Page 22 of Room 1017

Onthewayhome,I swung by the grocery store and loaded up with all Casey’s favorites—chicken and rosemary, honey and garlic. I was going to cook the hell out dinner tonight. I was giddy with excitement. We’d been moving slow, letting me take the time to heal in all the ways that mattered. But something had changed lately. Something important, and it was impossible for either of us to ignore.

The time for waiting was over…

When I pulled up in the driveway, a young teen was busy pushing my lawnmower back and forth across my lawn. I waved at him as I got the grocery bags out of the back seat. “Hey, Cam. How’s it going?” I called over the sound of the mower.

He let go of the safety switch, and the engine powered down, making the sudden quiet startling. He walked over and took one of the bags from me, helping to carry it to the door. “Hi, Mister Brown. I hope it’s okay that I came today instead of the weekend. I have a football game.”

“Of course, that’s more than fine. The lawn looks great. I appreciate your help with it.” I set my cane against the side of the house and reached into my pocket for my wallet and fished out a 20, then paused and grabbed a second. “Does that about cover it?”

His eyes widened with surprise. “That’s too much, I can’t take that.” Darn this honest kid.

“Let’s call it inflation,” I said, giving him a wink.

Cam finally accepted the tip, but only after I let him help bring the groceries into the kitchen. The whole time, he told me about this car he was saving up for, just as soon as he got his driver’s license in three years. The kid had dreams, I had to give him that.

I’d hired the local teen who was looking to make some money by doing a few odd jobs, like mowing lawns or polishing silver, and I figured how bad could he possibly screw it up? It was already such a scraggly mess, but I figured the little patch of lawn might just be worth the effort too, just like me. Cam’s dad was actually some bigshot athlete until an injury took him out of the game a couple years ago, so I felt a certain kinship I didn’t want to look at too closely. But I respected that he was teaching his son to be hardworking and self-sufficient, so I figured we could all help each other out here.

See? I was learning to ask for help, admitting when tasks might be beyond my limit right now. I was growing!

Now I just had to hope that with a little romantic wooing, Casey might agree that I was ready for everything that came next.

14

Casey

Igotoffworkat five, so I went home to wait until it was time to head over to Peter’s for dinner. I figured I could tidy up a little, catch up on some laundry, maybe watch an episode of something mindless. When I tried to put that plan into action, though, I kind of fell apart.

Tidying up started with wiping down the kitchen counter. Easy enough, right? But I spaced out, brain overworking, and it wasn’t until I startled when I heard my upstairs neighbor drop something on the floor that I realized I was still wiping the same spot—and had been for several minutes.

Cursing, I hung the cloth over the faucet to dry and shook my head to focus. “Laundry,” I told myself firmly. “Yeah, go do that.”

Except when I walked into my bedroom to grab the laundry hamper, I caught sight of the bed, and that sent my brain cartwheeling all over again. Because yeah, things had been seriously hot at the clinic today. When Peter said dinner, did he actually mean dinner? Or like…dessert?

It was far too easy to imagine what Peter would look like spread out on my bed, how his flushed skin would contrast against the light bedding. Not that I could invite him over just yet. I lived on the third floor of an apartment building with no elevator, and no matter the progress he’d made, I didn’t think he was quite ready to tackle that many stairs. Soon, though, I told myself. He would be ready soon.

There was no doubt that he’d been working hard these last weeks. Nobody could deny the progress he’d made. I thought back to that first day I met him in the hospital and how small he’d looked in that bed. Not just physically, but his entire presence had been muted.

Since he’d begun to regain his confidence, though, I’d watched him absolutely comealive. What had started as respect for a man who’d sacrificed so much to save someone, had shifted into determination to see him get better, and then somewhere down the line, my feelings toward Peter had turned into something… more.

And then, I’d had to start dealing with a whole new complication that had never been an issue for me at the clinic; the closer we became, the more I’d started to notice his body. He’d always been handsome, of course, but now that he’d started to fill out a little, to put on muscle, I had to admit, I was having a bit of trouble keeping my hands to myself. His shirt growing more transparent with sweat the longer he worked out, then watching him bend over to stretch, the fabric clinging.

Whose idea was it to go slow again? Fuck, what was I thinking?

I probably would’ve stood there staring down at my bed until it was time to go if my phone hadn’t rung. Relieved for the distraction, I pulled my phone out and checked the caller ID. Grinning, I hit accept and headed back to the kitchen to make some tea.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, filling the kettle. Our evening talks were often long and rambling, so this was perfect timing to fill the gap. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much. I was just calling to see if you would be my date to the charity dinner for A New Day. Last year the omega shelter raised of a hundred thousand dollars, and I know they’re hoping to make even more this year.”

“That sounds like fun, Mom, but…” I held my breath, hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake. Once I said these words, there was no going back. “I was actually thinking of bringing my own date.” I jerked the phone away from my ear in time to avoid the shrillness of her excited shriek. When I brought it back, she was mid-gush.

“…just knew you would find someone special. I want to hear all about them. When do I get to meet them?”

I brought my tea to the couch and put my feet up, settling in for a long chat. “Soon, Mom. You can meet him real soon.”

Theinsidedoorwasopen when I jogged up the steps onto Peter’s porch, letting in the warm breeze through the screen door. It was a beautiful summer night, the sky just beginning to turn color, slightly bruised. It was that time of day when the details began to blur, lending the earthly world a dreamlike haze. “Hello, it’s me,” I called into the house as I pulled open the screen door and stepped inside.

It smelled amazing in here, and my stomach gave a hungry gurgle. I hadn’t eaten anything because I didn’t want to spoil my appetite, but I was quickly reaching eat-my-own-arm-off stage. “I’m in here,” he called, and I followed the sound of a timer beeping to the kitchen.

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