Blowing Smoke: A Small-town Firefighter Gay Romance (The Wilds Book 2) Page 11

  Hunter rolls his eyes. “Well, you’re going to have to get over it. The department made it pretty clear how they feel about the whole thing.”

  I grumble under my breath, but I don’t argue with him. He’s not wrong, which annoys me almost as much as his puppy-excitement.

  He doesn’t deserve it. I’m just annoyed at everything right now. I’m annoyed that I’m stuck in this bed, that it’s going to be months before I get back to work, and yes, I’m even annoyed that my insurance—rather the department’s insurance—is insisting I go through the full gamut of physical therapy to compensate for my lost toe.

  Losing a pinky toe doesn’t even impact balance at all. It’s all ridiculous, and just serves to remind me what an idiot I was.

  Hunter leaves me grumbling to go answer the door. I hear the two of them exchange pleasantries, Hunter offers to take her coat, he introduces Winnie to her, and then I can hear them all moving down the hallway toward the bedroom.

  “This is the patient. Don’t take his mood personally,” Hunter jokes, gesturing toward the bed. I roll my eyes at him.

  “Hi Mr. Easton. I’m Abby. The hospital sent me to check up on you, see how your recovery is going, and help you get moving again.”

  “I lost a toe, not a leg,” I answer.

  Her smile never falters. “I understand you might think this is all a bit overkill, but a proper recovery can prevent future issues down the road. You’d be surprised how much a minor alteration to your gait can affect your posture and cause all kinds of back problems and pain issues. Have you been walking around?”

  I glance over to Hunter. “Not much. I’ve been prohibited.”

  Abby’s smile just gets bigger. “That’s okay! If you don’t mind, I’m just going to take a look at your bandages, and then we can get you on your feet.”

  I shrug. Not like I’ve got any say in any of this.

  She inspects my chest first, checking for any signs of infection. Hunter and I both have extensive first aid training. It’s healing up great.

  Then she looks at my toe stub, carefully unwrapping the thick buffer of gauze and dressing around my foot.

  “Looking pretty swollen still,” she says. “But that’s okay. I’ve got a special boot for you to wear that’ll keep weight off of it for now if we need to go that route.”

  Seems like that defeats the purpose of everything she was just saying about my gait and posture and all that, but I’m not saying a word. I haven’t hardly been on my feet at all in almost three weeks and I’m starting to lose my mind. I just want to be vertical for a little while. I never realized how much that freedom of mobility really matters, how much I took it for granted.

  With help from Hunter, Abby re-wraps my foot.

  “All right, now comes the hard part,” she says, stepping back from the bed. “We’re going to help you stand.”

  I scoff. “I can stand on my own,” I insist, turning my body, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

  Without the headboard supporting me, it takes more effort to stay upright than I expected. I’ve been propped up for so long I can’t even support my own weight just sitting anymore. This has to end now. I need to get back to where I was physically if I want any chance of going back to my job.

  “We can—” Abby starts.

  “Jared,” Hunter warns.

  I ignore them both, pressing my fists into the mattress to lever myself up. My muscles complain about the task, arguing that they don’t do this sort of thing anymore, but I push harder, straining until my butt’s not touching the bed. I try to straighten my knees, but that’s when the muscles in my legs start to quiver.

  Hunter and Abby are on either side of me immediately, each one holding one arm, pushing my momentum back forwards instead of letting me fall. Between my shoulder blades, my back is damp with sweat. Hunter’s grip on me is a lot tighter than Abby’s; tight enough his fingertips are white, silently scolding me.

  “That’s one way to do it,” Abby says, chuckling. “Now let’s see you walk here to the end of the bed.” She releases the arm she’s holding and takes two big steps backwards. It’s probably three or four normal-sized steps, and I feel like a toddler, being encouraged one step at a time.

  Hunter slowly releases his grip on me too, but he doesn’t step away, still not trusting me to keep myself upright.

  I step forward with my un-amputated foot, when my step lands, I feel it through my whole body, every muscle trying to call out of work at once. I take another step, and by the end of it, my forehead’s damp.

  It’s not just the physical exertion of moving when I haven’t done that in what feels like forever, but I’m still not getting all the oxygen I need. My pneumonia is almost gone, but it’ll be months before my lungs are really recovered. Being out of breath all the time makes everything that much harder, but I can get to the end of the damn bed.

  The third step is more of a shuffle, but then the end is in sight. Abby’s smiling and nodding at me, waving me forward with that encouraging look.

  “Great job!” she exclaims as I make it the last step. But that’s not enough for me. Four steps is nothing. I got to the other end of the bed. Hooray.

  I’m going to make it to the door.

  “Now how about making the round trip?” Abby asks. “Think you can do that?”

  Instead of turning around, I take another step toward the door. Then another. Now there’s no one smiling and encouraging me, just the shine on the doorknob I’m focused on, determined to reach it.

  “You don’t want to push yourself too much. You can try going a little further each day—”

  “Jared, don’t be stubborn,” Hunter says, onto me.

  The distance to the door is probably twice as far as the journey I just made, but I’m doing it. I’m going to show them I can. They think I’m so weak and helpless.

  Just one more step…

  My hand closes around the knob, and I can’t help the cheer that comes out of me. No one else cheers for me though. Not even encouraging Abby. And when I turn around, the bed looks like it’s a mile away. I’m sweating all over, I’m out of breath, and just looking at that distance makes my knees buckle.

  Hunter’s at my side in an instant, lifting me by putting my arm around his shoulders.

  “You happy now?” he hisses, helping guide me back to bed.

  Abby does her best to gloss over everything.

  “Now there are some exercises you can do in bed to build up your strength, too. I want to teach you a few of those before I go.”

  Despite her best efforts, it’s obvious by the end of our session that Abby is frustrated with me. She keeps emphasizing how I shouldn’t push myself, that I’m risking re-injuring myself—I didn’t injure myself, though. I’m not a football player with a torn ligament. I’m a normal guy that needs to learn to live with nine toes. I’m pretty sure there’s no level of walking that’s going to make me lose another toe. Being tired I can deal with.

  Hunter leaves to show her out, and Winnie jumps up in the bed with me, laying her head across my lap.

  She always knows when there’s friction between Hunter and me.

  I expect him to come back into the bedroom, lecturing me, telling me how I should’ve behaved better or something along those lines. I’m prepared for an argument when he comes in, so when he just comes and sits on the bed with us, both of us petting Winnie without saying anything, I’m not sure what to think.

  “You know it’s okay to take your time to heal,” he says finally, scratching Winnie behind the ears. She leans into his hand, her wet nose brushing against my arm. “No one’s going to think any less of you because you have to recover. I’m not going to love you any less.”

  My gaze snaps over to him, and his hand slides over mine.

  “I do, you know. As frustrating as you can be sometimes… When you were in the hospital, I was sure I’d lost you. I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you. I know I can be a pain in the ass, but I want to take ca
re of you. I want to make sure you’re okay, that this recovery is going as well as it can, because I want you to be around for a while.”

  My throat tightens, and I feel like even more of an asshole. I’m not trying to be an insufferable curmudgeon.

  I squeeze his hand back.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him. I’d probably be just as crazy if the roles were reversed. “Not like I can, haha.” We sit in silence, both smiling grimly at the ‘joke.’

  “I love you too, you know,” I add, staring at our joined hands, my stomach flipping. It’s not something I’ve ever said to someone before. Not like this anyway. Family, sure. Navy buddies when we were hammered, yeah. But for real? No.

  “I’m not good at sitting still,” I say, the floodgates opening, “and not knowing how long I’ll be out of work is freaking me out. I only get so much paid sick time and then how am I going to keep helping Jack with school? What if they don’t let me back on the force? There was a lot of scrutiny about my asthma to begin with, but it was always well-managed. If I can’t prove that I’ve got it under control… I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m not a cop anymore, Hunter. It’s the only thing I wanted to do when I got out of the Navy and I never even considered anything else.”

  Hunter listens even as my voice cracks and I’m choking back the worry. He slides an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him.

  “Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it? For now, let’s worry about getting you back to a hundred percent.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a miserable dick.”

  He shrugs. “Can’t say I blame you, but we’re on the same team, not adversaries.”

  “I know. I’m not good at being vulnerable.”

  He fakes a gasp. “No, I never would have guessed.”

  I nudge him, but I’m smiling. It’s hard not to with such a great guy in my life.

  “I’ll try to be better,” I say, stomach twisting. It’s not a promise I’m confident I can keep, but I can try.

  Hunter smiles, leans down and kisses me. “Just let me take care of you, and everything will be fine.”

  I try to smile at his promise, but neither of us knows the future. What if it isn't?

  Chapter 16

  Hunter

  “Hey, is there any turkey left?” Jared asks, his head in the fridge.

  “I finished it off, sorry,” Ryder answers from the living room.

  I brush past Jared and reach into the very back of the fridge where there’s a secret stash hidden from my brother.

  “I thought you might not be completely sick of leftovers yet,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.

  “You’re the best,” he answers, smiling back.

  Five weeks after his accident and a week after Thanksgiving, it seems like things might be finally getting back to normal around here. Jared’s still not cleared for duty, but he’s moving around better, not out of breath merely going from one room to another. He’s getting antsy, I can tell.

  “Was thinking about breaking out the decorations finally,” I say casually. “Any chance you’d be interested in helping?”

  “Oh! Can I go get a tree?” Ryder asks, jumping up from the couch.

  “You don’t want some help?”

  “I’ve got it,” he says, waving me off.

  I shrug. Trudging out through the snow to chop down a tree isn’t high on my priority list. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Hey Winnie, you wanna go tree-hunting?” he asks in that voice that’s guaranteed to get my dog excited. She barks, jumping, knocking Ryder’s empty glass over on its side. It’s harmless, but it makes a loud sound, and Angel chimes in.

  “Damn it!”

  I glare at Ryder. “I leave you alone with my pets for a week and they’ve turned into jerks.”

  He grins, grabbing his coat. “I’ll be back in a few hours!”

  I haven’t seen him that excited to get out of here in a while. Maybe he’s got something else going on and just needed a cover story. We haven’t talked about his social life much since he’s been back. I have no idea what he’s doing with himself. I’ve been too wrapped up in my own stuff.

  Jared’s got a turkey and stuffing sandwich in front of him, and I sit down next to him, stealing a potato chip off his plate.

  “He’s not the one that taught Angel that,” he says, wracked with guilt. “I banged my shin on the coffee table one night and now any time someone bumps something or knocks something over, he knows just what to say. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I—”

  I snort, sliding my hand over his thigh. “You didn’t teach him that either,” I assure him. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever cursed after injuring himself?”

  His shoulders sag with relief. “I’ve been feeling so guilty about it!”

  “That’s because you’re a sweetheart,” I say, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like cranberry sauce.

  “I guess I should go drag the decorations out of storage,” I say, dreading heading down into the basement.

  Jared’s hand covers mine before it can leave his leg. “Your brother said he’ll be gone a couple hours,” he says, voice low and sexy.

  My body responds before my brain has a chance to tell it to slow down. It’s been a long time since we’ve had sex. There have been some make-outs and handjobs, but for the most part, I’ve been too afraid of him pushing himself. I don’t want to be the reason he ends up back in the hospital.

  “I don’t know if we—” He kisses me to shut me up. I’m annoyed he does it, but I’m more annoyed that it works. He kisses me hard enough I forget about everything else, focused solely on this kiss, on him. He drags my hand up his thigh, toward his crotch, and I slide my palm over his cock, already hardening.

  “We should,” he growls, trailing kisses down the side of my neck until I’m dizzy and breathless. There’s no saying no to him when I want it just as badly. When I need it this much.

  “Okay,” I agree, my head bobbing like I’m a big-headed dashboard toy, his lips on my neck keeping me from thinking anything other than ‘more’.

  He leaves his forgotten half a sandwich behind, and I follow close, forcing myself not to rush him.

  “Lay down,” I tell him, stripping off my shirt first, moving to the button on my pants.

  Jared turns, arches an eyebrow at me. “Getting a little bossy there.”

  “You haven’t even begun to see bossy,” I tell him, switching to the button on his pants.

  “Is that right?” he asks, his fingertips tracing the outline of my erection, making me gasp. I shudder, breathe, then shove his pants over his hips.

  “Yep. Lay down.”

  He grins, fingertips teasing the underside of my dick, down until they’re dancing over my balls. I groan, and step toward him, kiss him, my hand wrapping around him in turn.

  “You’re not listening,” I say, biting his bottom lip.

  He smirks, not something I see from him often. “Yeah, well I’m normally the one giving the orders.” He strokes me from root to tip and I go up on my tiptoes to meet him, jolts of electricity shooting through my body.

  “Live a little,” I say, stroking him the same way. Two can play this game. I know how to be a tease too. “Try something new.”

  He steps back, the back of his legs touching the mattress, then he sinks down, eyes bright, a little cautious.

  “You’re lucky I trust you,” he says, sounding nervous. All because he’s making himself vulnerable, putting me in the position of power. It’s hard for him, even in this context.

  “I know I am,” I answer, leaning over to kiss him again, this time long and slow, deep and powerful. His fingers thread through my hair, holding me tight against him and I’m not going anywhere. He’ll have a hell of a time getting rid of me at this point.

  “Fuck, Hunter…” he gasps, flushed, eyes wild.

  “That’s the plan, yeah,” I tease, digging our supplies out.

  Sliding down onto his
erection is pure heaven.

  Sex is always good. It’s like pizza. Even when it’s bad, it’s still good. But sex with Jared is on another level. It’s never anything less than amazing, and somehow I forgot that.

  I forgot how good it feels to have him inside me. I forgot how complete he makes me feel.

  The scars on his chest remind me how close I came to never having this again, and I put my hands on the headboard to brace, too scared to touch that tender place even though I’m sure it’s healed by now.

  “Fuck,” he grunts, his hands on my hips, his pelvis lifting off the mattress to slam into me, deeper and harder. I wanted to go easy on him, I wanted this to be gentle and soft, but there’s no room for that with all this pent-up need between us. We’ve both been holding back, both been storing all this up, and now there’s nothing to do but unleash it on each other in the best way.

  He fills me so deep, I squeeze him so tight, it’s a match made in heaven. It’s like we were sculpted to fit each other.

  He drags me down into a kiss and holds me there, not letting me go while our bodies keep moving, the rhythm between us natural, the give and take exactly what we both need. I gasp, my blood going hot and cold all at once, my whole body tensing up, the pleasure too great to put a name to. I can’t say anything because he doesn’t release me from the kiss. Instead, all I can do is groan into his mouth, a desperate sound coming from deep in my chest as every cell in my body lights up like a firework.

  Jared thrusts up a few more times, but he’s not far behind, sending aftershock ripples through me.

  Afterward, I try to collapse to the side of him, but he won’t let me. He holds me tight against him.

  “I’m not that fragile,” he says, kissing my shoulder.

  “Easy for you to say,” I mutter back.

  “Yeah, it is,” he agrees, a hand sliding down my back. “But that doesn’t make it less true.”

  “Maybe,” I say, kissing him. “But now I really do need to get down to the basement, or Ryder’s going to come back and wonder what we did with all the time.”