Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath coming in short gasps by the time he reached the second-floor landing of the apartment building. Adam leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath as Jimmy stepped around him to open the door. Fuck, it felt like he'd just run a marathon instead of walking up one flight of steps.

Jimmy looked at him over his shoulder as he held the door open. "You okay over there?"

"Would you do anything if I wasn't?"

"Hey, you're the one who said you didn't help, who insisted you could do everything on your own."

Adam grunted, considered telling him to fuck off, changed his mind. He didn't have the energy. Besides, cussing Jimmy out would be nothing more than wasted breath because the man wouldn't care.

Adam pushed off the wall and walked the few steps into his apartment. The air wasn't as stale as he expected, probably because Mikey and Angie had been there yesterday to clean up. Not that there was much to clean up—Adam had never been a slob to begin with. But when an apartment sat empty for eight days, there was bound to be a little dust.

Eight days. Christ, he still couldn't believe it. It had seemed so much longer, the days blurring into each other, marked by nothing more than varying degrees of pain. They had finally sent him home today, with a long list of instructions, precautions, and prescriptions.

Jimmy moved into the kitchen and rummaged through the pharmacy bag, pulling out different bottles of pills and lining them up along the counter. He held one up, studied the label, then grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water.

"It's time for this one. You need to take another dose before you go to bed tonight. You about ready for a pain pill? It looks like you could use one."

Adam shook his head. "No, not yet."

"You sure? You don't want to wait until the pain gets so bad it's unbearable. You're supposed to stay ahead of it."

"Yeah, I know. And yeah, I'm sure." He moved to the counter and lowered himself onto one of the stools as Jimmy slid the glass toward him. Adam tossed the pill into his mouth and washed it down with a long gulp of water, then winced when pain shot through his shoulder from moving the wrong way.

"You sure about that pill?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. The only thing I want right now is a long hot shower. I haven't felt clean since that fucking fire."

"I still don't think that's a good idea, not with that fracture."

"The doc said I could, so that's exactly what I'm going to do. Trust me, I don't plan on moving my arm any more than I have to."

"Still don't know why I got suckered into helping you out today. The last thing I want to do is help you wash your sorry ass."

"Then don't. I can manage myself."

Jimmy laughed, the sound a short burst of disbelief. So okay, maybe Adam did need some help. They both knew it. That didn't mean he had to be excited about it.

"Well, whenever you're ready."

"Yeah, give me a minute." Adam closed his eyes and slowly straightened, doing his best not to jostle the arm. It felt good just to be home. To sit on his own furniture, even if it was just a stool. To breathe in the scents of home instead of the sharp odors of disinfectant.

He breathed in again, frowning, then shook his head as recognition dawned. Cinnamon and pine, just in time for the upcoming holiday season that was right around the corner. They'd obviously used scented air freshener or something when they came over yesterday.

It actually wasn't that bad. Maybe he'd ask Mikey what kind, just in case he wanted to use some again. Just in case he had company or something.

Yeah, that probably wasn't going to happen, not unless it was the guys from work. Why the hell would he waste air freshener on any of them?

Adam slid off the stool, his steps slow and cautious as he made his way back to his room. Jimmy followed, turning into the bathroom. He heard the sound of the faucet being turned on, heard the sound of water running. Christ, this was a new low, needing help to take a fucking shower.

Whatever. He didn't care. As long as he could get clean.

He turned on the light in his bedroom then came to a stop in the doorway. What the fuck? Damn Mikey. Why the hell had she brought that stupid fucking thing here? He'd told her he didn't want it, told her to take it home or give it away or toss it out.

Did she really think bringing the stupid stuffed bear here and leaving it on his pillow was going to make any difference? No, it wasn't.

There was nothing between Beth and him, no matter how much Mikey insisted otherwise. Yes, Beth had stopped by to visit. Yes, he liked her. Okay, yeah, maybe he even cared about her—for as much as he was capable of caring about anyone. But he hadn't heard from Beth since the day she had come to see him, the day she had given him that stupid—that cute—little fireman bear.

Adam was pretty sure he knew why he hadn't heard from her. It was because of whatever he'd said just before he totally crashed under the pain medication. The problem was, he had no idea what he said.

No, the real problem was—he thought he did know. Maybe.

And what the hell. It didn't matter. Beth had been gone when he came to. Which was fine. She deserved better anyway.

A hell of a lot better than what he could ever give her.

"Are you jumping in here or did you pass out on the floor?" Jimmy's voice floated in from the bathroom. Adam stepped toward the dresser, pointedly ignoring the bear resting against his pillow, and grabbed everything he needed: socks, underwear, sweatpants, t-shirt. He glanced down at the t-shirt, frowned, then placed it back in the drawer. No way in hell would he be able to get a t-shirt on, not yet.

He hobbled back to the bathroom and placed the clean clothes on the small shelf unit tucked into the corner. Then it was time to strip down, something easier said than done in spite of the loose clothes he was wearing.

Jimmy grumbled, muttering under his breath the entire time he helped. Adam almost told him to leave, that he'd do it himself—except he couldn't, and they both knew it.

"I don't know why the hell you just can't wait to have your girlfriend come help you out."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, right. That's why she came to see you."

"One time. Doesn't mean anything."

"If you say so. That's why—"

"Fuck. Holy shit. Watch it. That fucking hurt." Adam grabbed his right shoulder, his eyes closed against the hard throbbing caused by Jimmy pulling the sling free.

"Sorry, accident."

"Yeah, I bet."

Jimmy ignored the accusation then slid the shower curtain to the side. "You sure you can handle this by yourself? You don't want to wait?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Adam climbed over the edge of the tub, each movement slow and careful so he wouldn't jostle his arm or shoulder or ribs. Although the ribs didn't hurt too much, as long as he was careful.

He closed his eyes and stood under the hot spray of water, his body slowly relaxing as warmth seeped into him. God, this was almost like heaven.

No, heaven would be if Beth was here with him.

He stifled a groan when he noticed the first faint stirrings in his cock. Great, just what didn't need. He pushed all thoughts of Beth from his mind and reached for the shower gel, squeezing some onto the top of his head, some more onto his chest.

Lathering up using his left hand was awkward, clumsy. More than once he had started to use his right, only to be stopped by a quick stab of pain. It wasn't the most thorough cleansing he'd ever done, but he still felt a hell of a lot better than he had earlier.

Adam waited until the water changed from hot to lukewarm then reached behind him to turn it off. He wiped the water from his face then stuck his hand outside the shower curtain.

"Jimmy, can you hand me a towel?"

Silence.

Adam sighed, waved his hand around, blindly searching for the towel rack. "Jimmy!"

The towel was thrust into his hand without a word. Adam muttered his impatient thanks then wiped down as best he could before rubbing the towel over his head. He draped it over his shoulder then pushed back the shower curtain, ready to step out.

And froze.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if maybe he fell in the shower. Wondering if he hit his head and was suffering from some kind of weird hallucination.

He opened his eyes and stared.

No, he wasn't imagining things. Beth was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. Her gaze dropped, shot back to his face as a blush spread across her face.

Adam scrambled for the towel, tried to untangle it and get it spread in front of him. It dropped into the tub, completely useless. He started to bend down to grab it, felt a sharp pain and quickly straightened.

"Uh. I—Beth."

"Hi."

"Uh, yeah. Hi." Adam climbed over the edge of the tub, grabbed another towel from the towel rack and awkwardly wrapped it around his waist. "What—what are you doing here?"

Shit, did he have to sound so unwelcoming? So stunned? Yes, he was surprised—totally blown away. But it was a good surprise—he thought. Maybe. Unless he really had knocked himself unconscious and was only imagining her standing there.

She rocked back on her heels, her gaze dancing around the small room before finally resting on him again. "Someone said you, uh, might need a haircut."

"A haircut?"

"Yeah. To fix, you know, the singed ends."

Adam almost raised his hand to run it through his hair, caught himself—and the towel—at the last minute. "A haircut?"

Beth fidgeted, uncertainty clear in her gaze. She looked away, staring down at her feet. "I can come back—"

"No!" Adam took a step toward her, stopped, cleared his throat. "No. I mean, you're here, right? Might as well."

"Good. Okay. Good. I'll meet you in the dining room."

Adam nodded, his mind still reeling. "Is, uh, is Jimmy still here?"

"No, he left already. Why? Do you need help?"

Fuck. He wished he could say no. He really wanted to say no. But no way in hell could he manage the sling and the pants by himself, not using his left hand. Not without hurting himself.

He swallowed back his pride and offered a small grin. "Yeah. Probably. I mean, at least with the sling."

Beth didn't hesitate. She grabbed the sling from the counter and closed the distance between them. She unfolded it, studying it with a frown before tossing him a confused look. Adam told her how to place it, turned around so she could settle it over his head. Her fingers brushed the back of his neck, grazed the skin of his left shoulder. He heard her gasp, felt her fingers trace the bruise that ran along his back. Gentle, featherlight, as if she was afraid of hurting him.

Adam closed his eyes and held his breath, told his body not to react, told himself her touch meant nothing. Even if it did, there was nothing he could do about it, not now.

"It's from the bottle. Where I landed on it. It doesn't really hurt."

"It looks like it would." Her fingers hesitated, so warm against his skin, then finally moved away. Her movements turned brisk, quick and efficient as she fastened the sling around him and secured it in place. "Anything else?"

Shit. Could he manage the sweatpants with one hand? Maybe now that his arm was immobilized, it wouldn't jostle so much. He'd still have to bend over, still have to struggle to get his legs through each opening.

He had to do it himself. He couldn't let Beth help him, not when his cock was—not surprisingly—already coming to life. Yeah, she'd seen it before. Held it, stroked it, sucked it. But this…this was different. Too intimate somehow. Too personal. It made him feel vulnerable, required a trust he wasn't quite ready to give.

A trust he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to give. Not just to Beth—to anyone.

"No, I think I'm good."

He sensed her disappointment, heard the hesitation in her voice when she spoke. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

"I'll be in the other room if you need anything."

He heard the door close behind her, released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Everything. Nothing.

He grabbed the sweatpants and lowered himself to the edge of the tub. Then he just stared at them, the dark blue lettering running down the left leg blurring against the gray fabric.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

The question—somehow an accusation—spun through his mind, over and over. Was he so fucked up he couldn't accept help from a woman who obviously cared about him? Was he so afraid of admitting to any vulnerability that he'd rather risk hurting himself than asking for—accepting—help?

If it had been Jimmy—or Dave or Jay or fuck, even Mikey—he would have never hesitated. But Beth? He couldn't do it. Couldn't let any weakness be exposed.

Couldn't let himself trust.

Not in himself, not in the chance that Beth really might care for him. He didn't want her to care for him, was afraid of what that might mean.

Was afraid he'd do something wrong, that he'd twist and warp whatever she felt until it became something else, something dirty and sick and depraved. Until it blackened and shriveled and died.

Just like him.

Just like his soul.