Page 10 of Drifting Hearts
Besides, he might be hot, but he hated me. He didn’t hate everyone. He was all smiles and softness for his mom and the women who lived in the house. One of the women, Clarissa, wasn’t a big talker. I wasn’t sure if that was because she was still going through a lot, or if she was naturally quiet. But the other resident, Laura, could talk the ears off an elephant. They both seemed equally comfortable with Kieran.
Patricia excused herself, as did Kieran, and I was suddenly alone again. It was something I should be used to, but sometimes the silence around me was too loud. Too big. Too eternal. It reminded me of the time between screwing over Archer and ending up on the floor of my apartment and how I’d go for days without talking to anyone. This was the kind of thing I should mention to my therapist. Probably. Maybe. If I managed toremember.
Without a phone to keep notes in, and without the use of my right hand, it wasn’t as though I could jot anything down.
“I was instructed to check in on you before I left to see if you needed anything.” Kieran stepped outside some time later.
“What? Sorry? No, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” he said in a way that had me wondering if he was being critical or offering an olive branch. The thought struck me as absurd either way.
“Gee, you sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself.” The humor that tinged my voice surprised me.
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel anything. I was just sharing an observation.”
“Well, you checked on me. You did your duty to your mom. I’ll tell her you were a good boy so you can go now.” Pushing myself upright, I knocked my coffee mug off the table. I watched it fall and even tried to catch it, but the whole flamingo impression I was doing by standing on one leg all the time had me off-balance and my one-handed attempt went awry when I lost my balance and crashed into Kieran.
In the process of flailing around like a wounded seal, I managed to put my broken leg down and I’d stepped on it. Putting weight on it did not feel good at all, but I had bigger problems. Like being pressed up against Kieran Taggart, professional grump.
“That was not my most graceful moment.” I grimaced and tried to right myself.
“Are you okay?” He didn’t sound particularly concerned, but his mother had raised him to be polite.
“I’m better than the cup. I hope it wasn’t sentimental.” I stared down at the shards of ceramic strewn about the deck.
Kieran snorted, his strong hand still wrapped around my bicep. “It had a gas station logo on it. I think you’re good.”
“I’ll just clean it—” I tried to kneel down to get the pieces, but Kieran’s grip on my arm stopped me.
“You’ll sit your ass down and I’ll clean up your mess,” he bit. The accusation wasn’t voiced, but I heard it regardless. He’d clean up my mess the way Shane cleaned up my mess. He’d clean up my mess because I wasn’t capable of doing it.
When I tried to yank my arm away this time, he let me go. If I didn’t have a busted leg, now would have been the perfect opportunity to flounce away, but it was hard to look dignified and righteously indignant when I was hopping and windmilling or grabbing onto objects and walls for support.
“What are you doing?” Kieran asked when I made my first hop toward the door.
“Going to lie down. My leg fucking hurts.”
Kieran huffed out a deep, gravelly, annoyed sound. “Do you need help or can you get there on your own?”
“I manage just fine any other time.” I snarled without meaning to. I was tired of hopping around and doing everything one-handed. Tired of sponge baths and feeling absolutely incapable of doing anything.
“Mmhm.” Kieran picked up the broken cup and walked the pieces over to the trash cans. “Are you sure you don’t want help inside?”
My shoulders dropped and I let out a sigh. “Just through the door will be fine. I’ll be okay once I’m inside.”
Kieran walked over and put my good hand on his shoulder. “We’ll go your speed.”
Was it awkward to hang off Kieran and hop toward the back door? Absolutely. Did I hate it? Every second of it. Did I tear away from him like he was on fire the minute we got inside? You bet I did.
I dropped into my chair and scooted myself toward my room, tossing a quick thank you over my shoulder to Kieran, who grunted in response. I disappeared into my room and closed the door.
I wanted to throw myself down in a dramatic way, but my body was still far too battered for that. After easing myself onto the bed like a car crash victim, I stretched out and wondered when someone’s disdain for me had become such a fucking turn-on.
Kieran clearly barely tolerated me. But when I’d crashed into him, he’d caught me. It was probably half instinct, half good manners, and even though he’d done it begrudgingly, he’d still done it. Kieran was solid and sturdy. He smelled like the forest after a rainstorm, rich and earthy in a way that made me want to breathe deep and fill my lungs with him.
And for the first time in weeks, my dick twitched to life. A stronger man might have had opinions or principles about jerking off to someone who clearly hated him. I was not a stronger man. I was, however, right-handed. Jerking off would have to wait.
Chapter 6
