Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)

by Laramie Briscoe

  “Blaze!”

  I turn around and look down the hallway, seeing Whitney walking toward me. Actually it’s more like a waddle, but she’s making it. She’s been a trooper through this whole ordeal, coming to the hospital every day and staying until Ryan forces her to go home at night. I meet her halfway so she doesn’t have to make the entire length by herself.

  “Hey,” I greet her with a hug. I may not have known her before all this started, but she’s become one of my favorite people in a short amount of time. She listens when I talk – whether I want to vent, remember, or cry – and she doesn’t judge me for what happened with Trevor before the wreck.

  “So, he gets to go home today, huh?” She smiles at me, positively glowing.

  “He does, I can’t believe he’s made so much progress. The doctors are surprised too, but he’s strong and he’s stubborn. That’s half the battle right there.”

  Whitney bites her bottom lip, and gets this look on her face that says she wants to maybe ask me something.

  “Are you okay?”

  She runs a hand through her blonde locks, so like Trevor’s, before she clasps her hands in front of her very pregnant belly. “I have a favor to ask, actually we, as a family, have a favor to ask.”

  My palms sweat because I’m not sure what they’re going to ask. What if they want me to stay away from Trevor while he’s recuperating? What if I’ve overstepped staying at the hospital and spending every waking minute with him? I mean it’s not like I have a ring on my finger. Hell I don’t even have a toothbrush at his place – at least I don’t think I do anymore. Pretty sure he probably threw that out when I told him to take his high-handed archaic attitude and go to hell. I regret that sentiment now, not the fact I said the words. They needed to be said, but I wouldn’t have told him to go to hell. I would have been mature, and we would have sat down; talked things out like adults.

  It’s a super human effort, but I manage not to fold my arms across my chest to close myself off from her. She and her family have been nothing but nice to me, and I remind myself, not everyone has an ulterior motive. “I’m listening.”

  “The thing is, all of us have a lot going on with the baby coming. Ryan’s going to have to do overtime now that Trevor’s hurt. Mom’s going to be helping me with the business, and Dad’s working down on the Gulf. He won’t be able to make trips back except for the weekends, but someone needs to stay with Trev,” she starts, her blue eyes showing the exhaustion of the past few days.

  “I totally agree, he doesn’t need to be by himself. If you want, I can call around and see about some Home Health nurses. I know some of the best in the business. It’s not a problem for me to do that, just tell me what you want me to ask about.”

  She’s struggling, she’s gripping her fingers in front of her, twisting them so tightly I’m afraid she’ll break them off. “That’s not it, exactly.”

  Then I’m lost, because I thought it was pretty clear what she was asking me. “Maybe you better tell me, because now I’m a little confused.”

  Taking a deep breath, she walks over and grabs the handrail before turning around, bracing her back against it. “I think you should be the one to help Trevor. He cares about you, and he’ll do things for you he won’t do for other people. There’s not one other person in the world who will push him the way you will, but you’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

  “I have a job,” I remind her. “One that requires I work long hours.”

  “Don’t you have leave?” she pleads. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but you have the medical experience and you know Trevor. You want to be with him, I can see it every time I’m with the two of you. You both want to be together. What better way to figure out if you can be together than in the hardest of times? Seeing your way through this together? Might make the two of you realize how much your professions don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

  I’m speechless, but I understand where she’s coming from. And she’s right. If I want to prove to Trevor how important my job is, I have to show him. Doing it for him is the best way to do that.

  “I do have leave,” I shrug, starting to weaken. “But what if it all blows up in our faces?”

  Whitney takes my hand. “Then you’ll at least know you tried, and if something like that ever happens again, you’ll know you don’t have regrets.”

  In Trevor’s job there’s a damn good chance something like this could happen again, and the no regrets thing sounds tempting.

  “Okay, I’ll give it a week. If we’re doing good at the end of the week, I’ll extend it until he doesn’t need me anymore,” I hold my hand up. “But Trevor’s got to agree to it.”

  “Already taken care of,” she winks at me and gives me the brightest smile ever.

  I wonder how in the hell she managed that, then my mind flashes back to Thanksgiving morning, I left the two of them alone so they could enjoy their breakfast. She’s already turned and is walking back down the hallway as I shake my head.

  Those Trumbolt siblings are slick and nothing but trouble. Trevor though, he’s the kind of trouble I like to get into.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tank

  A few days home and I’m wishing like hell I was back in the hospital. It’s not like I actually enjoyed being in the place, but there was a sense of safety I felt. Nurses were around at all times, if I needed it, there was an IV of medication that could knock me out of my misery for a few hours. No one questioned when I asked for it. There the pain wasn’t so all-consuming. Doctors and nurses came in at all hours of the goddamn day and night, it gave me something else to concentrate on. In my home I can’t get away from my pain, can’t get away from the thoughts running through my head, can’t get away from Blaze’s hot body always so close to mine. I know part of the problem is I won’t take the painkillers, but I hate the way they make me feel. And I can’t physically take Blaze, because that’s just work I can’t do quite yet.

  “Trevor, where are you?”

  My stomach clenches as I hear the voice of the woman-turned-angel who’s overseeing my care. Having Blaze fulfill every need I have is both amazingly sweet of her, but at the same time incredibly frustrating. We’re stuck in close quarters, and we’re so fucking careful with one another, I almost want to antagonize her into an argument to see those green eyes flash with fire and annoyance.

  “Back here in the den,” I yell so she can hear me. It seriously sucks trying to get up right now, but an ingrained part of my manhood can’t help but ask. “Do you need help?”

  Her tone of voice is a warning. “Don’t even think about it, Trev.”

  But I do think about it, and she’s been gone for a few hours, getting stuff I need around here. A tightness settles in my gut. I’m used to doing things for myself, and knowing she’s had to do those errands kills a portion of my pride. Thankful I was given the okay to use crutches, I force my body upright and off the couch. It takes me almost a full sixty seconds to grit through the pain. Every time my leg isn’t elevated, it fucking kills me. Something about the blood rushing down to where the hardware they’ve used to put it back together is located. My arms ache when I test putting my two hundred and twenty pounds on them to swing myself forward, but I grit though that shit, too. Nothing’s ever been handed to me, and I don’t think this recovery is going to be easy. Not by a long shot.

  She glances up at me as I hobble into the kitchen, exasperation on her face. “I told you to stay in there.”

  The fire and annoyance I wanted earlier? It rages in her eyes and I can’t help the smile I direct her way. “When have I ever been good at following directions?”

  She laughs, the sound deep and throaty, going straight to my dick. Good, because I haven’t felt anything there in a while and I was a little worried. Unfortunately, the only thing I can do is lean against the kitchen cabinets and watch her unload the groceries she’s bought.

  Blaze is gorgeous today, wearing a pair of cut off jean shorts with an old
Brantley Gilbert concert t-shirt. It always amazes people she likes him, but if you ask her, she’ll sit and give you a run-down of the twenty plus times she’s seen him. She bought his first CD online from a boot store in Georgia – she’s a legit fan – and don’t try to say she’s not. Them’s fightin’ words.

  “Why don’t you go over there and have a seat. I’ll make us some lunch and you can take a pain pill,” she directs that sharp gaze at me.

  We’ve fought over the pain pill issue since I came home. I saw so many guys get addicted to them. They used them to block the pain both physical and emotional, and then they couldn’t live without them. I don’t ever want that to be me. I already know from having a taste of Blaze, I have a fucking addictive personality. Even though I went on dates with other women while we were broken up, I did it to make her jealous in hopes it would show her she missed me. The truth? Since the moment I met her, there’s never been anyone else for me except her.

  “Wow,” she turns her back to me, putting the bread on a shelf where she can reach it, as I have a seat, propping my crutches against the back of the chair, as I turn my body around. “The fact you didn’t argue says a lot about the pain you’re really in.”

  I shrug, reaching over to pull up another chair, thankful for my long arms as I prop my leg up. If I’m honest it hurts like a bitch. “I might be willing to take one.”

  Blaze

  To say I’m amazed at the words coming out of Trevor’s mouth is an understatement. He’s fought me tooth and nail about the pain pill issue. I’ve watched him be in agony for days and the only thing he does is grit his teeth and bear it. Watching it is hard, almost as hard as him being in the hospital when I know there’s something he could do for it. I understand his reservations, but I come from the school of helping people and when it’s as simple as taking a pill; you just do it.

  “You’ll finally get a good sleep if you do,” I gently persuade him. “I know what you’re afraid of and I’m here to make sure you don’t depend on them.”

  He sighs when I mention them again. His annoyance is an elephant in the room. He’s been on edge since he came home and I think it’s because he hasn’t let himself completely rest. I think he’s scared to allow it. But now I’m saying enough, he’s never going to get well if he doesn’t.

  I turn around and suck in a breath, struck dumb by the long, lean body in front of me. While he tilts his head back, I let my gaze travel along the picture he makes in front of me. Because he’s hurting, he’s sweating more than normal, which means he’s been going around with no shirt on. Right or wrong, I’ve been giving a thanks to the Heavens above. Trevor Trumbolt is a tall drink of water, as my mom would say.

  His biceps bulge where he’s got his arms crossed in front of a chest that’s broad thanks to hard work in the gym. I’ve watched him before; he lifts heavy and runs long distances, which definitely helps his stamina, if you know what I mean. It allows him to be strong, but lean and not overly muscled.

  His chest is smooth and most of the hair Trevor sports is on his head and his face. I’ve never seen him without at least a goatee, but since he’s been laid up, he’s let the beard grow, allowing what he already had in place to thicken.

  He’s still not paying attention to me, so I allow my gaze to continue down to his flat stomach. Ridges and dips of flesh paint shadows along his skin. Those v-dips? I’ve licked them. Not ashamed to say it. I’ve thought about them more often than I should have, and I’ve caught myself being mesmerized by them a time or two the last forty-eight hours. Specifically, when he’s struggling to get up and he relies strictly on his core. Dayum that core is strong.

  Sweatpants stop my journey. Just below the v-dips he’s got fleece on and even though they ride low on his hips, I don’t think they’ll be coming off anytime soon. Before I realize it, my gaze has drifted down to the bulge I can see so prominently pressing against the soft material.

  Shaking myself, I pull my gaze back up to his head. The longish blonde hair is up in a manbun, which I used to call ridiculous. Now, it gives him a manlier appearance if that’s even possible. The days in the hospital have leaned him out further, causing his jawbone to form a sharper line and giving him a more dangerous edge.

  His eyes open and he rolls his head to the side, blue eyes glowing so dark they’re almost black. “Do I pass inspection?” His tone is both amused and sarcastic – the smirk on his face complete smartass.

  I give him my own smirk as I clear my throat and shake off the arousal flowing through my body. “You know I think you’re a very good looking man, Trev. Attraction was never the issue between us.”

  He’s quiet as I go about throwing away the grocery bags and cleaning off the counters. I wonder what’s going through his head, he never tells me, and if there’s one thing I want, it’s him to confide in me.

  He opens his mouth, but instead of what I want to hear, he asks a question. “What’s for lunch?”

  “How hungry are you?”

  He runs a hand down his stomach, calling attention to the smooth expanse of skin. “If I’m going to take a pill, I need carbs to help me absorb it. I don’t want to feel fucked up, Blaze. You know I don’t like it.”

  If there’s one thing Trevor hates, it’s feeling out of control.

  “How about I make us both a baked potato and some grilled chicken to put on top? Then you can take your pain pill and lie down.”

  He seems to consider what I’ve asked for a moment, but then a mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Will you lie down with me?”

  I’m asking for trouble if I do, and I know it. The problem is, it’s always been hard for me to say no to Trevor – about anything. He rests better with me next to him. This is a fact since he’s been hurt.

  Truthfully, since we’ve been home, I miss him. He’s not as accessible as he was in the hospital. There he was vulnerable, willing to let himself accept help. Here he’s not so easy to read. He sure as hell doesn’t accept or ask for help the way he did in Birmingham and if I’m honest…I’m tired.

  “I’ll lie down with you, but I want you to sleep.”

  He crosses his heart with his finger. “Promise babe, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  Grabbing some potatoes, I poke holes in them and put them in the microwave to cook. While that’s heating, I grab the leftover chicken we had last night, and get it ready to nuke. This is not fancy, but Trevor seems to appreciate anything I do for him. In those aspects, he’s a good patient. Telling me his pain level truthfully and taking care of himself? He fucking sucks at that.

  “How’s your leg?” I wash my hands, going to stand beside him.

  “It hurts today,” he admits grimacing slightly as he moves it to try and get more comfortable.

  “Trev, you can’t overdo it.” I wish they’d put him in a brace instead of a plaster cast, but with the hardware he received it was necessary to make sure his leg heals correctly. Part of that is going to be Trevor allowing his body time to heal itself. I walk over to him, running my hands down his face, kissing his forehead. “You aren’t Superman, you’ve got to take it easy.”

  He leans into my caress, allowing himself a few moments of quiet. “You’re fuckin’ right I’m not Superman,” he mumbles. “If anything, I’m Batman, he’s way more badass.”

  I giggle as I make my way over to the microwave, which has beeped. Within minutes, I have our food and drinks ready, setting them on the table, so we both have access.

  “You take one this afternoon and if it works, you take one tonight,” I say as I hand Trevor a white pill. “You have to rest.”

  “You’ll be with me?”

  Only I know the depth of that question, what it costs him to ask it and how much it means that he did. Reaching over, I grab his hand.

  “I’ll be with you no matter what you need.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tank

  I fucking hate painkillers. I hate the way they make me feel like I’m flying, the dry mouth I get, th
e weird ass dreams I have. I hate it all, but I’ve also learned my body needs to rest. And fuck, I’m tired. More than anything, I’m tired – exhausted even.

  “Want to take the sweatpants off?” Blaze asks as she follows me into the bedroom.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna get hot. I do every time I take these damn things. They make me sweat like a meth addict.”

  We’ve cut the legs off this pair to make them into shorts, but it still takes both of us working to get them down my legs, past my cast, and off my feet. I grab onto the waistline of the boxers I wear to keep them from going with them. Laying down, I help her as best I can by adjusting my leg so that it’s propped up.

  “You comfortable?”

  “I’m fucking tired,” I yawn, putting my arm up over my eyes. “Tired, sore, and damn sorry you have to wait on me hand and foot.”

  That’s the crux of this whole situation. When I was in the hospital, I was so thankful to be alive, I didn’t think about being an almost invalid when I got out. I know I’m being overly dramatic too, but the first day, it was a hard thing for me to go take a piss by myself. For someone who prides themselves on being independent, this has been a shock.

  “Hey,” Blaze covers me up with a sheet. It’s all I’ve been able to tolerate. “I’ll not have you talking about the man I love like that. I know you’re in a bad mood, but I’m hoping a nap will knock you right out of it.”

  My mouth goes dry when she tells me she loves me. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing it. Knowing she does is what got me through everything going on while I was in the hospital, but it’s hard to be grateful for things out here when I’m so frustrated.

  “C’mon in here with me,” I pull her down for a kiss. When she bends over, her shirt dips, allowing me to see the lacy bra she wears underneath it. My finger catches in the material as she makes to straighten up.

  “Trevor,” her voice is a warning.

  “I need to feel you next to me,” I admit, costing me some of my male pride. “Take off the clothes and cuddle up,” I give her my best puppy dog look. “Please.”