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Emotions stir in me and I’m not doing a good job of shoving them into a corner. It doesn’t help that I keep sneaking peeks at the angled planes of his face.
I park in front of Cody’s building and stare up at the intimidating tower of glass, cement and blaring lights. He owns that entire structure. And several others around the city.
Can I do this? Can I enter his world again and just… hope it doesn’t chew me up and spit me out this time?
Cody stirs and his eyes crack open. His voice has a husky tinge when he says, “We’re here?”
“We are.”
He sits up and stretches. “Wait for me. Don’t catch a cab. I’ll drive you home.”
He can’t be serious. “You’re exhausted, Cody.”
“And you’re not?” He gives me a stern look. Despite his hard expression, he still looks like someone running on zero sleep. “You were nice enough to drop Joel home. I’ll get him upstairs and then come back down to take you.”
“No way. I’ll just call an Uber.”
“This late?” His eyebrows form an angry V.
“Cody, it’s six thirty in the morning.”
He gives me a perplexed look, peers up at the sunshine blasting through the sky, and then frowns. “Oh.”
“I’ll give you a hand with Joel.”
When I start to climb into the backseat, Cody tugs on my arm. “You get the wheelchair.”
I laugh at his ridiculousness and set up the wheelchair.
Joel is half-asleep but, when he sees me, he smiles sloppily. “Clarissa’s here. This must be a dream.”
“Watch it.” Cody growls.
“Ugh. Bolton’s here. I guess this is a nightmare.”
I flutter a hand to my mouth to hold back my laughter.
Cody gives me a ‘you see what I have to deal with’look.
“We’re moving upstairs, tough guy.” I grab the handles of Joel’s wheelchair and steer him up the ramp.
The layout of Cody’s house is perfect to maneuver a wheelchair. It’s easy to settle Joel in the elevator and wheel him into the penthouse suite.
“Where’s his room?” I ask.
Cody points down the hallway. Once we get there, he helps a half-awake Joel into bed while I take off his shoes.
“Let him sleep with them on,” Cody grumbles.
“It’s uncomfortable,” I counter. “Does he sleep with a blanket?”
“How should I know?”
Slanting the grumpy man a dark look, I pull the sheet up to Joel’s chin. The teenager looks a lot less flirty and a lot more frail when he’s asleep. His machine beeps steadily next to his bed.
Cody pulls down the shades so the sun doesn’t disturb Joel in his sleep.
Together, we tiptoe outside.