CHAPTER FOUR
Tank
A few days home and I’m wishing like hell I was back in the hospital. It’s not like I actually enjoyed being in the place, but there was a sense of safety I felt. Nurses were around at all times, if I needed it, there was an IV of medication that could knock me out of my misery for a few hours. No one questioned when I asked for it. There the pain wasn’t so all-consuming. Doctors and nurses came in at all hours of the goddamn day and night, it gave me something else to concentrate on. In my home I can’t get away from my pain, can’t get away from the thoughts running through my head, can’t get away from Blaze’s hot body always so close to mine. I know part of the problem is I won’t take the painkillers, but I hate the way they make me feel. And I can’t physically take Blaze, because that’s just work I can’t do quite yet.
“Trevor, where are you?”
My stomach clenches as I hear the voice of the woman-turned-angel who’s overseeing my care. Having Blaze fulfill every need I have is both amazingly sweet of her, but at the same time incredibly frustrating. We’re stuck in close quarters, and we’re so fucking careful with one another, I almost want to antagonize her into an argument to see those green eyes flash with fire and annoyance.
“Back here in the den,” I yell so she can hear me. It seriously sucks trying to get up right now, but an ingrained part of my manhood can’t help but ask. “Do you need help?”
Her tone of voice is a warning. “Don’t even think about it, Trev.”
But I do think about it, and she’s been gone for a few hours, getting stuff I need around here. A tightness settles in my gut. I’m used to doing things for myself, and knowing she’s had to do those errands kills a portion of my pride. Thankful I was given the okay to use crutches, I force my body upright and off the couch. It takes me almost a full sixty seconds to grit through the pain. Every time my leg isn’t elevated, it fucking kills me. Something about the blood rushing down to where the hardware they’ve used to put it back together is located. My arms ache when I test putting my two hundred and twenty pounds on them to swing myself forward, but I grit though that shit, too. Nothing’s ever been handed to me, and I don’t think this recovery is going to be easy. Not by a long shot.
She glances up at me as I hobble into the kitchen, exasperation on her face. “I told you to stay in there.”
The fire and annoyance I wanted earlier? It rages in her eyes and I can’t help the smile I direct her way. “When have I ever been good at following directions?”
She laughs, the sound deep and throaty, going straight to my dick. Good, because I haven’t felt anything there in a while and I was a little worried. Unfortunately, the only thing I can do is lean against the kitchen cabinets and watch her unload the groceries she’s bought.
Blaze is gorgeous today, wearing a pair of cut off jean shorts with an old Brantley Gilbert concert t-shirt. It always amazes people she likes him, but if you ask her, she’ll sit and give you a run-down of the twenty plus times she’s seen him. She bought his first CD online from a boot store in Georgia – she’s a legit fan – and don’t try to say she’s not. Them’s fightin’ words.
“Why don’t you go over there and have a seat. I’ll make us some lunch and you can take a pain pill,” she directs that sharp gaze at me.
We’ve fought over the pain pill issue since I came home. I saw so many guys get addicted to them. They used them to block the pain both physical and emotional, and then they couldn’t live without them. I don’t ever want that to be me. I already know from having a taste of Blaze, I have a fucking addictive personality. Even though I went on dates with other women while we were broken up, I did it to make her jealous in hopes it would show her she missed me. The truth? Since the moment I met her, there’s never been anyone else for me except her.
“Wow,” she turns her back to me, putting the bread on a shelf where she can reach it, as I have a seat, propping my crutches against the back of the chair, as I turn my body around. “The fact you didn’t argue says a lot about the pain you’re really in.”
I shrug, reaching over to pull up another chair, thankful for my long arms as I prop my leg up. If I’m honest it hurts like a bitch. “I might be willing to take one.”
Blaze
To say I’m amazed at the words coming out of Trevor’s mouth is an understatement. He’s fought me tooth and nail about the pain pill issue. I’ve watched him be in agony for days and the only thing he does is grit his teeth and bear it. Watching it is hard, almost as hard as him being in the hospital when I know there’s something he could do for it. I understand his reservations, but I come from the school of helping people and when it’s as simple as taking a pill; you just do it.
“You’ll finally get a good sleep if you do,” I gently persuade him. “I know what you’re afraid of and I’m here to make sure you don’t depend on them.”
He sighs when I mention them again. His annoyance is an elephant in the room. He’s been on edge since he came home and I think it’s because he hasn’t let himself completely rest. I think he’s scared to allow it. But now I’m saying enough, he’s never going to get well if he doesn’t.
I turn around and suck in a breath, struck dumb by the long, lean body in front of me. While he tilts his head back, I let my gaze travel along the picture he makes in front of me. Because he’s hurting, he’s sweating more than normal, which means he’s been going around with no shirt on. Right or wrong, I’ve been giving a thanks to the Heavens above. Trevor Trumbolt is a tall drink of water, as my mom would say.
His biceps bulge where he’s got his arms crossed in front of a chest that’s broad thanks to hard work in the gym. I’ve watched him before; he lifts heavy and runs long distances, which definitely helps his stamina, if you know what I mean. It allows him to be strong, but lean and not overly muscled.
His chest is smooth and most of the hair Trevor sports is on his head and his face. I’ve never seen him without at least a goatee, but since he’s been laid up, he’s let the beard grow, allowing what he already had in place to thicken.
He’s still not paying attention to me, so I allow my gaze to continue down to his flat stomach. Ridges and dips of flesh paint shadows along his skin. Those v-dips? I’ve licked them. Not ashamed to say it. I’ve thought about them more often than I should have, and I’ve caught myself being mesmerized by them a time or two the last forty-eight hours. Specifically, when he’s struggling to get up and he relies strictly on his core. Dayum that core is strong.
Sweatpants stop my journey. Just below the v-dips he’s got fleece on and even though they ride low on his hips, I don’t think they’ll be coming off anytime soon. Before I realize it, my gaze has drifted down to the bulge I can see so prominently pressing against the soft material.
Shaking myself, I pull my gaze back up to his head. The longish blonde hair is up in a manbun, which I used to call ridiculous. Now, it gives him a manlier appearance if that’s even possible. The days in the hospital have leaned him out further, causing his jawbone to form a sharper line and giving him a more dangerous edge.
His eyes open and he rolls his head to the side, blue eyes glowing so dark they’re almost black. “Do I pass inspection?” His tone is both amused and sarcastic – the smirk on his face complete smartass.
I give him my own smirk as I clear my throat and shake off the arousal flowing through my body. “You know I think you’re a very good looking man, Trev. Attraction was never the issue between us.”
He’s quiet as I go about throwing away the grocery bags and cleaning off the counters. I wonder what’s going through his head, he never tells me, and if there’s one thing I want, it’s him to confide in me.
He opens his mouth, but instead of what I want to hear, he asks a question. “What’s for lunch?”
“How hungry are you?”
He runs a hand down his stomach, calling attention to the smooth expanse of skin. “If I’m going to take a pill, I need carbs to help me absorb it. I don’t want to feel fucked up, Blaze. You know I don’t like it.”
If there’s one thing Trevor hates, it’s feeling out of control.
“How about I make us both a baked potato and some grilled chicken to put on top? Then you can take your pain pill and lie down.”
He seems to consider what I’ve asked for a moment, but then a mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Will you lie down with me?”
I’m asking for trouble if I do, and I know it. The problem is, it’s always been hard for me to say no to Trevor – about anything. He rests better with me next to him. This is a fact since he’s been hurt.
Truthfully, since we’ve been home, I miss him. He’s not as accessible as he was in the hospital. There he was vulnerable, willing to let himself accept help. Here he’s not so easy to read. He sure as hell doesn’t accept or ask for help the way he did in Birmingham and if I’m honest…I’m tired.
“I’ll lie down with you, but I want you to sleep.”
He crosses his heart with his finger. “Promise babe, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
Grabbing some potatoes, I poke holes in them and put them in the microwave to cook. While that’s heating, I grab the leftover chicken we had last night, and get it ready to nuke. This is not fancy, but Trevor seems to appreciate anything I do for him. In those aspects, he’s a good patient. Telling me his pain level truthfully and taking care of himself? He fucking sucks at that.
“How’s your leg?” I wash my hands, going to stand beside him.
“It hurts today,” he admits grimacing slightly as he moves it to try and get more comfortable.
“Trev, you can’t overdo it.” I wish they’d put him in a brace instead of a plaster cast, but with the hardware he received it was necessary to make sure his leg heals correctly. Part of that is going to be Trevor allowing his body time to heal itself. I walk over to him, running my hands down his face, kissing his forehead. “You aren’t Superman, you’ve got to take it easy.”
He leans into my caress, allowing himself a few moments of quiet. “You’re fuckin’ right I’m not Superman,” he mumbles. “If anything, I’m Batman, he’s way more badass.”
I giggle as I make my way over to the microwave, which has beeped. Within minutes, I have our food and drinks ready, setting them on the table, so we both have access.
“You take one this afternoon and if it works, you take one tonight,” I say as I hand Trevor a white pill. “You have to rest.”
“You’ll be with me?”
Only I know the depth of that question, what it costs him to ask it and how much it means that he did. Reaching over, I grab his hand.
“I’ll be with you no matter what you need.”