Page 21 of Someone Like You

“I hate cats,” I said, clearing my throat. “If I had any pet for you to kill, in this analogy, it would definitely be a dog. Or maybe something simple, like a hamster.”

His lips quirked. He nodded at the cactus and said, “What’s that? You gonna try and prick me to death? Your personality wasn’t cutting it?”

I looked at the cactus, then pushed it toward him. “Oh—it’s…” Nerves were swimming in my stomach now, and I felt so, so stupid for bringing him anything. Even with this new heart-breaking revelation—and fuck, was it breaking my heart—Brody and I barely even knew each other. “That’s…for you,” I finished lamely.

But the way his eyes lit up, the way a genuine smile transformed his face into something truly breathtaking, I was glad I’d gotten the stupid thing. I’d stood in the flower section of the grocery store just staring at all the options with disdain untilI saw the row of succulents and decided on something less…flowery. Plus it was like two dollars.

He stared at me for a long moment, then curled his big fingers around the pot I was still holding out. “Thank you,” he murmured, looking down at the cactus like it was the most precious thing in the world. He set it on the little table next to the bed, which I noticed was uncluttered and everything on it arranged neatly. I wasn’t sure if that was his doing or the hospital’s, but based on the state of his basement room, it felt safe to say that it was probably Brody’s doing.

“How’d you find me?” he asked.

“Well…uh, Bri told me you were here.”

“You went to the shop?”

I rubbed a hand through my hair. “Yeah, I—well, I texted you but didn’t get a response, and you weren’t at home, so I went to the shop and Bri told me you were here. It’s Saturday, we were supposed to meet up.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes taking in the flush that had steadily crept higher and gotten deeper the longer I was here. “Isaac?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you could…” He seemed hesitant, wasn’t meeting my eyes now, and I wanted to grab his hand and squeeze reassuringly. But it was the intensity with which I wanted to do that that had me shoving my hands in my pockets. “I’m supposed to be discharged in an hour, but maybe you could read to me?”

My eyebrows flew up, and my heart was aching in my chest. It was such a simple request, and I felt like I couldn’t deny him anything right now. Not when he was this vulnerable. Not when it was making me feel this weird need to protect him, to comfort him. “Uh…yeah, sure. I’ve got some books on my phone,” I toldhim. I looked around the room for a place to sit, found a plastic chair in the corner, and pulled it up to his side.

“Thank you,” he said, and I didn’t trust myself to speak because the relief and gratitude in his voice were killing me.

I pulled up a horror novel I’d only read a few pages of, flipped back to the beginning, and started to read. An hour later, when a nurse walked in with discharge papers, I looked up from my phone to find Brody staring at me with an unreadable expression. Then he spoke with the nurse, who helped unhook him from everything, and sat up in the bed, swinging his bare legs out from under the sheet.

“Do you…do you need a ride? Somewhere?” I asked, trying not to look at his legs.

He stood up and grabbed a pile of clothes from the chair by the window, and I looked on with horror as he started shoving his legs into his pants. He lifted the hospital gown up once the pants were on his hips and tucked it between his teeth, holding it out of the way so he could zip and button his jeans.

And I’d been right, the other day. He had a delicious line of black hair that started at his adorable outie belly button and disappeared beneath the waist of his jeans. That small hint of hard stomach sent fire shooting through my body, but when he reached one arm behind him to pull the gown off completely, my jaw dropped open and I went up in flames.

Holy…fuck. I already knew Brody was gorgeous, and the way his shirts fit him, there was no denying he was in shape. But I wasn’t prepared for how all those muscles, all that skin, and all those tattoos would look together. I wasn’t prepared to see that he had barbells through both nipples, nipples that were a dusky brown and pebbled from the cool room. Tattoos covered his hands, arms, and crept across his collar and down his pecs, stopping above a six pack of abdominal muscles that flexed and bunched with his movements. The ink across his upper chestwas gorgeous—a detailed array of branches woven with pink and white cherry blossoms that curved and twisted over his pecs, and there were single petals falling to his sternum, where the picture ended. His obliques formed a delicious vee of muscle that angled sharply toward his groin, and I wanted to lick along the smooth skin down to?—

“If you’re offering, yeah, that’d be great,” said Brody. He pulled on a plain white t-shirt that was stained with oil and grease and whatever other fluids he worked with, covering up what was the most incredible body I’d ever seen in person. Maybe ever.

I stifled a moan of disappointment and made myself meet his eyes. He was staring at me with an intensity that only made my heart beat harder.

“We goin’?” he prompted after a long bout of staring, raising one black brow as he pulled his flannel coat on.

“Yeah. Yep. Let’s go,” I said, watching him as he slipped his boots on.

He headed to the little side table, picked up the cactus, looked at it, then smiled at me. “It’s like you gave me the plant version of yourself,” he said.

A bark of laughter erupted from me and, shaking my head, I led the way out of the room. When we were in the car and on the road, I asked him, “Where do you want me to drop you?”

“The shop, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” I said. And then, “So, wait, was no one coming to get you from the hospital?”

Brody sighed and said, “No. My uncle had to take my shift today and Bri’s working too.”

“But…what about—” And then I remembered Bri saying their mom had passed away—although in very different words—and I had no idea if their dad was still around because neither of themhad ever mentioned him and I didn’t feel like putting my foot in my mouth, so I said, “What about, um, your friends?”

Brody drummed his fingers on the side of the pot holding the cactus. “I don’t really have any,” he said.

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