“Why?”
“You haven’t seen how many guys get hooked—”
“Y’know, we got the addiction lecture, second day of training camp. One of the things they said was that taking a decent med for short term pain isn’t going to addict you.”
“It’s been a week since my injury.”
“Pretty sure when it comes to broken bones and ripped ligaments, that’s still short term.”
Cross would’ve argued but he’d almost missed Scotty scoring a goal with how up in his head he was. “Okay, I guess.”
“Where are they?”
“Bedside table. Water bottle too.”
Rusty brought over the vial and the water.
Cross made sure it was the right thing, then swallowed one down. “I hate taking meds. They make me fuzzy.” He knew he was pouting like a child but couldn’t make himself stop. “And you’re here, but I’ll get sleepy and then you’ll be in Kansas.”
Rusty sat and gazed earnestly into Cross’s eyes. “I don’t have to go.”
Then don’t.Cross wanted to tell Rusty to stay, that he could live in the Portland house, have the meal plan deliveries for free, practice all he wanted on the basement fake ice.And drive three hours each way to keep you company? How selfish are you, LaCroix?Rusty wasn’t a guy who thrived on solitude and that house had been lonely enough for Cross, who’d once thought he did.
His brain stuttered at that realization, then he pushed it aside.
Scott would be back at the ranch soon. Will and Casey and Rusty’s best friend Kris were there, plus other people Rusty knew, friends from school maybe. His family might suck, but in Kansas, Rusty had a support system. Cross would make sure Scotty was up for skating with the kid at that dinky rink in Masons Crossing. Maybe Cross could chip in for a skills coach to do a visit, tell Scotty to claim it was for his own benefit.
Either way, it would be selfish to keep Rusty hanging around.
“No, you should go. It’s the right thing.” Cross looked away, but not before he saw Rusty’s blue eyes go blank and distant. “I’m stuck here for a month, maybe six weeks, till I can put some weight on my left leg. I could go home with nursing help, but this is easier. I’m going to be useless. You might as well be in Kansas.”
“I’m not with you because you’re useful.”
“You’re not with me at all.” Rusty’s indrawn breath showed those words had landed wrong. Maybe the med was hitting fast or maybe it was just the pain, but Cross’s brain felt full of cotton wool. “I mean here, in rehab.” He fumbled for Rusty’s hand, trying to make the point. “I meant… I’m not sure what I meant. Life kinda sucks right now.”
Rusty squeezed his fingers, then leaned in for a fast kiss. “And not the good kind of sucking, with the meds and all, am I right?”
“No. Yes.” Cross blinked. He still wasn’t sure about the good kind of sucking. He’d been given a few blow jobs by Willow, with a little pharmaceutical help, and sometimes he’d come, eventually, but they were kind of messy and not great, and sometimes no matter the stimulation, it wasn’t enough.Wrong person. It’ll be different with Rusty, once I’m back on my feet.
He liked this part, though, sitting side by side, touching each other. Liked having Rusty close. Drugs and pain or no, he cupped the back of Rusty’s neck and pulled him into another kiss.
When they were done, Rusty unmuted the commentary and they spent ten minutes contradicting the sportscaster who was dissing the Vancouver goalie for the Rafters’ goal.
“Edzie’s just that good,” Cross told the talking head on the screen. “Admit it.”
The second period began, and Cross felt the Percocet taking hold. The ankle hot pokers blunted to toothpicks. He couldn’t feel his pulse throbbing anymore. On the downside, three restless nights were catching up on him and his eyelids kept drooping.
If this was his last time to have Rusty around— for however long— he should be taking advantage of it. Should be talking, kissing, doing something other than leaning sideways against Rusty’s shoulder, the wheelchair arm digging into his ribs, and mumbling about three-on-two.
Rusty brushed what felt like a kiss on Cross’s hair. “You’re fading on me.”
“Sleeping like crap. I keep dreaming stuff.”
“I’m sorry. Should I ring for someone to get you into bed?”
“No way.” He raised his head, blinking hard. “Gonna watch the game with you.”
“Sure.” Rusty maneuvered his chair up tight at Cross’s side and slung an arm across the back of the wheelchair. “I’m in awe of your pearls of wisdom.”
