Page 34 of Santa of the Creek
That forestalled my thought about his brother not caring. “Why did you never discuss Marty with him?”
Dean is silent for a moment and I’m about to say it doesn’t matter when he speaks. “Initially I thought he was just a homophobic jerk, you know? Only he’s not. Danny doesn’t always know the right words to say, but he’s a good man.”
“But you still didn’t tell him?”
“I always knew the only person I’d talk to about Marty was someone I trusted to understand me. Danny treats me like his kid. He loves me, but he doesn’t really get me. We’re not the same.”
I sit there, understanding the gift he’s just given me. He trusts me. He barely knows me, but he trusts me to talk about his heart.
I let out a sudden shiver. “I’m freezing. Let’s get out of here. Do you have your car?”
“I do.” Dean points, and I squint, just making out his Ford in the dark. “You don’t have to ask for the sheriff taxi.”
“How did you know?—”
“JD would never let you struggle home by yourself.”
“Deputy Ben might, if he thinks I’m feeling up his man.”
“He might,” Dean agrees. “How’s your ankle?”
“I can’t feel it. Like I can’t feel my legs, I’m so cold. Next time you talk about Marty, could we do it in the warm?”
“You think there’ll be a next time?”
“I hope there is.”
Dean chuckles. “You’re a strange guy, Echo. Willing to know about another man’s boyfriend. Are you ready?”
“Let’s go slowly.”
I crutch toward the Ford. Dean has his hand on me the whole time, ready to scoop me up if necessary. But we reach his pickup without incident. I groan in pleasure as I sit down.
Dean closes my door, then slides behind the steering wheel. “Home?”
“Home,” I agree.
The pickup is only just heating up by the time we reach my house, but that’s okay. Dean helps me up the stoop, then takes the keys out of my hand to open the door.
“I need my bed,” I admit.
“I’ll help you,” he says.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“You spend all evening listening to me talk about my dead boyfriend in the freezing cold. I can help you into bed.”
“Well, when you put it like that.” I don’t argue anymore. I’m too tired. Dean scoops up Ariel so she can’t trip me up and guides me into the bedroom.
He makes me take pain meds, then helps me undress, waits while I use the bathroom, then eases me into bed, propping a pillow under my ankle and resting an ice pack against it. It’s impersonal but kind at the same time.
As he pulls the covers over me, I take his hand. “Stay.” I see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Just for comfort, nothing else.” Then I admit, “I’m not up to anything more interesting.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Okay. I’ll make sure Ariel’s all right and turn off the lights.”
Ariel is buried next to me in the covers. She’s fine. Dean quickly returns, strips down to his briefs and slides into bed next to me. He rolls onto his side and takes my fingers.
“My brother wouldn’t understand comfort like this.”
