Page 135 of Commander in Briefs

I jerk my chin, indicating his shoulder. “What’s going on with your arm?”

“I need to ice it,” he grinds out between hard rubs.

“Then go ice it,” I say, annoyed that he’s whining about it.

“I can’t reach it.”

Something like guilt or maybe pity settles in my stomach, churning over feelings I wish it wouldn’t. Why am I feeling sorry for this asshole? Dammit.

With a sigh, I ask the question I know I am going to regret, but ask anyway. “Want me to help you tape it up?”

His head snaps up, his eyes wide and full of disbelief. Then his forehead scrunches up like he isn’t sure if I’m playing some kind of joke.

“I’m serious. I know how to ice it. Ans taught me,” I say nonchalantly. I don’t want him making a big deal of it. Take my help or leave it, asshole.

He looks at me for a moment and then mutters, “Okay.”

I shift Ans off my legs and onto the couch before covering her with the only pink blanket in the house. For a moment Theo and I both just stand there and admire her sleeping form.

“Come on,” I say after a beat and we walk to the treatment room in silence, where I unlock the door.

Theo climbs onto the table after grabbing the wrap and kinetic tape, while I take a premade bag of ice out of the freezer. “Does she do anything else?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. I will take extra turmeric when we finish.”

He removes his shirt awkwardly, both us feeling strange in our current situation. I try to tell myself that I’m doing this because he’s our bread and butter making this soon to be foundation run. When we couldn’t get a loan or grant, Theo funded the money. But the truth is, Ans wouldn’t want him to be in pain. And my loyalty lies with her. She would want me to help him if I could.

I take the tape from his hand and move to stand between his legs. The tension is palpable.

“Tell me where,” I say nervously.

Theo drags his fingers down the line of muscles that he needs the tape to go on. I’m thankful he is experienced with this kind of thing and doesn’t need me to press around to find the sore spots. I stretch the tape across the deltoid muscles he indicated with a firm press of my hand. He hisses out a painful breath, causing me to halt.

“You okay?” I don’t want to fuck up a million-dollar arm.

He grunts. “Yeah, keep going.”

And I do until he tells me to stop. His shoulder and back look like a road map of pain with tape going in a hundred different directions. But after he rolls the muscles back and forth, he tells me it feels better.

Good.

I want to get this shit over with.

I grab the ice and the wrap from the table. “Tell me where it needs to go,” I instruct again as I place the bag on his shoulder.

He flinches away from the cold and pulls in a deep breath. After a few seconds of getting used to the temperature, he relaxes and directs me to the back of his shoulder blade.

It’s a hard position to keep the bag on. It’s going to be interesting to wrap it up.

“Can you help hold the bag?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He reaches across his chest, stretching his arm, and barely clasps the corner of the bag. It’s obvious he’s in pain and uncomfortable in this position.

That fucking feeling hits me again.

“Let me try and tape it down first, then we can remove the tape after we secure the wrap.”

He nods, relieved at my suggestion.

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