Page 4 of Without You

“Do you think you can get yourself in the shower?” I ask, wanting him to warm up. “I could turn the heat on for you while you’re in there.”

Without expecting a response, I exit the room to give him space and set off in search of the thermostat. Located near the kitchen, I turn it high enough to warm the house quickly.

Trying not to worry, I war with myself over whether or not to check on Julian. When I peek my head through the door and find him still lying down, I know there’s no way he’s going to get up and into the shower without assistance.

I’m doing this for Rhett.

“Hey.” Using all my strength, I try to maneuver him into a seated position. Once he’s up, I lower myself to the floor, kneeling in front of him.

I ignore my shallow breathing and the racing of my pulse as I slide the jacket off his shoulders. His head hangs between his shoulders, and I’m grateful he isn’t staring at me. Our closeness is unnerving as I reach for the buttons on his shirt, trying not to overthink my actions.

Once they’re all undone, I push the shirt off him. My fingertips hastily skate over his skin, and the way it pebbles underneath my touch doesn’t go unnoticed.

He lifts his head, curious eyes boring into mine.

Why are you doing all of this?

Seeking some distance, I stand and take the pile of clean clothes I found for him and head to his ensuite bathroom.

I drop the clothes on the closed toilet seat and then turn on the water. While I wait for it to heat up, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

For the first time in weeks, there’s a flush of color to my skin. Beads of sweat pearl on my forehead, and I know they’re not a result of the humid shower mist, or the strain of lifting another man. It’s the product of an unknown heat. A slow burn unfurling at the idea of invading Julian’s personal space and helping him. Taking care of him.

Shaking my head, I drag my eyes away from the man staring back at me.

This is for Rhett. Out of respect and love for your brother, you’re taking care of Julian, because Rhett would want you to.

Not wanting to spend any more time poking holes in my logic, I step out to grab a still and half naked Julian. Stretching my hand out to him, I’m surprised when he takes it. I lift him up from the bed till we’re standing toe to toe.

I clear my throat, trying to find the courage to talk. “I turned the shower on for you.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling awkward. “I figured you could take the rest off on your own.”

Without a second glance, he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. The second I hear the lock click, my chest deflates, letting out all the trapped air from my lungs.

Pacing around the room, I don’t know what to do next—wait that’s a lie. I know I need to leave. He’s fine. He’s alive and safe, and I dropped off the box just like my mother asked. Considering we’ve never been in the same room together without Rhett, I’ve gone above and beyond what was expected.

I need to go, and we can go back to the Julian and Deacon who only ever tolerated one another for Rhett’s sake.

As soon as the thought passes, the door swings open and a fresh looking Julian walks out. Brown eyes find mine, his face holding a bit more color, and his eyes alight with a little bit more life. He runs his hands through his thick, wet, brown hair, mussing it up every which way. It’s then I notice the way his clothes are swimming on him.

Fuck.

“Shit. Julian,” I say, the tone of my voice apologetic. “I didn’t even notice.”

He shakes his head at me. “It’s fine.”

We stare at each other, and I realize this is my cue to leave. I point my finger to the door. “I think I’m—”

“Thank you.”

Two simple words settle in my chest and twist me up in a way I can’t explain. There’s something about being appreciated in this moment that makes my heart swell.

“Of course,” I respond.

“Do you mind if I just jump back into bed? I’m not feeling too good on my feet.”

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “Yeah. For sure. I’m going to get going soon anyway.”

He walks aimlessly to the bed, unperturbed by the ogre of a man standing in the middle of his room. My gaze follows his every step, from the way he pulls the covers back, to the way he slides under them.

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