Page 44 of Warrior's Walk
“Ignoring the problem won’t fix it.”
“I didn’t bang it when I fell, it just locked up on me. I landed on my ass. Maybe you should check that.” He’s trying for humor, but his face is drawn too tightly with pain for me to laugh.
“It’s probably inflamed from your workout earlier today. Maybe I pushed you too hard,” I murmur, thinking out loud and feeling guilty for pushing him.
“Don’t start. This would happen whether you pushed me or not. It’s just a fact of my life now,” he says miserably.
Worry gnaws at my gut like bitter acid. “We need to apply ice to reduce the swelling. Did you hurt anything else when you fell?”
“Like I said, you’ll have to check me overthoroughly.”
Before I can stop myself, a laugh bubbles up from my throat. It’s the most absurd situation to try to flirt with me, but it doesn’t stop Rhett.
I have no idea how to get him to the bed besides to pick him up in my arms and carry him. All one hundred and sixty wet, naked pounds of him. As a trained combat medic and physical therapist, I’ve learned the ins and outs of body mechanics, and how to roll a person’s dead weight onto your body to carry them from a seated or prone position.
“What the fuck?” he asks as I maneuver his body. It takes a minute—he’s slippery and fucking solid—but I push to my feet with a grunt. Rhett loses his towel in the process, but he’s not shy and I don’t give a fuck. I’m more concerned about getting him to the bed. It takes great effort to lay him down gently instead of dumping his ass in a heap, and my body goes down with him.
Suddenly, his nakedness is a thing.
The heat of his body sears my skin.
His warm breaths merge with my harsher gasps, becoming one shared breath.
My heart swells with adrenaline, beating as furiously as a hummingbird’s wings.
I can feel his eyes on me, searching my face, pleading with me to look at him.
If you look at him, you’re going to kiss him.
Hewantsyou to kiss him.
Don’t fucking do it, Riggs! Don’t look.
It’s as if the air between us is charged with magnetic electrons, compelling me to look him in the eye. And when I do, when I finally raise my eyes to meet his, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I can’t catch my breath, I can’t swallow, and I can’t think of anything but how he tastes. I lick my lips, softening them for him, and my head draws closer to his. His throat slides as he struggles to swallow, and his lips part for me.
I can taste his breath and it’s so, so sweet.
He touches his mouth to mine, soft, warm lips, and I feel his wet tongue snake out to lick my bottom lip.
And I… I can’t. My conscience is screaming at me like a coach with a bullhorn, warning me to pull back, to run.
But it doesn’t prepare me for the look of rejection and hurt in his eyes.Nothingcan prepare me for that devastating blow.
Way to fucking go, Riggs. Like he hasn’t been hurt enough already.
“Rhett—”
“Don’t, Riggs. Whatever you’re gonna say, don’t. I get it, you’re not interested.” His head flops down on the pillow with a sigh. “I don’t know what I was thinkin’. Look at me,” he laughs derisively. “I can’t even pick myself up off the floor without your help. I had to call you to put me to bed—a bed that you bought for me. In fact, you furnished this whole fuckin’ place for me. I’ve got nothing. No life, no future, no hope. Why in the fuck would you want to hitch your wagon to my horse?” He shakes his head. “I don’t blame you. I just… I had to try. Didn’t realize until just now how far above myself I was reachin’.”
“You’re wrong, soldier. It’s not possible for you to reach too high. Trust me, you’re worth it. I just… I can’t.”
“It’s fine, it’s… whatever. I’d rather have you as a friend than nothin’ at all.”
We lay like that for a minute in silence, and I rack my brain trying to think of what to say to make it better, but I’ve got nothing.
“My leg really fuckin’ hurts,” he complains.
“Let me get you some ice for your knee.” I rise to my feet and throw the edge of the blanket over his body, for his sake and mine.