Page 14 of Utah

“You can look if you want. I’m not shy.”

“No, you’re not.” My laughter died on my lips as he started to harden. But before I could stare too long, I heard Evie’s voice, and she was just outside the room.

Grabbing the pillow I’d removed from the chest, I tossed it over his nakedness—a little too roughly, based on his grunt.

“Dinner will be rea—” She stopped mid-sentence and turned around. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t see anything.”

Utah chuckled, a sound I’d come to miss.

“Thanks, Evie. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” She left without another word, and when I looked back at Utah, his smile widened. “That was close.” He didn’t say anything as I replaced the pillow with a blanket. “After we eat, do you want to try and take a shower? I can help you of course.”

“Not ready for that. Maybe tomorrow. I can just wash up if you get me some soap and water and a washcloth. That way I’m not getting your sheets dirty.”

The guys at the club must’ve cleaned Utah up because there wasn’t any blood on him when I saw him.

“Don’t worry about the sheets. You’re fine.”

After we’d eaten, I removed his shirt and changed his bandages. The wound on his temple was pinkish, with six stitches holding the skin together. I wasn’t too alarmed until I removed the bandage from his stomach. Because of his ink, I thought perhaps I wouldn’t notice the wound as easily, but I was wrong.

A tattoo of a facial skull ran from his pectorals to his waist, the sides blackened. Whoever stabbed him hit him in the lighter-shaded area. The skin was swollen and red, angry-looking, which was to be expected since this just happened. But that didn’t stop the gasp that escaped me. He needed fifteen stitches to hold this one together, and all I could think about was the size of the knife that had done this damage.

“That fucker messed up my tattoo.” Our eyes held for a moment, the pursing of his lips soothing some of my initial surprise and horror.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” I dipped a washcloth in clean water and wiped around the area.

“Yeah, I spent some money on that shit.”

“I’m sure once you’re healed, you can have it fixed.”

“It’ll just be a cover-up, like all the others. Hiding what I don’t want to see.” His voice trailed off at the end, his words tugging at my heart.

Utah had told me once about his time in foster care and some of the abuses he’d suffered. I had a suspicion he didn’t divulge everything, but I never pushed. If he wanted to tell me more someday, he would. He’d tattooed his body to cover the scars, and this fresh one was another in a long list of tragedies he’d endured.

I didn’t know how to respond to what he’d uttered, so I remained quiet, keeping busy by applying a medicated salve over the wound before re-dressing it.

“Do you want me to wash you anywhere else?” I asked once I’d finished.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes dancing with wickedness. One beat passed. Then two. “I’m good.”

I rose from the bed, reining in the rest of my composure. “I’m gonna run down to my mom’s house for a bit, but I won’t be long.”

“Take your time. I’m only gonna pass out anyway. Thank her for the food. It was delicious.”

A simple nod and smile were my responses as I walked out of my room, leaving an injured, sexy, naked man in my bed.

9

One of the effects the narcotics had on me was haunting and realistic nightmares. I’d dreamed Ria gave birth to our baby on the concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse. I saw her but couldn’t get to her. When she held the baby in the air, the smile on her face morphed into confusion right before disturbing screams passed her lips. The baby dissolved into a pile of mush before eventually evaporating into thin air. I tried to yell to Ria, but I couldn’t make a sound, and as I reached out to her, she floated further back into a blackened tunnel.

I’d woken with a start, covered in a sheen of sweat. My heart raced, as well as my thoughts. The images of the nightmare faded, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps my subconscious mind tried to warn me.

“Good, you’re up.” Ria strolled into the room, carrying a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. “I made you some breakfast.”

My stomach growled at the enticing aroma, but all I wanted to do was take a shower and wash away the remnants of my nightmare.

“I’d really like to take a shower first. Is that okay?”

“Of course. I can reheat your breakfast.” She placed the tray on the top of the dresser. “Do you need a pill?”

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