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BO WAS NERVOUS AS A cat with a litter of kittens as he opened the passenger side door to help Eli out. He made sure to pull up in the street, where they could traverse the small lawn and avoid the three steps from the gravel driveway to the concrete path. The two steps to the porch were unavoidable.
“I got your crutches,” Bo said. “Here, hold my arm.”
Eli did, no doubt putting on a brave face. It took him four tries before he figured out how to angle himself out of Bo’s pickup truck and aim his good leg to hit the ground first. He landed, and if he didn’t fall, it was only due to Bo’s steady elbow and Eli’s death-grip on his forearm. Bo clenched his jaw as his stomach churned with nerves. Some of the Gatorade he drank right before he left the hot floor threatened to come up. Eli was in pain, and Bo hated every second of it.
“Crutches,” Eli ground out.
“Here.” Bo helped steady Eli up the slight, grassy incline. The sun had dried off the rain of the previous night while Bo had been at work. It was almost dinnertime now. “At least the grass is dry,” Bo said optimistically. “And it’s a nice day, and we’re outside.”
Eli hung off the crutches that were now securely wedged in his armpits. He looked up at Bo with a forced grin that didn’t quite make it up to his eyes. “Damn straight. It even snowed a few weeks ago. Lucky us.” He surveyed Bo’s modest demesne, and Bo was forced to look at his neglected yard and fixer-upper home through the eyes of a privileged, well-traveled stranger.
Suddenly it didn’t look like much to brag about. The small Victorian had its original wood siding and gingerbread detailing, but the paint was faded and peeled, and only the upstairs windows had been replaced. It was his, though. He’d saved up for it and bought it in cash two years ago, and the few necessary upgrades and repairs had just about tapped him out. The roof patch, new wiring and his energy-efficient furnace didn’t show from where they stood, and his house still looked more like a dump than the sort of a home Eli was probably used to.
“It’s not much, but it’s mine,” Bo said. It was a defensive, pre-emptive strike. Funny how last time Eli was here, all drugged and hung over, none of this mattered. The merciful night had cast a veil over its shortcomings, and they both had other things to worry about.
Eli shifted his crutches and swung his good leg forward, making a tiny step. He did that four more times, scaling the shallow incline that led from the street to the flat part of the lawn. “Look, your flowers are blooming.” Eli’s voice sounded pinched. “Daffodils, right?”
“Yeah, the early ones. Everything’s late this year.” Bo followed Eli’s gaze to the patch of weeds and brambles around the porch. The daffodils could stay, and the brambles were overgrown roses Mom told him to prune back last year, except he forgot. As for the rest, he had no idea. He’d end up mowing around it, just like last fall. For now, the place looked a mess and smelled like wet dirt.
Eli hopped few more steps with Bo hovering next to him. He somehow imagined he’d keep Eli from falling, but he didn’t really know how that would work, since the crutches were in the way of him grabbing Eli’s arms. The whole bit filled Bo with a curious sense of helplessness.
He’d never taken care of anyone before. How would he manage?
Eli stood on the concrete path, breathing hard.
“Does it hurt?”
Eli shrugged. “I thought I was in pretty good shape before I had to make it across your lawn.”
Bo glanced ahead. “Ten more feet to the porch, another ten to the sofa. I’d bring you a chair to sit on, but I don’t think your wound would like it.” The image of the aluminum lawn chair frame digging into Eli’s hamstring made him shudder. Eli must’ve thought of the same thing, because he rallied, and going as fast as he could, he made it to the steps.
“If I can sit without falling, I could crawl,” he said uncertainly.
“That made no sense at all. But I’m on it.” Bo hopped up the stairs past him, opened the screen door and secured it with a plant pot. Then he unlocked the green front door to his house and shoved it open. “Stay still,” he told Eli. “I got you.”
Bo jumped down the stairs. “Gimme your crutches.”
“I need those.”
“I need you to put your right hand on my shoulder. Gimme that crutch.” Eli did, and Bo propped it against the fluted wooden pillar that flanked the porch entrance. “Now the other one.”
“But...” Eli hesitated.
“Come on. Trust me.”
Eli sighed, then unweighted himself, balanced on his good leg while holding onto Bo’s shoulder, and held out the crutch to him. It clattered to the ground. “Sorry. I can’t move this arm that far yet.”
“No prob. I got you.” Saying those words felt more intimate than anything they had done. “Hug my neck,” Bo whispered as he slid his arm around Eli’s back. When Eli did, Bo bent his knees, hooked his other arm under Eli’s knees, and lifted him. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.”
And was that a blush creeping up Eli’s cheeks? Bo didn’t say it was adorable. “You’re heavier than you look,” he said instead as he climbed the two stairs to the porch.
“Calling me fat?” Eli’s grip on his neck tightened as Bo shifted him to a more secure position.
“Just dense.” Which is when Bo realized they won’t fit through the door. He turned sideways and sidestepped a few times.
“Dense?” Eli snickered, which was good, because laughter was supposed to make pain go away. “I’ll take you to the sofa.” Bo edged his way through the foyer and to the right, maneuvering between the sofa and the scarred, wooden coffee table. Sitting slowly, he eased Eli onto the worn upholstery. Their eyes met. This would be the perfect time to lean forward and kiss Eli, had Eli been able to make his getaway in case Bo’s attention was too pushy.
Eli couldn’t make his getaway.
Furthermore, Bo realized how screwed he was. If Eli felt he owed him anything, like his life or his comfort or a proper thank-you for being nursed back to health, he might try to show his appreciation in a sexual way.
Just the thought made his pants stir.
That was just so wrong, though. Being turned on was one thing. Any red-blooded man would be turned on by Eli right now unless he was totally and irrevocably straight. Lithe, strong shoulders, scruffy jaw, soft eyes. And those lips – Bo remembered how soft they had been, how warm and enticing. No matter how yummy Eli looked, and no matter how much better his throat would look with a fresh set of hickeys, Bo would have to keep his distance until Eli was capable of making rational decisions.
That could take weeks. Bo suppressed a frustrated groan. The next few weeks were going to feel like eternity, and with Eli looking all delicious and decorative in his house, Bo’s dick was going to fall off due to priapism.
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HE DREAMT THAT SOMEONE was shaking is shoulder just as he’d been trying to balance over a log that spanned a thirty-foot chasm. A mountain creek rushed over the boulders beneath him. He was at the “break your bones and hope to live” height, and didn’t they see that? Couldn’t they leave him alone?
“Eli, wake up.” Another shake, gentler this time. “Dinner’s ready.”
He didn’t slip and fall like he had hundreds of times before. The rushing water beneath him was a tattered memory and the hard rocks just a mirage under the merciless strength of their flow. He was stable. There was no danger of falling.
“Eli. Baby. Dinner.”
It was the ‘baby’ that did it. Eli prised his eyes open and shuddered, as though he were trying to shake the vestiges of his past off his shoulders.
“You cold? I can bring you a hoodie.” Bo was kneeling by the sofa, looking at him with an assessing glance, as though he expected him to fall into pieces.
“Fine.” It was just a dream. “I’m fine.” Eli didn’t manage to suppress the shiver, and Bo touched his forehead with his warm fingers. “I’ll go get you that hoodie. You need to use the bathroom?”
Eli nodded. “Crutches.”
Bo bit back a grin, and it seemed he bit back words as well, but he reached for the crutches and helped Eli off the sofa. “I moved the coffee table under the TV so you have room,” he said instead. “Will you need help?”
“No,” Eli said automatically. What did Bo hope to do for him, hold his dick? Yet the question wasn’t in vain. The small powder room was barely big enough to turn around in even without crutches. With them, he’d probably flail around, break things, or fall. Eli compromised by not shutting the door. He leaned the crutches against the walls and thanked his dance training for the balance required to piss while standing on one foot.
The whole business took so long, Bo had the table set and dinner covered with lids by the time Eli made it out with his pants zippered and his hands washed. He made his way to the dining room.
“I put a pillow on your chair, and your chair is the one closest to you,” Bo said from the kitchen. “You want water, soda, or Gatorade?”
“Just water, thanks.” Eli eyed the chair. Sitting down took him only two minutes, which must’ve been some kind of a record.
Bo emerged from the kitchen and set a glass of ice water in front of him. “I’m having beer. You mind?”
“No.” Eli shook his head. “Water’s the best thing, really. Soda’s a special treat. So’s Gatorade.”
“Huh?” Bo raised his eyebrows in question as he loaded their plates with spaghetti, sauce, and meatballs. “How come?”
“The sugar really adds up. I haven’t danced in years, but I still eat like I do. You know, to keep fit.” Eli scanned the table. Nope, not a shred of green lingered in sight. A salad would be nice with the pasta. Or broiled broccoli with a drizzle of balsamic reduction sauce. Or even defrosted peas.
“Thank you Lord,” Bo said by rote and winked at Eli right before he dove in. Eli followed in a somewhat restrained manner. The down-home sweet and tangy comfort of sauce from the jar made him smile. And the meatball that had been previously frozen. Eli grinned. “It’s great!”
Bo shrugged and stared into his plate. “It’s easy stuff. Ordinary, y’know.”
“It’s what I cook.” Except for adding vegetables. How could Bo subsist without vegetables? Lots of guys didn’t eat salad, sure, but Bo was gay!
“And I got ice cream,” Bo said with a conspiratorial wink. “You should be celebrating getting out of the hospital, and if you can’t have beer, there are other options. I hope chocolate’s all right.”
Eli was about to nod when he realized his dinner was gone. “Did I eat it that fast?”
“Yup.”
“Wow.” Eli paused. “It was very good. Thank you for cooking. And thank you for having me here.”
“It’s okay.” Bo stared into his plate, moving his last meatball and its nest of spaghetti around. “I got the music room cleaned out for you,” he said. “There’s two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and there’s an attic I’m still finishing. But the stairs, y’know? There’s an old library around the corner. I keep my music stuff there, but I moved it to the guest room upstairs, and my sister had an extra bed so we put it there. You’ll be okay here.”
Eli froze. “Your sister?”
“Yeah. And Mom. They’ll probably come over and bring casseroles and cookies and stuff. Just let them, that’s what they do. It’s like they think I’m incapable of cooking.” Bo grinned. “And my two brothers, they’re married, so their wives might stop by, too.”
Eli realized he was being vetted by the family. It intimidated him in a way he’d never experienced before. “What do they know about us?” He asked, weighing his words carefully.
Bo shrugged. “We work together. I like you. You got hurt. That’s pretty much it.”
“Oh.” He suppressed the panicked stream of expletives and tried to come up with a more civilized reaction when his phone dinged. “’scuse me.”
Eli fished the phone from the big center pocket of his hoodie and looked at the text.
“What?” Bo craned his neck and cracked it to to the right. Before he cracked it to the left, though, Eli’s panicked face and blanched expression stopped him in mid-motion. “What is it?”
“My parents,” Eli said in a small voice. “They’re flying in tomorrow and will flag a car from the airport.” He set his phone down. “Now this is unexpected.”
“You didn’t know they were coming?” Bo finished his food and chased the last bite with a gulp of beer.
“I knew they would be coming, but they didn’t know when and I figured maybe next week. I didn’t know... I didn’t know I’d be here with you.”