Page 24 of Show Me How to Heal
“That’s because of the lime deposits” Zayne told me. “But there’s a simple solution.” He grabbed a measuring cup from the corner of his shower — and I’d definitely managed to not see it; otherwise, it would have struck me as odd — and the apple-cider vinegar. “I use roughly one tablespoon of vinegar and about thirty ounces of water,” he explained while pouring both into the measuring cup. “Tilt your head back, please.”
I did, and Zayne started pouring the concoction all over my hair. It was a little weird, considering it smelled like vinegar, but not unpleasant. And when I grabbed my hair, feeling the silky soft texture beneath my fingers, all traces of the yucky, sticky stuff gone, I insisted on doing the same for Zayne.
Afterward, we made quick work of toweling off and heading toward the kitchen in order to make coffee.
I wasn’t sure if I was a little disappointed nothing sexual had happened in the shower or not. No hand jobs, no blowjobs, nothing. I’d almost expected something like that, and the absence was… a little unsettling, to be honest. It raised questions I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the answers to. Like: Had it really just been a hook-up for Zayne? A one and done? Did he actually want me to leave but didn’t want to be rude?
I had no idea.
He didn’t seem to mind me still hanging around; he made me coffee — in a mug, not a to-go cup, thank you very much — and even started on making pancakes. Yet… there was still an uncertain voice in my brain that was driving me fucking mad.
Sipping my coffee, I reveled in the taste. The sharp bitterness with a hint of sugar. I could almost feel the caffeine flooding my system, getting my brain started.
I shouldn’t worry about that stuff. I should admire the view because Zayne had skipped the shirt, only wearing a pair of low-riding sweatpants. Unfortunately, they were black, not gray, but they still made him look hot as hell. He could probably wear a potato sack, and I’d still find him hot.
Which was weird.
Zayne didn’t look like the guys I jacked-off to at all. He was too… beautiful. Stunning. Soft. In all the best ways.
“Soo… you need to get to work?” I asked when Zayne turned around, a plate stacked with pancakes in hand. He put the plate on his kitchen table before turning back around, grabbing two more plates from a cupboard, silverware out of a drawer, and maple syrup from the fridge. He carefully set the table, only sitting down after everything was in place.
“After breakfast, yes,” he finally said, grabbing his mug of coffee and taking a sip. A groan escaped his lush lips, reminding me of the filthy groans I’d drawn out of him last night. “It’s not like I want to get rid of you,” he said, his head snapping up, eyes searching mine. “That’s not what this is at all. It’s just… I’m drowning in work right now, and I need to… I need to focus on that.”
“Yeah, I get it. Work comes first,” I said, a self-deprecating laugh escaping my lips before I could even try holding it back. “When I still had a career, a job at all, I was the same. So, I really get it even though I don’t get to live it any longer.”
My throat closed up, a lump lodged firmly there, making it hard to breathe. I wouldn’t ever get to live my dream again. And I’d been so close, too. The semi-finals. Thirteen minutes left on the clock. Thirteen minutes until my dream would have come true. But it’d been my nightmare coming true, instead.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds, but all I saw were the headlines declaring my injuries crippling and career-ending. Debilitating.
Zayne’s hand on my arm felt like a warm ray of sunshine on a rainy day. A little beacon of hope.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It must be incredibly hard to lose your career. I can’t imagine what I’d do. Besides…” He looked at my leg. He’d seen my knee, of course. I hadn’t bothered trying to hide it last night. He’d seen the angry, raised, bright red scars. Too many surgeries had resulted in me never even being able to look at my knee again without being reminded of everything I’d lost. “The injury must’ve cost you a fortune in medical bills.”
Damn.
Yeah… How did I answer that one without giving away that I didn’t exactly hurt for money. Well, that was an understatement. I was rich. My dad had always insisted on making smart choices by investing my money and not blowing it on stupid shit. Right after I’d signed my first contract with a pro-club, he’d sat me down and started going over my options: making a budget for me, getting me in contact with my bank, a broker, and an insurance guy. I hadn’t even known I’d needed all this, but he’d had everything already figured out. He’d been my savior.
In my time as a f… soccer player, I’d seen my fair share of aspiring players blow all their money on sports cars, houses, parties, clothes, everything. While at the same time, I’d been the one with an old phone rocking the spider app. Some had laughed about me, but today? I was grateful. I’d bought my parents a smaller house closer to their friends to show them just how grateful I was.
The problem was I couldn’t tell Zayne even though I really wanted to.
“In Germany we have a different healthcare system,” I finally said. “Apart from the usual monthly payments, it didn’t cost me a thing. Fortunately.” Well, it had, but only because I’d asked for a shit ton of amenities that hadn’t been covered by the insurance. I hadn’t cared. And for the first time in my life, my dad hadn’t cared about me spending money, either. But I guess having so much money left after such a lengthy injury was kinda unrealistic. “But I was fired from my job while I was injured.”
“That’s bullshit,” Zayne said, his eyes blazing with fury.
“Yeah.”
“So… you took your leftover money and spent it all on a plane ticket and a cabin in the woods in bumfuck Colorado?”
“Pretty much.”
Lie!Well, one could argue about the leftover money part…
“Wow.” Zayne nodded. “Sooo… what are your plans now? Are you looking for a job?”
“Yeah.” No. That was a lie. A full-blown lie. No doubts about it. “But it’s probably not gonna be easy with me not being able to walk without crutches and all.”
“Well…” Zayne said, his eyes sparkling. “I’ve got an idea…”
