Page 45 of Cover Up

“Everyone’s worthy of art,” Felix told him with a shrug. “My mom used to get so freaked-out when she’d go through my sketchbook. She thought something was wrong with me, so she made me go to therapy until the therapist told her that I was just an artist. She didn’t let me go back after that.”

“I got a few choice words for her, but out of respect for the day, I’ll keep them to myself,” Dei said. The passion in his words did something to Felix—a warmth cascading through his chest. But before he could say anything about it, Dei pushed himself up to sit, then swung his leg over the bed.

His back was even more scarred than his front, especially around his shoulder where he’d lost his arm, and Felix fought the urge to touch all the hills and valleys.

“My hip’s a bit out of place right now,” Dei said without turning around. “I’m gonna hop to the bathroom, so promise me you won’t laugh at the sight of my jiggly ass.”

Felix decided not to tell Dei that the last thing he wanted to do with his ass was laugh at it. “I can cover my eyes if that will make you feel better.”

Dei looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Naw, shug. I trust you.”

Those three words hit Felix like a physical blow, and he was helpless to do anything except smile as Dei got to his foot and then—true to his word—hopped across the room and shut the bathroom door behind him.

The moment he was out of sight, Felix rolled onto his back, pressed his hands to his face, and groaned. What he’d give for his only problem that day was figuring out how to get Dei on board with a romantic date and a lot of making out. Instead, he’d have to drag the man to his grandmother’s funeral, play pretend boyfriend in front of his shitty family, and somehow get over that enough to navigate the start of a relationship.

It felt doomed.

Rolling over, Felix climbed off the bed, then shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen. Dei had done a little shopping the day before, but he’d only picked up pastries for breakfast, which Felix was going to avoid like the plague. Sugar and caffeine weren’t ever his friend when he was stressed-out, so he pulled out some of the leftover kebabs and lamented not being able to have coffee as they heated up in the microwave.

He was grabbing a plate when he heard the telltale thump of Dei’s prosthetic foot, and he looked over his shoulder to find the man in question with a white button-up shirt halfway on and a sheepish look on his face.

“You know how when you go on a trip, you always forget at least one important thing?”

Felix frowned. “You’re talking to the guy who can’t even remember his own face in the mirror. So…yes.”

Dei laughed as he took another step closer. “I have all these super badass tools to help me get dressed, but I forgot the one to do up my buttons, and my fat, stumpy fingers don’t cooperate without it.”

Felix grinned and beckoned him close, basking in the warmth of him when they were inches apart. Dei smelled very faintly like aftershave and soap, and Felix took a deep breath as he tugged Dei’s shirt so it was even, then did up all the buttons.

“Pants?” he asked as he took a step back.

Dei shook his head as he tucked his shirt in. “There’s a website that sells clothes for fuckers like me. I didn’t get a chance to order a shirt in time, but got me some Velcro.”

Felix’s grin widened. His emotions were warring in his chest, fighting between grief, which he knew was going to feel ten times worse once they got to the funeral, and the need to just say fuck the complicated situation and hold Dei for real.

Instead, he went back to his plate, leaning against the counter as he picked at some of the meat. “So. Just to warn you, some of my family might be kind of vocal about me. And probably us.”

Dei scoffed and reached past Felix for the pastry box, taking out one of the plain croissants. “There’s not a whole lot I haven’t heard back from when I was in the service. I don’t think anything your family can say will be worse than that.”

Felix dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. “Well…if they do, I need you to let it go, okay? Even if they’re really fucking mean to me.”

He saw something flash over Dei’s expression, but it was gone before he could figure it out. Felix didn’t know if it was a him problem or if it was the fact that Dei’s poker face was amazing, but he accepted it when Dei nodded.

“Whatever you need from me, sugar.”

“Thank you.” Felix turned and put his plate in the sink, and when he spun back around, Dei was a few steps closer. “Did you—”

“Come here.”

Felix moved like he was helpless against Dei’s command, and in seconds, he was engulfed in a powerful, warm embrace that felt like actual heaven. He buried his face in the front of Dei’s shirt and groaned slightly when fingers pushed into his hair.

“Had a feeling you needed that,” Dei murmured.

Felix hated himself for his weakness, but it didn’t feel terrible to admit it. He nodded, refusing to step back in spite of the little voice inside his head telling him he was being too greedy—taking too much. But he couldn’t bring himself to care right then. The grief he’d been ignoring since he’d gotten the phone call from his sister suddenly felt like water pressing against a failing dam.

“Hold on to me, darlin’,” Dei whispered.

Felix tightened his grip, but his lungs began to burn, and his knees began to shake. Panic erupted through his body. He didn’t want to fall apart. He knew pain wasn’t weakness, but he didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

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