Page 5 of Fighting Fate
Without thinking, Chipper kissed the top of Baylor’s head. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not like I haven’t earned that reputation. I just wish…” He didn’t bother to finish. No one cared.
“What do you wish?” Baylor asked so quietly, it was like he tried not to spook Chipper.
He didn’t know why, but Chipper found himself being honest. “I wish just one person would see me for real. I guess that’s a lot to ask.”
A light kiss brushed his neck.
Chipper closed his eyes and savored the sweet moment. It meant nothing. Baylor was sick and Chipper was his nurse. The guy would never want him. Several minutes passed. The shaking stopped. Baylor’s breathing evened. Chipper closed his eyes and dreamed. He had no clue how much time passed before he felt Baylor’s fingers sneak into his pocket.
“You’d better be reaching for my dick because I know you’re not trying to get your phone.”
Baylor huffed.
A huge grin split Chipper’s face. This was the life he wanted. Obviously, in his dream, Baylor wasn’t sick, but still. Holding Baylor like this and feeling this happiness in his chest, that was what he fought to find. His smile fell. He wished it wasn’t temporary. His arms tightened around Baylor. It didn’t matter. He would take what he could get. Happiness didn’t find him often.
Chapter Three
Ittookeveryounceof Baylor’s strength and willpower to roll from the bed. He had to find his phone, pray it wasn’t dead, and see what he could do to keep from losing clients. He never thought he would be down this long, and he couldn’t expect Sacha to do everything. Since he didn’t see the device in the room, he went in search of Chipper. He made it to the bedroom door before tripping over the huge pants he wore. Baylor didn’t have the energy for this. He let them hit the floor. The shirt he wore nearly came to his knees and covered everything, so what the fuck ever. He felt too bad to care.
Baylor followed a rhythmic sound alongside an upbeat metal song. He rounded the corner into an open doorway and froze. In nothing but shorts, Chipper bounced on his toes while punching and kicking a punching bag that hung from the ceiling. Sweat poured down the most perfect body Baylor had ever seen. He vaguely recalled cuddling against that solid body. Holy hell. Even on the edge of death, Baylor’s body tingled. Chipper’s entire body from the collarbone down was tattooed. Baylor couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Since Chipper had his back to the doorway and looked busy, Baylor moved to a stack of nearby mats against the wall and sat. He leaned back, bracing his shoulder blades against the wall. The mats were long enough for him to stretch his legs out. He crossed his ankles and settled in. Baylor had no clue how long these workouts took, but he understood this was Chipper’s job. Just like he wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted while working, he would extend the same courtesy. His reluctance to bother Chipper had nothing to do with enjoying the show. Nothing at all.
By the time Chipper stopped abusing the bag, his shoulders heaved from the exertion. More sweat rolled down his back. He grabbed a nearby bottle of water and turned. Chipper jumped slightly at the sight of him.
“Hey. What are you doing out of bed?”
Fighting for his goddamn life. That’s what he was doing. Holy motherfucking hell. Just abs. Obliques. The chest. He couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t fair. No one should look like him.
Chipper’s brow furrowed. “Are you okay? You’re sweating. I don’t think you should be up.” He moved as if to cross the room. As if a thought hit, he froze and changed directions. As Baylor looked on, he grabbed a towel and swiped the sweat from his torso and Baylor watched every second. Damn. He was thirsty. His mouth was the Sahara.
Chipper tossed the towel aside and headed his way. “Come on.”
Before Baylor said a word or knew what would happen, Chipper easily swept him into his arms.
“Back to bed. I bet if I take your temperature, you’ll still have a fever. Why did you get up?” He didn’t give Baylor a chance to answer. It was as if he spoke to himself. “I guess I should’ve figured out a way for you to call for me so I could bring you whatever you need. Don’t worry. I’ll figure out something. One thing I know I can leave you a phone or you’ll try to work.”
“I need to work.”
Chipper snorted. Even that was sexy. “See? Can’t be trusted.” He gently tucked Baylor back into bed. “Let’s see.” He sat on the edge and snagged a nearby thermometer. After a quick scan of his forehead, an alarm sounded. He turned the device Baylor’s way so he could see. “One hundred and two. Don’t get out of bed again until this has a green screen and has you at most ninety-nine. Understand?” He hesitated. “Unless you need to use the restroom, of course.”
Even though he was about ninety percent sure he was dying, Baylor still argued. “You don’t understand. I need to appease clients before they find someone else. I have two weddings next weekend.”
“Stop.” Chipper’s tone was so stern. Baylor automatically went quiet. He eyed Baylor, as if ensuring he would zip it before speaking again. “I told you I’d take care of everything, and I have. Sacha has you. I have you.”
He did. Baylor couldn’t deny that. “I know. You’ve been amazing.” Baylor regretted the admission immediately.
A huge grin lit Chipper’s face. “You like me.” He sang the words, making Baylor groan. It hurt his throat. “Ow.”
Chipper turned serious, like a switch had been flipped. “What hurts?”
“My throat.”
“I’ll make you some honey tea.”
There had to be a law against someone like Chipper existing. He made all the right moves and his name fit. Nothing seemed to bring him down. The only thing that soothed Baylor was the sound of his voice. “Is Chipper your real name?”
“It’s Chip. My mom called me Chipper, and it stuck.”
