Page 58 of Top Shelf
I swallowed heavily and nodded. “Sticky.”
His mouth twitched up into one of his rare grins. “Give me five minutes, okay? I’ll get a shower going, then get your leg out of the boot so you can get a proper wash.”
I said nothing, just watched with slightly foggy vision as he slipped away from me. I shivered, but before I could feel the distance between us too profoundly, he laid a quilt on top of me. It was a little too cool, but the weight of it was perfect.
I nestled, still doing my best to ignore the wet spot I was lying in as he walked off to the bathroom.
He returned a few moments later, still naked. I let myself indulge in his form—the curve of his body, the way it looked so different from mine. He was beautiful—tall and graceful, and there was power in the way he moved.
Quinn caught me staring, and I saw the tips of his ears go pink as he walked over and leaned down. “Ready? The water’s already getting warm.”
I managed to get up from the bed, but before I took a step toward the bathroom, I tugged on his arm. He turned, and I felt a sort of heaviness in my chest.
He’d said he wanted me. That much was obvious. I believed him when he said he was willing to take the risk and have this. But there were no defined lines to who or what we were. We were with each other for now, and when I was better…we wouldn’t be.
In that moment, I wanted to beg him to keep me forever, but I knew what it must have cost him to do even this much.
So instead, I took him by the jaw, cradling his face gently because it was so precious, and then I took a breath and kissed him.
The euphoriaof what had just happened fizzled into nothing the moment I saw the apartment building come into view. I’d never introduced anyone to either of my parents before, and while I knew deep down that it wouldn’t matter what they thought of Quinn, I also knew that socially, hooking up with my physical therapist and someone so much older than me was treading dangerous water.
I didn’t trust that my mom wouldn’t go after him professionally if she thought the relationship was toxic, and I didn’t trust my mom to know what was toxic for me. She still, at times, fully believed I didn’t understand the world around me. She didn’t seem to grasp the fact that I did get it—that I did know—but mostly, I didn’t care.
But I wasn’t willing to put Quinn at risk, even if he was willing to take it.
“She shouldn’t know.”
Quinn glanced over at me as he came to a stop at the red light just before the turn. “Who shouldn’t know what?”
“My mom. About us having sex.”
His ears pinked again, and I gave in to the urge to reach up and touch them. They were as warm as they looked, and he laughed as he turned his gaze back to the road. “I wasn’t going to tell her that we were having sex, sweetheart.”
I felt so warm when he called me that. It was like a hug for my insides. It was such a simple term—one used by probably millions, if not billions, of people in some form or another. But it felt unique and singular, the way he said it to me.
“I can’t hold your hand,” I said as I pointed to an empty disabled space close to the building. “Or kiss you.”
“Did you kiss other boyfriends in front of your mom?”
Other boyfriends? Surely he was joking. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
He said nothing, but I could see him biting his lip like he was holding something back. He quickly parked the car up against the curb, then ran his hands through his hair before turning to look at me. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Yes, but…”
He frowned. “Are you ashamed of me?”
My eyes went wide. “What?No. Quinn, you…” I struggled to find the words to explain it to him. “What are your parents like?”
He looked a little surprised. “Um. They’re not alive now, but?—”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorr?—”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, it’s…it’s fine. They passed a long time ago. I was really young. And they weren’t really involved parents. I was in a lot of after-school activities to keep me from bothering them.”
Then he really wasn’t going to get it. “My mom has kind of made her sons her whole personality,” I said softly. I bit down on my thumbnail, then dropped my hand to my lap because thenail was getting close to the quick, and I hated that kind of pain. “It’s…”
“A cultural thing?” he chanced with a tiny smile. “I know that hockey isn’t the most diverse sport in the world, but I’ve had a lot of friends over the years who came from a lot of backgrounds. I think I can understand.”
