Page 2 of Coming to Grips
Kyle rubs his thumb over the back of Chase’s hand. The movement finally catches Chase’s eye and his gaze meets Kyle’s with raised eyebrows.
Oh, hell... “Can you feel anything?” Kyle asks, willing the heat in his face not to betray him by turning his flesh any shade of red.
“Uh-uh,” Chase says, watching Kyle’s thumb.
“I’m sorry about your arm,” Kyle says and lets go of Chase’s hand with a pat and stuffs his own into the front pockets of his jeans. He refuses to feel embarrassed, but he hopes Chase is too dopey to notice the color creeping up his neck. That would make more of all of this than Chase needs right now. Luckily, Chase doesn’t seem to be bothered, and the silence stretches comfortably around them. It’s always been this way between them, even during some of their more embarrassing or awkward or deeply personal conversations. Despite the uncomfortable or difficult subjects, they’re almost always on the same wavelength.
A nurse sticks his head in the door and says, “Visiting hours are just about over, sir.” His eyes widen as he recognizes Kyle and then Chase. “Oh, hey, Kyle. Hey, Chase.”
“Morgan, my man, what’s up?”
“Not much.” Morgan comes in and the two clap hands together, pat eat each other’s arms in a bro-hug. He glances at his watch. “Sorry, boys. Time to shut down the wards to inmates only.”
“Yeah. All right.” With a pat to Chase’s leg, Kyle heads for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ace.”
“Kyle?”
Morgan disappears into the hall and Kyle stops, looks back.
Chase is all big eyes and soft heart. “You didn’t have to come. I would have understood.”
Chase’s tender heart is just one of the many reasons Kyle fell for him. Kyle’s hatred of hospitals and why is no secret to Chase. Kyle holds his gaze, hoping his love isn’t shining like a damned beacon. “I know you would have, but me not showing up? Fuck that. God, if anything had happened to you, Chase—it doesn’t bear thinking about. Now go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * *
Kyle spends ten minutes psyching himself up again before he walks through the hospital doors, even though he knows that Chase is fine and that he’s only here to pick Chase up and take him home. His pulse still spikes with his first few steps inside, however. There will never be a day when that doesn’t happen. There are just too many bad memories associated with hospitals. With any luck, he’ll never have to step a foot inside a hospital for years. He pulls in a couple deep breaths and lets them out slowly to bring his heart rate down.
Kyle pushes into Chase’s hospital room to find Chase sitting sideways on the bed, paralyzed arm on his lap, and his legs hanging over the edge. The hospital gown gapes, showing off the tanned expanse of his back, and Kyle swallows. God, what he wouldn’t give to see all that smooth tanned flesh as he enters Chase from behind, to slide his hands down the nodules of his spine, over the muscles of his shoulders… Kyle sighs and pushes away his inappropriate thoughts and quirks his hips to allow his dick to shift inside his boxers.
“Hey, dude.”
Chase looks up, pleased surprise lighting up his features, and Kyle’s heart dances a little two step. God, he’s a goner. One of these days, though, he’s going to have to get over his feelings. Or confess. He’s just not certain the risk to their relationship is worth taking the chance of confessing.
“Hey,” Chase says, his tone not quite as peppy as his initial expression indicated.
Kyle eyes Chase. “You all right?”
Chase shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Really. Thanks. It’s just...I didn’t sleep well. I’m crusty, my head hurts, and my arm doesn’t freaking work.”
“Yeah, man, life fuckin’ sucks for you right now.”
Chase looks at him with big eyes.
Kyle shrugs. “What? Did you want me to sugarcoat it, blow sunshine up your ass?”
“Well, no.”
“Okay then. Let’s get you home, and we can work on making your life less sucky.”
Two sharp raps sound on the door and a woman reminding Kyle of a football coach he once had walks in. She’s tall and barrel-chested but has soft blue eyes and a headful of soft curls. She glances at Kyle before turning her gaze on the obvious patient. “Chase Lewis? I’m Tabitha. I’ll be your physical therapist for the next few months.” She settles her hands in the pockets of her Kermit-green scrub smock, rather than holding it out for Chase to shake. “Before we let you go, we’re gonna get you started on some exercises.”
“You don’t have to wait here,” says Chase. Whether embarrassment or consideration drive his words, Kyle doesn’t know.
“I’m Kyle Adams,” he says, greeting Tabitha. “I’m actually Chase’s roommate and I’m going to be the one making sure he does his exercises as well as hauling his ass back and forth to rehab. You mind if I stay?”
“Not at all. Good idea,” she agrees with a brightening of her expression and a brisk nod. “Let’s get started.”
Thirty minutes later, Chase is panting and looking distressed with big eyes and flushed cheeks. Tabitha’s shown Kyle how to spot and how to help with Chase’s exercises. She’s also given them both a talking to about Chase asking for help and Kyle not helping too much.
“Go ahead and get dressed. Someone will bring in the paperwork, and once you sign off, you’re free to leave.”
“Thanks,” Kyle says for the both of them.
Tabitha leaves the room with asqueak, squeakof her shoes against the tile.
Kyle eyes Chase who stares at the floor. “So—”
“Can you get a nurse?”
Kyle dismisses the immediate hurt that Chase doesn’t want his help. This isn’t about Kyle, though. It’s about Chase, and if he isn’t quite ready for Kyle to step in, then fine. Once they’re home, tucked up in the cabin, in their shared personal space, it’ll be easier. “Sure, yeah. No problem.”
