Page 12 of We Were Never Lovers
“Or I can hire a nurse, a carer,” Jack said like he would do whatever Sean wanted, but it was clear he wanted to do it himself.
Sean looked at his hands. “I really did all this for you?”
“Yes,” Jack replied fervently. “All of it. I was on crutches and I got really sick and needed help to piss, to get on the toilet, to shower, to get meals, in and out of bed, all of it. You did all of it.”
Sean couldn’t imagine it.
“I’d never lie to you,” Jack said.
Sean nodded. He knew that. Even in light of whatever demented conversation they’d clearly had about the past—how else would Jack know all of that?—and however Jack had chosen to recast it in his mind, Sean knew Jack wasn’t a liar. An insufferable wanker, but not a liar.
“Yeah,” Sean allowed.
“Okay,” Jack exhaled, relieved. “I’ll be quick. Keep Lola company.”
And he was gone before Sean could point out that Lola was dead asleep on her bed, as if she listened to them fight all the time and slept right through it.
That’d been a week ago. And the doorbell was ringing again. Jack’s brisk footfalls sounded on the floorboards as Lola leapt off Sean’s bed to race to the door, her nails clicking on the wood and her chuffing little barks ringing in the hallway, and Sean wondered what fresh hell awaited him today.
A light rap on his door sounded and Jack poked his head in. “Sorry, physio. He’s early. Want me to tell him to come back?” he whispered.
“Nah, I got it,” Sean replied and tried to sit up.
Jack came in and the routine began. It’d only been a week, but they were getting it down. Sean was even getting used to being pressed against Jack’s chest when he lifted him so easily out of his bed, the smell of him, the warmth. There was something so familiar about it that Sean sank into it before remembering himself and feeling flushed and angry.
“Thanks,” he said, another thing he was managing.
“Any time,” Jack replied warmly but carefully, before he wheeled him out.
The physio was a gorgeous Spaniard, around their age, late twenties, with thick curly brown hair, olive skin, and a persistent smile. He was also gay and played up the camp aspect of it. Sean loved having him over for how much Jack clearly didn’t. His presence made Sean smile from the moment he said, “Morning, Jorge,” to the moment he said, “Later, Jorge,” and the whole time in between, as Jack tried and failed to smile and be polite.
“I didn’t take you for a homophobe,” Sean had said the first day after Jorge left.
Jack had, unexpectedly, cracked up laughing. His whole body had been heaving with it, his eyes dancing as he met Sean’s. “You know I’m not,” he managed once he’d settled down.
“Hmm,” Sean agreed and they’d left it at that, a simple look passing between them before Jack was wheeling him to the bathroom for a shower.
But something about Jorge did rile Jack up and Sean spent his sessions contemplating what it was.
“Arms,” Jorge said with a wink and pulled out some light wrist weights.
Sean watched Jack in the kitchen, making coffee but surreptitiously watching them; Jack scowled at the wink, looked away quickly at the appearance of the cuffs. Jorge slipped them on and Sean half listened as Jorge explained about limiting weights until his ribs were better, the importance of maintaining upper body conditioning while focusing on deep breathing exercises until they could get to the leg and “deal with that mess” he finished with another wink.
Jack didn’t make himself as scarce when Jorge was there, he’d stay in the kitchen while they worked in the living room.
“Just gonna do some meal prep for the week,” he said nonchalantly, except he was waving the tea towel around and darting his eyes from Sean to the clean bench and wasn’t convincing anyone.
Jorge grinned at him. “Jack, you may watch me work, and of course I will take great pleasure in watching you work too.”
Sean watched as Jack blushed, muttered about marinating chicken, which, come on, that takes like two minutes, but he’d mess around in there, gaze constantly drifting to where Jorge was correcting Sean’s form, his warm palms cupping Sean’s biceps and gently pushing him to reach higher.
“Still an athlete, no? You did not break your arms. More, Sean, more!”
Sean caught Jack’s eye roll and his curiosity went up another notch.
After Jorge left—Jack telling him briskly, “I’ll walk you out,” and doing so with expediency, the door clicking shut firmly with his resolute, “Bye,”—Jack came back in and found Sean lightly panting and waiting with a grin.
“Seriously, what’s your issue with him?” he asked.
