Page 52 of Center of Gravity

Winslow circled around us until I gave him a pet and cooed in his ear. Rob eyed the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, dude. Stairs are a no go, at least for today. How about your parents’ old room down the hall?”

Rob curled his lip, then acquiesced with a nod, so we got him set up in there, Winslow dancing at the edge of the bed until Rob was reclined in it, then he hopped up and molded himself to Rob’s side.

“Man, he’s really taken to you,” I said as Rob stretched out his hand to the dog. Winslow licked at his hand, then sniffed him up and down as if in assessment.

“That’s because he’s off in the head. Glutton for punishment.” His words came slurred from the meds.

“I think it’s more a case of birds of a feather.” I grinned.

Rob grunted, probably meaning to disagree.

“I’ll take the guest bedroom again and give my boss a call.”

Rob had been drifting toward sleep, but his eyes snapped open. “Absolutely not. Go home, kid. I’m fine.”

I bristled at the word choice, but remained where I was, arms firming as I folded them across my chest.

“Don’t be stupid. There’s nobody else here to help you. What if you’ve got to take a piss, need a drink of water, the house catches on fire?”

“Fine, fine.” He waved his hand lazily then let it drop back to his side. “I think I’m going to just—” Another sluggish nod toward his pillow and he didn’t even finish the sentence before his eyelids drooped and he was asleep.

I dug aroundin his fridge, then called my mom, who was concerned, although relieved to have final proof that her roast hadn’t caused any problems. Franklin was harder to read, a little clipped when I explained a family friend had been hurt in an accident. At last he sighed and said he’d pull a guy from one of the other crews for the rest of the day.

I hung up, made a sandwich, and ate it at the kitchen table, trawling the Internet on the computer Rob had left open on the table. His email account was open, as well. I stared at it, chewing on my lip, a tiny thrill running through my body that was half composed of guilt as I considered the invasion of privacy. And for what? Just because I was bored? Just because I had a stupid crush and wanted to know more about his life, what he was like back in what I’d come to think of as his “real” world in Savannah? I’d almost convinced myself that Rob was right, that what was casual interest was inflamed by his denial. That what I was really interested in was the conquest.

Sighing, I pushed the computer away and rummaged around until I found Winslow’s dog food. I filled his bowl, freshened his water bowl then went down the hall to peek into the bedroom and confirm Rob was still passed out. His head was tilted to one side, his mouth closed, breaths coming easily, and even in his sleep, there was a certain sternness to his expression that had me smiling to myself. He’d been about to kiss me even after he’d fallen, the prickly fucker.

I set a fresh glass of water by his bed and moved his pill bottles within reach. In the guest room, the sheets had been laundered and the bed remade since the night I’d spent in it. Not that I’d expected any differently. Rob was nothing if not methodical and organized.

I tucked myself under the covers and listened to the faint music of distant waves breaking. When I fell asleep, I dreamed in nonsensical fragments of him.

17

Rob

Iwoke at ten. I hadn’t slept that late in as many years, but my back was grateful; when I arched my spine experimentally, the pain volume had lowered from a calamitous train-whistle shriek to a muted growl that only spiked if I shifted too fast. I eyed the pill bottles on the nightstand, the glass of water Alex must have set out when I was sleeping. Winslow stirred with a groggy snort, then nudged his wet nose against the inside of my arm, looking up at me beseechingly with the corner of his lip stuck to his gum. I laughed softly and gave him a belly rub until he shook me off and stood. Another shake and he leapt from the bed, theclackof his nails on the hardwood fading as he moved down the hallway.

I wondered if Alex had gone, but a few moments later came the quiet padding of bare feet. Alex’s head appeared in the doorway, hair askew, half of it plastered to his cheek, fingers catching on the edge of the doorframe as he stretched his back. His mouth curled into a sexy smile.

“Morning,” he said, then his eyes drifted below my chin, down the length of me. “And hello.”

I put my hand over the tented sheet. “That’s nature. Don’t take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks for the clarification. Not sure if you remember, but I do in fact possess a dick. I know how it works. But I appreciate your concern that my self-esteem stay on the level. I’m seriously rethinking this five-star breakfast I was about to make you.”

“Are you always so feisty to the infirm?”

“I haven’t even started.” Alex scoffed. “You need to eat.”

He disappeared and reappeared twenty minutes later with scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon that he nestled in my lap on top of an old issue of Dad’s civil war magazine. I ate while he watched me like a hawk, as if I was a laid-up old man. Setting my fork down, I glared at him.

“Are you counting every bite?”

He gave me a sly smile and shrugged. “Maybe I’m just watching your mouth.”

“My mouth doesn’t need watching.”