On His Turf (26 page)
***
I find Shane out in the hall sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. For a moment I consider not approaching as it looks like he’s asleep but when the soles of my shoes squeak against the linoleum floor his head snaps up and his eyes lock on mine.
As I take in his tired, worn expression the weight of the past few hours finally comes crashing down on me and I burst into tears. He slowly gets to his feet and comes over to wrap his arms around me. I’m sobbing into his shirt when I feel him bend down and sweep me up into his arms. I bury my face into the crook of his arm as he carries me down the hall and out into the parking lot. He doesn’t speak as he eases me into the truck and belts me in.
I stare out the window as he fires up the engine and pulls out of the hospital lot and I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice we’ve arrived at his place until we pull into his underground parking. He turns off the engine and comes around to help me out of the truck, this time setting me down on my feet and weaving his fingers through mine before leading me to the elevator. As we ride up I catch a glimpse of my disheveled hair and tear stained face in the mirror which confirms for me that I look just as bad as I feel.
He doesn’t speak until we are inside the apartment and when he does it’s only to say that he’s going to run a shower for me. As tired as I am a shower does sound good so I lamely follow him and I don’t protest when he undresses me and guides me under the hot spray. He sheds his own clothes and steps in behind me and starts running his hands through my hair slowly and massaging my scalp. His touch is so tender and careful and the way he holds me is so unlike anytime he’s handled me before. I can feel his concern and his love in each gentle stroke of his fingertips against my skin. Once my hair is washed he leans spins me around and plants a soft, sweet kiss on my lips before turning off the shower.
When I step out I see that he’s left me one of his t-shirts and a pair of soccer shorts to wear. I give him what I imagine must be a weary smile as I slip the cotton over my head. The shorts are huge and I have to fold them at the waist twice just to keep them from falling down so eventually I give up and slide them off.
“Thank you, Shane,” I say softly and the meaning in my words is unmistakable. It is a thank you for all the things that he has done for me and all of the ways in which he has taken care of me not just over the past eight hours but over the past eight weeks.
He gives me a knowing smile and exits the bathroom and I use the time alone to brush my teeth and comb through my hair. I pause to stare at myself in the mirror only to see that my complexion is pale and purple bags are forming under my eyes. As I look at the girl reflected back I stop to think about what I would have done tonight if Shane hadn’t been there. How would I have handled finding my best friend bruised and bloodied on my bedroom floor? I lift the oversized shirt to my nose and inhale the familiar scent of him. It holds a trace of the heady combination of grass, soap and man that’s undoubtedly Shane and when it hits me I realize how much I love being surrounded by him - his place, his clothes, and his strong unyielding arms - but more alarming to me is the realization of how much I need it.
I drop the shirt and head back into the bedroom to where he’s waiting for me in bed. I climb in beside him and he flips off the light before pulling me against his chest and surrounding me in his warmth. He places another soft kiss to the back of my head before whispering in my ear.
“Sleep, beautiful girl. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
His sweet words almost break me and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from crying. I wonder how it is that he always knows exactly what to say. I nod my head and burrow under the covers, whispering a soft “I love you” to him before sleep takes hold.
It is the delicious aroma of freshly-brewed coffee that raises me from the dead and when I crack open my eyes I’m quickly reminded that I’m in Shane’s bed. I roll over and the first thing that catches my eye is my one and only suitcase and my gym bag both sitting in the corner of the room. The sight makes me sit up quickly and I look around for Shane but he’s nowhere to be found. I glance at the clock and I am surprised to see that it’s after ten, so I throw my feet over the side and pad into the attached bathroom where I get another surprise; my blow dryer, straightener and all of my toiletries and makeup are strewn across the counter. I storm back out of the walk-through closet and I have to choke down a scream when I see my dry-cleaned dresses and my two good suits hanging on one of the long bars.
Before exiting the bedroom I close my eyes and try to remind myself that there’s probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of my stuff being here like the police made him move it out but my heart won’t stop beating out a staccato until I hear it from his beautiful lips. Because God knows it is way too soon for me to be moving into his place.
I wrap my arms around my chest protectively and walk to the kitchen. I find Shane sliding a bagel into the toaster and he’s only dressed from the waist down. My eyes can’t help but scan his glorious tanned chest and the firm pecks and rippled abs that disappear beneath the waistband of his sweats. I have to actually tell my brain to close my mouth and when I look back up at his face the smirk he’s wearing tells me that he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He slides a cup of coffee across the sparkling granite countertop before picking up his glass of juice and taking a swig.
“Get dressed and I’ll take you to the hospital to see Matt.” His voice still has that sexy, sleepy rumble to it and I can feel the vibration of it hit me right between my legs but I shake off the feeling and remind myself that I need to focus.
“It’s Monday,” I say as calmly as I can while setting my mug down. “I have to go to work.”
“I already called the douche bag and explained the situation. You’re off for a week to recover.”
“You called my boss?” I choke out.
“You were sleeping,” he says on a shrug. I decide to let it slide and switch my focus to what needs to get done.
“I should head to Matty’s first and get some things for him,” I say, looking out the window at the gloomy gray Austin morning.
“Already done. The doctor said that the only thing that will heal the injuries he has is time and rest so they plan on discharging him today. I figure he can stay here while he recovers,” he informs me.
“You’re letting Matty stay with you?” I say and I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.
“You’re both staying here,” he says firmly.
“We need to talk about that,” I sigh and he narrows his eyes.
“I thought we just did.”
“Why is all of my stuff here?” I say and I can hear the accusation in my voice.
“Your place is still a crime scene and it isn’t safe.”
“Yeah but for a few days tops,” I argue, knowing that as soon as they’ve taken the photos and samples they need they’ll be out right away. From what I understand they don’t even clean up the blood as I’m guessing that’s something our tax dollars don’t cover. “It looks like you packed up everything I own!”
“And if I did?” he challenges, raising an eyebrow. “You’re better off here than in an unsecure building with shitty locks.”
“I’m not moving in with you because my locks are shitty!” I shout back. “That is absolutely ridiculous! I’ll just go to Home Depot and get something better. I don’t have to uproot my whole life!”
“I thought I played a part in that life,” he says in a hurt voice.
“That’s not fair!” I shout. “Moving in together is a huge decision and one that shouldn’t be made out of fear, convenience or circumstance,” I say, a little more gently this time.
“But I like you here,” he says.
“Sure, right now you do but what about in a month from now? A year? I don’t want you to resent me or us because you made this choice out of some sense of obligation,” I explain and he strides around the counter and backs me up into the island. His hands come up to cradle either side of my face as he looks me straight in the eyes.
“It’s like you haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said over the past few months. I don’t give a shit how fast this feels to you because to me it feels nothing but right. I want you by my side always and I don’t see that changing,” he says, dropping his head to kiss me but I pull back and snort.
“How did you even get all my stuff packed?”
“Leigh may have helped me bring over a few things last night,” he says, trying for nonchalant.
“A few things?” I cock an eyebrow at him.
“Maybe everything. Don’t overthink it, babe. Stay with me,” he whispers.
“I’ve been on my own since the age of seventeen,” I say but I can already feel my resolve wavering.
“Stay with me,” he says again, running his thumb back and forth across my bottom lip.
“Okay, I’ll stay but only temporarily. Just as long as it takes for Matty to heal and for me to put my place back together,” I concede, adding, “but this is NOT me moving in - understand?”
“Whatever you say, babe,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss me. This time I let him and he nudges my lips open and slides his tongue into my mouth. He tastes delicious, like fresh-squeezed orange juice and mint toothpaste, and when I stand on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck the t-shirt I’m wearing lifts up to reveal my bare ass.
“This is going to kill your social life, Mr. Bachelor,” I say teasingly as my tongue darts out to lick the corner of his lips and his moan vibrates into my mouth as he lifts me on to the counter. He peels the shirt off of me and leans me back at the same time nudging his sweats off his hips. He’s commando underneath so all of his impressive length is visible to me and I lick my lips. He hoists himself up on to the counter so he’s hovering above me.
“You are so much better than any keg I could ever tap,” he jokes and his eyes darken as he bows his head to nip at my breasts.
“We should talk about how I’m going to pay for my share,” I say, gasping out as he guides his tip to my opening and slams into me. I yell out his name and he pulls back as far as he can manage and slams into me again, making my back bow off of the cool countertop.
“Shane!” I cry out again as he repeats his assault over and over. I’m begging him to give me release and he chuckles and then moans when I circle my hips under him. When he presses the pad of his thumb against my clit I hear him speak as I explode into a million tiny pieces.
“Welcome home, babe,” he says hoarsely as he follows closely after me.
One of the greatest things about having a best friend is that you can drive each other to the brink of sanity and still come back from the edge loving each other. It’s also one of the worst things once put to the test. I love Matty, I do, but if he isn’t ready to go home soon I’m probably going to push him over whatever edge I can find.
It’s been two weeks and at first things went pretty smoothly with him riding on a Vicodin induced high but now that it’s the end of week two and the painkillers have all but dried up I’m dealing with one of the bitchiest queens this side of Texas. He’s since taken up permanent residence on Shane’s expensive sectional sofa and if he isn’t barking out his lunch order or complaining about what’s on TV he’s feeling sorry for himself. At first every comment he made would rip the wound right open for me and sprinkle in a little salt but I’m starting to become more immune to it as my exasperation outweighs my guilt. It’s Friday and the first day I’m going into work, having taken off an extra four unpaid sick days to help my healing friend. But I have to go in today because Donovan’s boss, the Editor-in-Chief, wants to speak to me about something important. I have my fingers crossed that it’s not about firing me for missing so much work but everyone seemed understanding when I told them about Matty.
I’m tucking my white blouse into my heather gray pencil skirt when the first wave of nausea hits me. It passes quickly but I don’t have time to think about it before Matty’s shouting at me from the other room.
“What?” I yell back as I hop out from the bedroom with one of my heels in my hand.
“You’re out of Frosted Flakes.” Matty is sitting at the counter and he shakes the box in my face when I reach him.
“So?” I say, making my way over to the pantry. “There’s like half a dozen boxes of cereal in here.”
“But they’re not Frosted Flakes!” he whines and it takes everything in me not to reach across the counter and throttle him.
“What are you, ten years old? Just pick something else,” I huff out but before I can debate the subject of breakfast any further another wave of nausea comes and I’m running to the bathroom as fast as I can.
I dry heave for a while spitting up mostly nothing but water, then I wipe my clammy forehead with a towel and go back to the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with you?” Matty says icily.
“I have no idea,” I bite back, adding sarcastically,” it’s probably all the Frosted Flakes I ate.”
“Maybe your preggo,” he snorts like the idea is the most ridiculous thing in the world and I literally stop in my tracks. While I calculate the days backwards in my head Matty takes the opportunity to tease me some more.
“Come to think of it you do look a bit chestier than usual,” he laughs but he stops when he sees my face. “Carm?” He takes a step forward, clutching at his side when he does which tells me that his ribs are still giving him grief.
“I’m sorry about the cereal thing and the boob comment. I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me. I think I’ve just been going a little stir crazy in here. Please don’t be mad,” he sounds really concerned as he takes my hand in his but I pull my hand away and turn to face him.
“It’s not that, it’s me. My period. I haven’t had one since I met Shane back in June.”
“That’s like almost ten weeks ago, honey. I know you are irregular but come on,” he frowns and of course only my gay best-friend would know my cycle better than I do. I’ve always been irregular with really light periods, which is why I went on the pill in the first place as a teenager to regulate them. Sometimes I have short periods or even skip them all together but I haven’t seriously dated anyone in a long time so it hasn’t been an issue. It could be nothing, but I am really bad at remembering to take the pills. I’ve been meaning to get the shot but my HMO doesn’t cover the cost and at nearly a thousand bucks it hasn’t been at the top of my priority list.
