“A little. I could do with a shower and an early night.”
The rolling of my eyes was immediate. “Concussions suck,” I grumbled, repeating Sutton’s words from earlier and wondering when my thirty-three years felt so old. Sure, I abused my body with the training and with just how hard I pushed to be in peak condition, more so than the average Joe my age, but still, it was a hell of a thing realizing I couldn’t just bounce back after an injury. Reminded of my broken digit, I peered at it, bringing it out before me and wishing I could bend it.
“Your hand hurting?”
“Nah. Just annoying me.”
The sound of Sutton opening his bag caught my attention. I glanced in his direction, and my gaze landed on his bare chest. A clean T-shirt was in his hands, ready to pull on. I paused, watching his muscles move and ripple, his focus intent on the blue cotton. Struggling to pull away from his movements and the expanse of dark skin, I remained rooted to the spot. For the life of me, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t pull my damn attention away.
“You okay?”
Like a bucket of cold water, Sutton’s words smashed into me. I jolted into action, nodding, barely making eye contact, before mumbling about needing the restroom and hightailing it out of there.
Once there were two doors between us, the bathroom door safely locked, I stood at the sink with the faucet running. I splashed my face and risked a glance in the mirror. Maybe my reflection could make heads or tails of what that little moment was about. ’Cause fuck if I knew. Sure, I was looking at Sutton. That was something I could acknowledge. What confused me was my difficulty in pulling my attention away. Considering I’d seen his body, seen the man shower and change more times than I could poke a stick at, I just didn’t get what I’d been so fixated on.
Was I admiring his chest? Admittedly he was built, fit, but not weight-training buff. Had I appreciated the expanse of brown skin on display? Was it kind of weird that I had? In those few moments that had passed, I didn’t think much of anything, truth be told, but now?
I splashed more water on my face and washed my hands as best as I could with the finger strapping. Whatever that moment was, it was over, and I needed to stop being weird. Between my anti-nausea meds, painkillers, and the pills that helped me sleep, I was almost rattling. It meant I couldn’t trust anything I said, thought, or did.
Plus, Sutton had flown all this way to be here with me after our, what… estrangement? It was a lot to get my head around.
Then there was the whole fiancé thing that the two of us were doggedly avoiding. But the huge-ass elephant in the room needed to be dealt with. I patted my face dry, not sure I had the energy for dealing with the club’s PR or the press in general. Fuck, then there were my parents.
Knowing my mom, she’d have made Dad go to the store to buy a Pride flag by now. Mom didn’t give a shit who I loved. To paraphrase, if I met anyone who could put up with my bullshit, keep me in check, and love me like Westley did Buttercup, then she’d be happy. She’d told me that at least once a year since I was sixteen.
No doubt when she read the gossip columns, or tweets, or whatever her source was, and read Sutton was not only the one to love me, but we were engaged, she’d throw a party. It was no secret she adored him. Both my parents did.
Since there was nothing I was willing to do about any of it at the moment, I left the bathroom and focused on the relief of my head not pounding. I could hear Sutton in the kitchen. I smiled as I entered, taking in the scene of a man on a mission.
My eyebrows lifted at the collection of food on the countertops. “You weren’t that long in the grocery store. I’m impressed, man.” Immediately I moved to his side, picked up the knife he’d laid out, and started cutting the veggies. “Stir fry?”
“You know it,” he said lightly.
Preparing a meal with Sutton was effortless. We’d spent enough time over the almost twenty years of knowing each other cooking together; we could do this blindfolded. The thought made me chuckle. “You remember that time in Cali, and we did the blindfolded charity event?”
Amusement lightened his words when he said, “How could I forget? You knocked me on my ass after headbutting my junk while trying to limbo.” Sutton’s laughter was warm and soothing. “Left me cross-eyed for an hour. I swear your head is harder than concrete.”
“Ha. Well, I thought so too until this damn concussion.”
At my side, Sutton grimaced. “Yeah, could have done with that extra protection for sure.”
The last thing I wanted was to bring the mood down, but there was still the massive elephant in the room we’d yet to tackle since escaping the hospital. “So, you turned your phone on yet?”
“Nope.” He handed me a slice of carrot to munch on before popping a slice in his mouth.
“You know, I let Mark Lonsdale kiss me in college.” I grinned as I spoke, waiting for a reaction. Sutton whipping his head in my direction was worth me sitting on this nugget for all this time. “As kisses went, it was decent. A bit too much tongue.”
Wide-eyed, he placed down the knife and turned to me. I mimicked his action, not wiping the grin from my face. “You’re messing with me.”
“Nuh-uh.” It was a memory I was pretty fond of, truth be told. While it didn’t do much for me and I hadn’t wanted a repeat, it was all right as kisses went. “Sophomore year. Mark told me he thought he was gay and was freaking out. I offered my services.” My shrug was deliberately nonchalant. I loved getting a rise from Sutton whenever I could. It was one of my favorite pastimes.
Rendered speechless, he simply stared at me, the whites of his eyes more visible than usual.
“Turns out he was gay, and he dated a guy from the swim team about six months later.” I stretched, puffing out my chest and adding a wink at my friend for good measure. “Thought about running a community service program of sorts, you know, doing a good deed.”
Narrowed eyes formed and peered back at me. “That really happen?”
“Scout’s honor. And yes, you know damn well I was a Scout.”
