up, but he still might trip over the ankles.
The sweatshirt hangs down to his knees, so I’m not getting the benefit of watching him walk around commando in my grey sweats. He’s not on the brink of death anymore, so a little looking won’t hurt anything.
