But Trick’s not some guy I dated a few times. We’ve never dated. He’s gone from random stranger to my best friend. I could retrieve my dignity and walk away from the Trick who fucked my body and mind at the top of my stairs. But Trick, my best friend, means too much to me. I stayed for him … I forgave him.
“Trick?”
“Hmm?” His eyes remain closed.
“Why do you want or let people think you’re gay?”
A silence falls over us as his words take their time. “I feel … used by women. I’m not completely sure why, it’s just a feeling about my past. It’s given me an aversion to them.
“Why do you say it like that? Like you don’t know or remember? Is this about your addiction?”
He lifts his shoulders. “Yeah … that’s definitely part of it. My past is complicated. I can’t really explain it. But for some reason the women I encounter in my line of work don’t like taking no for an answer, and I don’t like feeling controlled.”
“But if you’re ‘gay’ they don’t approach you?”
He laughs. “No, if I’m gay I don’t lose their business when I turn down their offers. It’s accepted as a sexual preference and not rejection.”
I rest my cheek against his chest and close my eyes, melting into the beautiful rhythm of his heart. “Trick?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you try to explain your complicated past?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep swallow. “I hope so … someday.”
My tears renew as his voice cracks with the last word. Even without knowing what it is, I feel his pain. The part of my mind I can’t shut off goes down the road paved with images of abuse or worse.
Scooting up, I bury my face in his neck, pressing my lips to him. “I don’t need to know.”
Chapter Twelve
Yawn. Stretch.
“Oh shit!” I notice the time, and I have thirty minutes to be walking through the hospital doors. I never oversleep; then again, I never cry like I did yesterday. It’s physically draining.
“Oversleep?” I hear Trick, but he’s not in bed.
I flail around in the covers trying to untangle. Then I leap out and run to the bathroom, slowing down just enough to do a double take at Trick on a yoga mat in some insane forearm inversion pose. “You’re doing yoga again?” Trick is one dedicated guy. I don’t think he ever skips his morning practice.
He chuckles. “What gave it away?”
Another unforgettable image—Trick shirtless wearing loose fitting drawstring pants, balancing on his forearms causing all his muscles to flex into perfect definition. Yep, there’s nothing sexy about that. Yeah right! I continue around the glass-walled corner into the bathroom. “Oh, and the yoga mat gave it away.”
After throwing on my clothes in just under thirty seconds, I swipe my tongue along my teeth. Yuck! “Are we one of those couples that can occasionally share a toothbrush?” I yell.
“That depends.”
I jump, not expecting him to be standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest looking completely worthy of playing hooky, which I have never done.
“On?” I’m already squeezing on a glob of toothpaste because it’s happening whether he likes it or not.
“On if you need me to send you my dental records first.”
I finish scrubbing and spit. “Not funny,” I shake my head but grin as I start to brush past him.
He grabs me and pins me to the wall, attacking my neck like a horny vampire. “Well your face says otherwise.”
I wriggle out of his hold and grab my purse and keys.
“No breakfast?”
“I’ll have my Green Lantern at the hospital.”
He pulls on a shirt, shoves his feet into his boots, and follows me onto the elevator. “Green Lantern? Is this something I should know about?” Pulling me into his arms, he kisses me until my knees literally give out.
After walking me to my car he kisses me again, and I’m so going to need a panty change when I get to work.
“Go save the world.”
I get in and he shuts my door. Before I pull out, I roll down my window. “Oh, and if you truly love me, then you will most certainly do your homework on the Green Lantern.” I blow him a kiss and speed off.
*
The next forty-eight hours run together in a continuous blur. A nasty string of influenza hits early leaving the ER understaffed. I haven’t been home yet, and my intermittent sleep in the on-call room has left me feeling on the borderline of nausea and hallucination.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Jade,” I say through a big yawn.
“You safe to drive home?”
“Good question, but I think if I roll down a window and blast the radio I should be fine.”
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I glance at my phone. Trick’s not a stalker and he’s definitely not clingy. I’ve texted him several times over the past two days just to let him know I wouldn’t be leaving the hospital anytime soon. He’s replied once with “That sucks.” I guess it’s better than nothing. Right now I’m craving him, but I need sleep so I decide to go home; besides it’s nine in the morning and he’s probably working anyway.