He snorted and shook his head. “Nah, dude. She was working in London back then. I didn’t know if we’d ever get the chance to be a thing, and I was dealing with a lot of personal shit, thanks to my legs. You know how it goes when your body no longer does the things it used to do.”
I knew that far too well.
“They made me feel sexy. It was nice. My wife does too, but she also makes me feel safe. I have zero regrets.”
“Mine—he’s younger than me. He’s part of a whole world that I’m not in, and it feels like I’m chasing this moving target with him that’ll never stop. But I can’t bring myself to let him go whenever he’s around me. Especially because he doesn’t want me to.” I could feel the memory of Ferris’s body against mine—of his dick in my throat, and his hands on my shoulders—like it was a physical thing.
“Don’t overthink it. Have fun. And maybe the fun will become something else, you know? Or maybe it won’t. Just don’t be a dick about it. Or to him.”
There wasn’t a chance in hell I was ever going to be cruel to Ferris. Not even when I should—not even when it might be for his own good.
“Or…not?” Alex said with a small frown.
I sighed and shook my head. “No. You’re right. I’m just kind of learning how.”
His face softened. “Be easier on yourself, yeah? You seem like a good guy.”
Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. The harshest truth was, I had no idea what kind of person I was at all.
Chapter Fifteen
Quinn
Ferris looked exhausted.There were dark circles under his eyes, and he hadn’t perked up the way he normally did when he saw me coming to call him back. His session went fine. His ankle was far more weight-bearing than it had been, and though the break was still giving him pain, he was managing without crutches for parts of the day.
We’d just hit the three-week mark, which meant he was ahead of schedule, but for his age, that was normal. And I’d made sure to mention that, but he had almost no response when I did.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked after spraying down the table he’d been lying on.
Ferris was sitting in a chair, and he looked up at me, but the motion was so slow, almost like he was sedated. “Talk about what?”
“You’re not yourself.” I walked over and eased down into the rolling chair, making sure my leg stretched to the side of him. “Is it something I did?”
Our sessions were intimate, but we hadn’t touched again—not like we had at my place. And I was trying to be better aboutnot inviting him over. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe I was blurring the lines, and he didn’t know where he stood.
He blinked slowly. “Um.” He paused, and I waited for his mouth to catch up with his brain. “I had a really bad night. My mom and I got into an argument, and I had a meltdown, and she yelled at me. She apologized after. I think she wants to go home. But it was hard not being allowed to calm down on my own. She wouldn’t stop yelling until I stopped crying, and I ended up pacing my bedroom most of the night.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured. His shoulders hunched up the way they always did when I said something that made him happy. “Why doesn’t she go home? You’re doing so much better now.”
He glanced away from me. “It’s what we were fighting about. I’m the youngest, so she’s…protective. But I’m also autistic, and I don’t think she gets what that means. When I was a toddler, my doctor told her I might not ever speak or be able to take care of myself. She was prepared to be my caregiver for the rest of my life.” He went quiet for a beat. “I think she never really let that go. I think she’s always been waiting for me to fall apart.”
Reaching for him, I took his hands and squeezed, and he offered me a very small smile. “Living with your friends in a frat house doesn’t give her a lot of confidence, does it?”
He laughed. “Uh, no. Not really. But there’s no real point in that, you know? I have to move out next week.”
I frowned. “What? Why? Did they kick you out?”
“Oh. No. It’s…I graduated. Well, I’m done with finals. I graduate the weekend after next. And I’m supposed to meet with, um…with someone from the Bruins? To get me an apartment, but then they told me that was being pushed for a few weeks until they’re sure I’m going to be skating this season.”
My stomach twisted. The organization could be amazing—but it could also be complete shit sometimes. “What if you cameto stay with—” I stopped myself because no. Fuck no. That was crossing every single goddamn line.
He looked up at me, ducking his head so he could snag my gaze. “What?”
“It was a bad idea. Ignore me?—”
“You want me to live with you?”
I felt all the air rush out of my lungs. “I was going to offer. It would be crossing so many boundaries, but if it meant your mom would go back home and let you recoup and you also had a place to go while you wait for me to discharge you, maybe she’d relax.”
