throwing both against the wall. Fuck. He set them down, carefully, on the table next to the love seat and tried to remember how to relax.
After starting a pot of coffee, he shed his shoes, socks and jacket and put them away in the hall closet. It was so close to the way every evening had gone when he’d been staying here with Holly.
That thought, and the warmth that came with it, was cut short as Nick sat with his coffee and saw the pills and paperwork again. He had to read the instructions and symptom sheets twice before any of it sank in.
Holly came out, a towel around his waist. The white terry cloth was liberally smudged with red. The bandages were gone from his hands, and with his hair slicked back with water, stitches were visible, leading from his temple into his hairline. The bruise around his eye socket was swelling. There was another set of stitches on the underside of his left elbow. A garden of black-and-purple bruises blossomed on his right leg. His clothes must have been ruined.
Holly didn’t look at Nick as he limped into the kitchen. Blood and water dribbled down his left leg from his torn-up knee; walking was making it worse. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and mopped off his leg.
“Do you have bandages?” Nick wasn’t going to help unless he had to. Holly needed to learn to follow directions.
“In the bag. I stopped at an all-night place on the way home. Didn’t want to make a mess.” Holly snorted softly. “Too little, too late.”
“Finish cleaning up, then get yourself something to eat.” Nick picked up his coffee and the paperwork from the hospital again, making sure Holly wasn’t going to do more damage.
There was quiet and then a very subdued “yes, Nick” from Holly’s side of the room. It took Holly about ten minutes to get himself patched up and into a pair of boxers, but then he came over with a couple of large bandages in hand. “I can’t get it right. The elbow…” Holly turned his left arm to show Nick the spot that was too hard to reach, a gash about an inch and a half long, held together with a dozen neat stitches. “Please?” He held out the bandages.
Nick put his coffee down again, then took one of the bandages and gestured for Holly to come closer. “Hold out your arm.” His gut twisted again as he looked at the stitches. It could’ve been worse. So much worse. He carefully smoothed the bandage into place. “Are there others you need help with?”
“Just there. Thanks.” Eyes down, Holly picked up the bits of wrapping and took them to the trash can under the sink. He reached for a mug, then stopped. “May I have some coffee?”
“No.” Nick was surprised Holly had thought to ask. Surprised but glad. That was the way things needed to happen. He picked up his own coffee and took a sip. He’d deal with laying down new rules later. “Just eat and go to bed.”
“Yes, Nick.” There wasn’t any sarcasm in it. Nick could hardly hear the words, but he could read them in Holly’s body language. There was real satisfaction in Holly obeying him so readily. It was the sort of pleasure Nick never wanted to acknowledge, but it was there.
Holly made a sandwich and poured a glass of chocolate milk. He ate like a child—bread, meat and a cheese slice—but he ate it all and polished off the milk, standing at the counter.
The dishes went into the sink, and then Holly padded off to the bathroom. The water ran as he brushed his teeth. Through it all, there wasn’t a single comment, a single joke or even a single resentful glance. When he came out, he crawled straight into bed without comment and curled up under the covers, facing the wall, hugging a pillow to his chest. His shoulders were visible above the covers, almost humming with tension.
Nick watched for a while, but the tension didn’t fade. The orange-brown of the pill bottle caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and Nick picked it up. He shook out the pills and counted
After starting a pot of coffee, he shed his shoes, socks and jacket and put them away in the hall closet. It was so close to the way every evening had gone when he’d been staying here with Holly.
That thought, and the warmth that came with it, was cut short as Nick sat with his coffee and saw the pills and paperwork again. He had to read the instructions and symptom sheets twice before any of it sank in.
Holly came out, a towel around his waist. The white terry cloth was liberally smudged with red. The bandages were gone from his hands, and with his hair slicked back with water, stitches were visible, leading from his temple into his hairline. The bruise around his eye socket was swelling. There was another set of stitches on the underside of his left elbow. A garden of black-and-purple bruises blossomed on his right leg. His clothes must have been ruined.
Holly didn’t look at Nick as he limped into the kitchen. Blood and water dribbled down his left leg from his torn-up knee; walking was making it worse. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and mopped off his leg.
“Do you have bandages?” Nick wasn’t going to help unless he had to. Holly needed to learn to follow directions.
“In the bag. I stopped at an all-night place on the way home. Didn’t want to make a mess.” Holly snorted softly. “Too little, too late.”
“Finish cleaning up, then get yourself something to eat.” Nick picked up his coffee and the paperwork from the hospital again, making sure Holly wasn’t going to do more damage.
There was quiet and then a very subdued “yes, Nick” from Holly’s side of the room. It took Holly about ten minutes to get himself patched up and into a pair of boxers, but then he came over with a couple of large bandages in hand. “I can’t get it right. The elbow…” Holly turned his left arm to show Nick the spot that was too hard to reach, a gash about an inch and a half long, held together with a dozen neat stitches. “Please?” He held out the bandages.
Nick put his coffee down again, then took one of the bandages and gestured for Holly to come closer. “Hold out your arm.” His gut twisted again as he looked at the stitches. It could’ve been worse. So much worse. He carefully smoothed the bandage into place. “Are there others you need help with?”
“Just there. Thanks.” Eyes down, Holly picked up the bits of wrapping and took them to the trash can under the sink. He reached for a mug, then stopped. “May I have some coffee?”
“No.” Nick was surprised Holly had thought to ask. Surprised but glad. That was the way things needed to happen. He picked up his own coffee and took a sip. He’d deal with laying down new rules later. “Just eat and go to bed.”
“Yes, Nick.” There wasn’t any sarcasm in it. Nick could hardly hear the words, but he could read them in Holly’s body language. There was real satisfaction in Holly obeying him so readily. It was the sort of pleasure Nick never wanted to acknowledge, but it was there.
Holly made a sandwich and poured a glass of chocolate milk. He ate like a child—bread, meat and a cheese slice—but he ate it all and polished off the milk, standing at the counter.
The dishes went into the sink, and then Holly padded off to the bathroom. The water ran as he brushed his teeth. Through it all, there wasn’t a single comment, a single joke or even a single resentful glance. When he came out, he crawled straight into bed without comment and curled up under the covers, facing the wall, hugging a pillow to his chest. His shoulders were visible above the covers, almost humming with tension.
Nick watched for a while, but the tension didn’t fade. The orange-brown of the pill bottle caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and Nick picked it up. He shook out the pills and counted
Similar Books
