Page 70 of Darn Knit All

“Shit,” he groaned. “Give me a second.”

I paused, hating this for him. I wanted to take his pain and burn it into ash.

“Okay,” he breathed finally, relaxing back on the bed. “I’m good.”

He wasn’t, but I appreciated his attempt to lie.

“How about you?” I asked gently after a long few minutes. My fingers moved, following the scarring on his leg. “You want a Wonder Woman?”

“Nah. I’m dating you.”

I glanced up, finding Theo’s gaze on me.

“Theo, I….” I swallowed, unable to speak but also unable to tear my gaze from his. Our mutual stare broke when I pressed on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Fuck,” he swore, leaning down to grip his thigh. “Jesus that hurts.”

Powerless to ease his pain, I could only continue to gently massage his convulsing muscles.

“I hate to say it,” he sighed. “But I might need to break out a wheelchair tomorrow.”

“Did you bring one with you?”

“No. I thought I’d be okay.”

I bit my lip. “Should we organize one?”

“Let me just get through tonight and then we can work out if I need it tomorrow.”

I nodded, swallowing my protest. I wanted to tell him it was alright, that everything would work out. I wanted to reassure him that I didn’t need him to be anything but well.

But I knew his sense of responsibility and obligation wouldn’t allow him to bow out of tomorrow’s challenge.

I continued to massage his leg, moving up from the sensitive scar tissue that covered him from tip to mid-thigh, to the thick tendons in his upper thigh.

“Did I ever tell you about the incident?” he asked.

I paused, surprised by his question. He’d lain back on the bed, one arm under his head, the other fisted in a pillow on his stomach.

“No, I don’t think so.”

He stared at the ceiling. “You’d remember if I had, it’s not a pleasant story.”

I shifted on the bed, squirting more moisturizer onto my palm. “You don’t have to share.”

“I feel if you’re dedicated enough to knead out the knots in my leg, then the least I can do is tell you how it got fucked up.”

He shifted, stuffing another pillow behind his back. “Like all good stories, this one starts with evil parents.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “I thought it was just evil stepmothers?”

“Not this one.” He scratched his chest. “Once upon a time twin boys were born to a young couple. The man liked to drink, get high and cheat. The woman wanted to be a political mover and shaker, and married him simply because they were both silly enough to get knocked up.”

He blew out a breath. “They didn’t even last three years. The twins’ third birthday was spent with their grandparents.”

I winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Our grandparents loved us to distraction. How they raised a fuck-up like Walter, I’ll never know.” He huffed a laugh.

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