Page 127 of Slew Foot
“What?” he said, drawing back.
Rafe winced. “I said I’m sorry. This has really got to suck.”
“You have no idea,” Mickey grumbled.
“Well, I kinda do. Like I said, I’ve had concussions before,” Rafe said, propping himself up on one elbow. He was good at reading Mickey, good at knowing how to make things easier for him. He’d picked up on how helpful lip-reading was almost immediately. Sometimes he forgot and turned his head, but hetried, and Mickey both loved that he made the effort and hated he had to.
And he was way better about it than most of the guys. Mickey couldn’t even be in the locker room right now. The noise was too much, blending together into a messy soup of sound he couldn’t pick individual words out of.
He couldn’t even play video games with Tanner and Rafe anymore.
He was so fuckingbored. Baking was his only other hobby, and it was too dangerous for him to bake with the level of dizziness he’d been feeling. The last thing he needed was a serious burn on top of everything else.
“We don’t even fucking know for sure thisisa concussion!” Mickey protested, a flash of frustration shooting through him, although he immediately felt guilty for taking it out on Rafe.
He didn’t deserve it. He’d been nothing but wonderful.
Rafe shrugged. “Okay, well it sure seems like it and it’s what Dr. Pope said is the mostly likely cause, so …”
Mickey sighed.
Rafe was right. Mickey just didn’t want him to be.
It was true they didn’t know for sure that this was a concussion. They’d ruled out tumors and brain bleeds, but the CT scan and MRIs had shown nothing at all. No obvious bruising or swelling of the brain.
Mickey didn’t have a lot of the classic symptoms of a concussion either. No light sensitivity, no memory issues, no headaches.
And Mickey was grateful. The thought of dealing with all of that on top of the rest was too horrible to contemplate.
But none of this was gettingbetter, either.
And with every day that passed, every game Mickey’s team played without him, he worried more that it never would.
Rafe gently touched his face, cradling it in his big hands and softly guiding Mickey to look him in the eye. Mickey blinked and focused on his face.
“Why do you look so sad?” Rafe asked.
Mickey closed his eyes, but only for a brief moment, because he didn’t want to miss anything Rafe said.
“I want … I wanted things to be different,” he said.
“What things?”
Everything? Mickey thought dully. “The start of our relationship,” he said instead. “I can’t give you what either of us want.”
“You will,” Rafe said, because he was being endlessly positive about this. “Give it a little time and?—”
“What if it doesn’t go away?” Mickey asked.
Rafe shrugged, stroking the skin beside Mickey’s left ear with his thumb and making him shiver. “We’ll figure it out.”
But Mickey wasn’t so sure. How long would Rafe be willing to put up with this shit?
“Do you want a blowjob?” Rafe asked after a few minutes of silence.
Mickey gave him a disbelieving look. What kind of stupid question was that?Of coursehe did. He said as much, and Rafe rolled his eyes.
“Do you feel up to it though?”
