by A. M. Arthur
“So they didn’t know the sex ahead of time?”
“Nope, they wanted the surprise, so they did the nursery gender-neutral and asked people to buy shower stuff in all the colors. I think Conrad said they’d agreed on Michael for a boy, so if their next kid is a boy, he’ll probably be a Michael.”
“I’m surprised Uncle Wes hasn’t demanded a namesake.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if the boy ends up being Michael Westin Massey. Which actually has a nice ring to it. They both want at least three kids, as long as their careers can support them.”
Slater searched his memory as he ate more rice, hoping to keep their conversation on Derrick’s family so Slater didn’t have to navigate any more land mines in his own past. “I know Sophie works with you, but what does Conrad do again?”
“Believe it or not, he designs and installs custom closets.”
“Come again?”
“It’s a thing, believe me. I had no idea it was a thing, but he’s got an eye for design and space, and with some of the salaries folks make in Silicon Valley, they can afford to drop a few grand on a custom closet.”
“Huh.” Slater speared a bite of both rice, cabbage and bits of carrot. “So he kind of makes his own hours?”
“For the most part. It helps him be home with Sophie and Mia more right now, between client bookings.”
“Do you want kids?” The question burbled up and out of Slater without warning, helped along by Derrick’s bright smile whenever he mentioned his niece.
“I don’t know, to be honest.” Derrick fiddled with his glass of water. “I like other people’s kids, but I never saw myself as the guy with a minivan, wife and a pack of kids inside. I adore Mia to bits, and I love the kids my cousins have. I’m just not sure I’m cut out to be a dad.” He shot Slater a crooked grin. “You?”
“I’m not really cut out to be a dad, either.” And that was the God’s honest truth. He’d tried his damnedest with Rachel, but all he ever seemed to do was screw up.
“So any siblings?”
“Only child.”
“Bummer.” Derrick winked. “No one I can needle blackmail material out of.”
“Oh, you’re on now, Massey. I am so getting Conrad’s number and getting dirt on you.”
“My life is an open book, man. Ask whatever you want to know.”
Slater considered the statement as he continued eating. He enjoyed chatting with Derrick and did want to get to know the man better. But Slater’s life was not an open book, and he didn’t need Derrick demanding some sort of quid pro quo on information. “Meh, I doubt you’re all that interesting.”
Derrick flipped him off.
After he finished eating, Slater resigned himself to being waited on again by Derrick, who cleared the table. Whatever. It would only be for a few days, until Slater got used to the crutches. He investigated his suitcase, as well as the very small, boring bedroom. Nothing about the place seemed to reflect anything about Derrick as a person. Not that Slater had done much in the way of decorating his cabin, but Hugo had hung a colorful poster over his bed and filled their shared bookshelf with knickknacks and personal things.
None of his jeans would be useful until the stupid cast finally came off, and Slater only had the one pair of sweatpants he was wearing. He’d have to order some online. But he had several pairs of gym shorts he could use for now, so he grabbed those, a clean undershirt and his own all-in-one wash. Time to attempt a shower.
Derrick watched him from near the bathroom door. “You need a hand?”
“Dunno yet. I’m going to try this myself, but I won’t lock the door in case you hear a crash.”
“I’ll keep an ear open.” He handed Slater a plastic garbage bag. “For your cast.”
“Thanks.”
Once inside, Slater nearly locked the bathroom door out of habit. He’d be naked and vulnerable to anyone who came inside once he was on that shower seat—but deep down, he knew Derrick wouldn’t come in unless Slater called for him.
It took some doing and Slater was a little out of breath by the time he was finally undressed and seated on the bath chair, with his plastic-wrapped foot situated on the edge of the tub. Not terribly comfortable but he managed to wash himself. After six days in the hospital, no shower had ever felt so good. He avoided the mirror, aware he needed to shave soon but not really caring tonight. He was thoroughly exhausted by the time he dried and dressed, and he didn’t even ask his host. Slater collapsed onto the big king bed and groaned.
“What do you need, pal?” Derrick asked.
“Pill for me, pillow for my foot.”
“On it.”
After Derrick gave him the pill and a glass of water to sip, he helped Slater get under the actual covers and prop up his foot. Derrick’s touch as he situated the cast for Slater was gentle and warm, and the kindness chased away the remnants of Slater’s first-day jitters. All of today’s activity crashed down on him, and Slater fell asleep before he could say thank you.
* * *
Derrick watched his new roommate sleep for a few minutes, impressed with how stubbornly Slater had managed the last hour. The guy had an independent streak that was going to be a pain in the ass, especially if Slater wore himself out trying to do everything on his own. One of the top things in his discharge papers—Derrick had read them over twice during Slater’s nap earlier—was rest. Lots of rest.
At least the stubborn cowboy had allowed Derrick to fix his dinner.
They hadn’t managed the “where are we sleeping?” conversation before Slater passed out, either. Slater was situated on one side of the bed, and it was big enough for them to share without touching. Derrick wasn’t into groping people while they were asleep, so Slater was perfectly safe if they shared. But Derrick hadn’t shared with another guy in a long time. He also didn’t know if Slater would react badly if he woke with someone else in bed with him when he wasn’t expecting it, and Slater had enough to deal with right now.
Derrick grabbed his pillow and an extra blanket from the closet, then shut the light off. Closed the door most of the way but not all, in case Slater needed help in the middle of the night. It was still early-ish, only a little after nine, so Derrick settled on the futon with his phone and earbuds to watch Netflix for a while.
He woke with the sun barely rising and Slater shouting his name.
Derrick nearly fell getting off the futon, not used to sleeping on its lumpy cushions, and he scrambled to the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”
Slater glared in his general direction. The covers were thrown back, and his cast dangled off the side of the bed in a way that looked painful and awkward. “I need help,” Slater said, tone clearly indicating his displeasure with the statement. “My ribs are killing me and I can’t manage sitting up, and I’ve gotta piss.”
“Oh. Okay.” So not an emergency, then. Good. Now Derrick needed to get his racing heart to calm down. He’d never been woken up by someone screaming his name before and he’d panicked. “How urgent is the need to pee, because I can get a bottle—?”
“You fucking well will not. I can hold my bladder until I get to the toilet. I’m just...going to have to sit. My foot hurts like hell, and I don’t have the energy to stand and balance.”
“No problem. Um, do you want to grab my hands and pull, or should I support you from behind and push?”
“Push.”
Slater let out a long, unhappy groan when they finally got him sitting upright. He pressed one hand to his left side. “How is it possible I feel worse today than I did yesterday?”
“Yesterday you did a whole lot of moving around you haven’t done since before your fall. You gotta rest and take it easy, or you aren’t going to heal.” Derrick brought the crutches over, and he helped steady Slater as the man rose. The fact that they were similar in height made the whole production easi
er.
Once they were in the bathroom, Derrick asked, “You need me to pull your shorts down, man? I promise not to cop a feel.”
“I’m only saying yes because I really need a pain pill right now.”
“Cool.” Derrick politely averted his eyes as he tugged the gym shorts down and then helped Slater sit on the can. “I’ll get the pill.”
He gave Slater a few minutes as he gathered up his meds, water and two crackers to take with the pills, because Slater was due for an ibuprofen, too. Slater stuffed the crackers into his mouth after he took the pills. Derrick helped him stand and pull his shorts back up. Waited by his side while he washed, not liking the stiff way Slater moved.
They got him settled on the futon, and Derrick fetched the stool for his ankle. Got an ice pack and a towel, too. “You’re a lifesaver,” Slater said.
“This lifesaver needs to take a shower and get ready for work.”
Slater stared a beat. “Oh, yeah. I guess it is Monday.”
“Do you need me to take the day off? I can if you think you’ll need help.” As much as Derrick adored his job, he’d take time off in a heartbeat if Slater asked him to. Slater was still figuring out his crutches and getting used to the apartment, so—
“Nah, I can manage. Do your thing, you don’t have to babysit me.”
Derrick held Slater’s gaze but the guy had a great poker face, and if Derrick insisted he should stay, Slater would just insist Derrick leave. Slater was stubborn as hell, and while he accepted the help Derrick offered, he clearly didn’t like it. “Okay.” He showed Slater how to use his TV and gaming system before hitting the shower.
After he dressed, Derrick made them both a quick breakfast of frozen waffles. Wrote a list of phone numbers for Slater including his office number, Dez’s cell (since she worked from home), the landlord’s number, and just to be an ass, added, “911—in case of emergency.”
Slater rolled his eyes at that.
“Seriously, though,” Derrick said. “If you fall or get too tired to do something, call me or Dez. She’s super chill and lives right across the foyer.”
“I will. Thank you. Now go to work.”
“Yes, dear.”
Derrick grabbed his laptop bag, double-checked his phone was in it, and headed for the apartment door. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”
“It’ll all be cinders by lunchtime.”
With a snort of laughter and a tiny ounce of worry for his friend, Derrick went to work.
Chapter Eight
Two hours into his morning, Slater ran headfirst into a problem he hadn’t truly considered with this living arrangement: boredom.
He’d never been much of a TV-show watcher, preferring contained stories in movies, and even then he was picky in what he watched. He was a fan of horror and SF and some comedies, but he preferred smart humor to fart jokes. Nothing caught his eye as he scrolled the hundreds of choices on Derrick’s streaming apps. His own tablet got a free signal but he’d forgotten to get Derrick’s WiFi info before he left. He could read, but ever since the fall, reading for too long gave him headaches.
Hell, reading the lengthy discharge paperwork had given him one yesterday.
Slater was supposed to sit and rest, but by the time lunch rolled around and he’d managed to cobble together a ham sandwich and chips from Derrick’s food—he definitely needed to give the guy money for groceries, or do an online order, or something—Slater was going out of his mind. And he had weeks of this left ahead of him!
Derrick called him at twelve thirty, and Slater simply said all was well. He’d figure out the boredom issue on his own. He managed to waste all of five minutes ordering more sweatpants on his phone. Played a few of his games. Nope. He just wasn’t used to sitting on his ass all day long. He needed to be doing something.
Curious about this person named Dez, Slater hauled himself up onto his crutches and headed for the door. Derrick had showed him where he kept his spare apartment key, but did Slater really need to lock the door if he was going twenty feet away? Probably not, because Derrick mentioned the house having a separate front door key he needed to get a copy of for Slater.
Should be fine for a five-minute neighborly chat.
The foyer was empty and quiet, and Slater crutched his way across the hardwood floors. He took a moment to really look around. The house had probably been charming back in its heyday, and the owner had done a good job restoring the original molding and banisters. With more and more younger people remaining single and/or child-free, creating apartments out of former homes made a lot of sense.
He ran a hand through his messy hair before knocking.
A moment passed before the door swung open. A very petite person smiled up at him from a good ten inches down. They wore paint-stained overalls and a black tee, and had short hair. “Hey, uh, Morgan?” Slater asked.
“Dez O’Connor, and you must be Derrick’s boyfriend, Slater,” they said with a grin.
Crap, he was so unused to socialization he couldn’t even get a new introduction right. “Yeah, I am. It’s nice to meet you, Dez.”
“Same. Derrick asked me and Morgan to stop by later tonight to meet you, but this is great. I was taking a stretch break, anyway.”
“Stretch break?”
“Yeah.” She ushered him into the most cluttered apartment he’d ever seen. “I’m going back and forth between a quilt project and some clothing redesigns, and when I get caught up, I get really stiff. Taking regular stretch breaks is good for my back, muscles and digestion.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“So how do you like Derrick’s place?”
“It’s nice. I’m grateful he’s letting me recover here, instead of the ranch.”
“I bet. He told us a little bit about that. Being in a smaller space and closer to people is probably better in the long run. I mean, I’m almost always home.”
“So he said.” Slater gazed around the piles of shopping bags, plastic totes stacked on each other, bits of furniture peeking out. “Um, you mind if I sit?”
“Sure.” She led him to a couch, and he sank into it, grateful to get those crutches away from his armpits. Dez plunked down beside him. “So what brings you by? Bored already?”
“Very. I’m used to structured days and chore lists, not sitting on my ass watching TV.”
“I can empathize, I think. I was bullied so much when I was a kid that my mom ended up homeschooling me until high school, and there were some days I craved human interaction so badly I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel. I mean, I’m not the most sociable guy on the ranch by far, but I was always around other people. Tourists, horsemen, even the horses. Being completely alone is...stifling.”
“Then I’m glad you stopped over.” Dez lightly poked him in the shoulder. “Hey, you should take up some kind of art or hobby project. Then we can hang out together and do our stuff, so you won’t be lonely.”
“I’m not very artistic or creative.”
“I bet you have some sort of hidden talent. And I have tons of craft kits and materials hiding around this place.”
No kidding.
“I have a blog,” Dez continued, “where I show off the things I make and show the project from start to finish, and sometimes I post videos online, too. So once in a while, a fan will send me something to try for fun, but I always insist it’s either a kit they got super-clearance or from a thrift store. My whole thing is making the old or worn stuff new and fun again.”
Slater understood why Derrick liked Dez so much. She was interesting and had so much positive energy, he just wanted to sit there and absorb it. He also appreciated her worldview on reusing things instead of trashing them—even if the cluttered apartment made his skin itch.
“The blog thing is kind of cool,” Slater
said.
“It’s a lot of fun, and it’s helped me really accept my true self, and I saw the confusion when I answered the door. I’m nonbinary, but I prefer she/her pronouns.”
“Oh. Okay.” Slater actually knew what that meant, thanks to Hugo and his frequent evening rants about the LGBT+ community accepting all parts of the rainbow. “And Morgan?”
“Straight cis male. But he is amazing and loves me for who I am, not how I present one day to another.”
“Good. I’m glad you have that kind of acceptance.”
Dez tilted her head. “You don’t?”
“At the ranch, I do. Did. Do? It’s a totally accepting place, but my past is...murky.”
“Got it, and if this is way too personal for a first conversation, please change the subject. I’m just glad to see Derrick dating one person for a change. He’s such a great guy, and he deserves a great person.” Her eyes narrowed. “So if you’re taking advantage of him for a place to stay...”
“Totally not doing that.” Especially since living together had been all Derrick’s idea. “I like Derrick a lot, and the only reason we’re living together this soon is because of my stupid fucking ankle.” He also liked knowing Derrick’s friends were protective of him. Derrick wouldn’t be alone when Slater eventually left.
“Good,” Dez said. “So is there anything you have a special interest in? Besides horses, I guess? Like I said, I have all kinds of craft things and starter kits. Or I can just randomly pick something and you can try it out.”
“I can honestly say I’ve never walked into a craft store in my life, so I wouldn’t know one thing from another. As long as it’s something I can do with my hands and concentrate on for long periods of time, I’m game for whatever.” His hand-to-eye coordination had improved immensely in the last few days, but it never hurt to keep exercising it.
“Cool, okay. Sit tight.”
“All right.” A little nervous, but also intrigued, Slater watched Dez jump up and disappear behind a stack of plastic storage tubs. Things shifted and moved, and she muttered to herself quite a lot, and Slater found the entire thing kind of hilarious. It was a great distraction from his throbbing ankle. He twisted so he could rest it on the arm of the sofa. Keeping it elevated was key, and he should probably get an ice pack on it soon.
