Page 79 of Winning You
Frankie felt like the world was falling beneath his feet. He felt a mixture of shock and rage coursing through him like a literal hurricane, and he had to keep his hand on the wall to stay steady. “Charlie,” he rasped. “Charlie did this? He hurt you?”
Lucas’s tongue dragged over his lip, and he squeezed the rubber handle on his cane hard enough to leave fingernail prints. “Yeah. He found me at my food truck this afternoon. Kind of went ballistic and punched me twice in the face before I got it locked up. He did some damage to it too. Uh…then he ranoff. I was going to call you, but I was in the ER for X-rays, and I didn’t have my phone. Then when I picked it up, it was dead. I am so, so fucking sorry I missed our date. Please don’t be angry. I?—”
Frankie cut him off with a kiss. It was desperate but soft because he didn’t know where else Lucas was hurt. The younger man sagged against him and whimpered softly against his mouth. After a short forever, Frankie forced himself to pull back.
“I am not angry. Well, I am. I have never been more furious in my life, but not at you.” He glanced up and down the hall, then said, “Fallon is in my bed. Can we go to your place?”
“Will he be okay there alone?”
“For a little while. We can crash on my couch tonight, but I need a moment with you, and I don’t want to worry about waking him up.”
Lucas took a breath, then nodded and turned, leading the way to his door. The moment they were inside, Frankie closed it a little too hard, making Lucas jump. But he soothed him immediately, pulling him against his chest and brushing tender, soft, careful lips over the spreading bruise on his cheek.
“I want to kill him.”
“There’s kind of a long line for that,” Lucas said. “My dads were really fucking pissed, and when Gage finds out…” He trailed off and pulled back.
It was then Frankie realized Lucas wasn’t wearing his prosthetics. He cupped his face and brushed thumbs over his soft eyelids. “Did he hurt you here too?”
“What? Oh.” Lucas let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “This really obnoxious customer was accusing me of not being blind. She was like the fifth one. Then when Charlie implied the same thing, I kind of lost it and pulled them out. That was before he hit me.”
“It sounds like your day was shit all around.” It was all he could say that wasn’t plotting Charlie’s murder aloud.
Lucas laughed, but the sound was closer to a sob, and he rested his uninjured cheek on Frankie’s shoulder, wrapping arms around him. “It was the most shit. Like the most absolute and complete and utter shit. And I’m so fucking sorry I ruined our date.”
“Our date was delayed, not ruined.” Frankie rocked him gently from side to side until some of the tension left his body. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Bath.”
“Mm.” Lucas didn’t put up a fight when Frankie took his hand and tugged him down the short hallway and into the main bedroom. The lights, as usual, were off, but Frankie hit a few switches as they made their way through the room. He left the bathroom lights off. The dark was more soothing, though he kept the door cracked so he could see.
In the dim light, he eyed the tub, which looked like it had never been used.
“Toilet.”
Lucas jolted. “You want me to…use it?”
Frankie chuckled and kissed him softly on the chin. “No, princess. Sit on it. Your tub looks like it’s got a year’s worth of dust in it.”
Lucas grimaced as he shuffled forward, found the toilet, then turned and sat on the lid. “Yeah, I don’t really do baths.”
“You hate them?”
“I never have time. Gage bought me a bunch of bath bombs, which are probably still on the shelf. They might be expired. If they expire? I don’t know.” He let out a shuddering breath, then bowed his head and started to rub his face, hissing in pain when his fingers made contact. “Shit.”
Frankie froze halfway through digging into the linen closet. “Sweetheart? How bad is it?”
“My face?” Lucas shrugged and prodded at his cheek. “Hairline fractures in my eye socket and my cheek. They brought in an ophthalmologist at first, and I swear he was trying not to swallow his own tongue when he realized I didn’t have eyes. Poor bastard.”
Frankie smiled a little as he wet a washcloth and soaped it up. “Sounds eventful.”
“Eh. They can’t do anything about the breaks except make me eat soft foods and, you know, not get punched again.”
“Yeah, I vote for not getting punched again,” Frankie said before kneeling down. He ran the water and washed all the dust out, then plugged the tub and found a small packet of bath bombs that looked functional. They were pink and smelled of roses, so he tossed in two, then stood up and walked over to where Lucas was gently swaying back and forth. “Stand up for me.”
Lucas did, setting his hands on Frankie’s shoulders as Frankie began to undo his chef’s pants. His fingers traced along the collar of his shirt, then slowly moved down along the buttons. “This feels nice.”
