Page 33 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

EVERYBODY NEEDS

Alix

I focused on the work that Tuesday, grateful to have it.

Reading blueprints, giving out assignments, checking work.

A kink in the wire off one of the spools, because somebody hadn’t been paying attention.

Wiring a new connection at the substation, because I trusted myself more than anyone else in these conditions.

It was cold today, and windy, too, and I had to slip hand warmers into my gloves before attempting it.

In the afternoon, Carlton slipped getting down into the trench and came up hobbling, and I sent him to the medical office under care of Artie, since I was just as glad to be rid of Artie for a while. Guess who’d messed up that wire?

Was I still achy myself? Not too bad, because the IV meds had helped, and so had the Tylenol I was popping every few hours.

If I thought about anything, I thought about waking up beside Sebastian at five o’clock yesterday morning, seeing his bare shoulder and arm outside of the duvet, because he’d been sleeping with his hand on my side.

His lashes lying dark against his olive skin, a scruff of beard darkening his jaw, and his body radiating that warmth .

I tried to move quietly as I slid out from under his arm, but he stirred, then blinked the amber eyes at me as they sharpened quickly into awareness, and I was reminded of a wolf raising his head, instantly alert, poised for action.

He didn’t ask, “How are you feeling?” like I’d feared. He said, “Good morning.” And smiled that slow, sweet smile. His smile did something funny to my heart, because there was something happening in my chest. How could you feel a man in your chest? A man you’d barely even kissed?

“Good morning,” I said, then got on a hand and knee and leaned over to kiss his cheek, heedless of my morning breath. “Thanks for last night. You were great.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” he said, and I laughed.

A jingle of tags, and Lexi came in. She stuck her muzzle on the foot of the bed again, wagged her tail, and looked at Sebastian longingly, and he said, “Oh, forget it. Jump up.” Which she happily did, curling herself against his side.

And then emitted an odor so foul, it had both of us gasping.

“I’ll take her out,” I said. “I hope it’s soon enough.”

“Not as much as I do,” Sebastian said, climbing out of bed fast. He was wearing nothing but a pair of navy-blue boxer briefs, and I forgot about Lexi for a minute, because, well …

I should say I looked at his wolf face, but I didn’t. I stared at his thighs. Thick with well-defined muscle, dusted with dark hair. His calves were just as powerful, but somehow, I wasn’t looking at those. I was looking at his thighs, and his hips, and …

He said, “Sorry,” and grinned. “It’s morning.”

“Oh!” I realized where I’d been staring and hastily moved my gaze upward, which wasn’t much better.

Abs, with a whole bunch more of that muscle definition and the diagonal line of muscle slanting down toward the spot I’d just been studying.

Bare chest and shoulders. Not pumped up like he’d been in the gym, just … strong. Fit. And, frankly, beautiful .

I said, “I’m kind of sorry I fell asleep so fast last night. My first night sleeping with you, and I didn’t even see you. You’re very good-looking.”

He laughed. “So are you.”

“Oh, yeah, in my clothes from yesterday. Why do you have to look that good waking up?”

“Well, I won’t deny that I’d rather see you as naked as me. If you’d like to get that way …”

Which was when another powerful wave of hot-sauce-induced dog flatulence wafted over. That’ll interrupt your tender moment. Besides, we both had to go to work.

Now, I was finishing up that work, then climbing into my truck in the December dark, my body pretty darn tired after four days of pain, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about Sebastian again, and not about his body.

Five-forty. His plane didn’t land until almost six-thirty. What was I going to do, drive my dirty self to his apartment and sit there for an hour waiting for him? No. I drove home, took my shower, ate leftovers from the night before, and then looked at the time again.

Seven-ten. I hesitated, thought about a text, and hit the phone icon instead.

Three rings and voicemail. I swore at myself, thought again about a text, and didn’t send it.

Five minutes later, my phone rang. I picked it up fast and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. Just that one word, and my heart sank.

“It was bad,” I said.

An exhalation. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t answer. I was in the shower.”

“Ben?”

“Walking Lexi. With his headphones in. He barely said a word on the trip back. I—” He stopped.

“Have you had dinner?” I asked .

“Getting a delivery,” he said. “Any time now.”

“Oh. Good.” It was way too hard to tell what was going on in his head. No way to do this but to ask. “Would you like me to come over? Would it help?”

“Probably. But I’m not sure I’m up to talk, and you have work tomorrow and so do I.”

“I could come sleep with you again,” I said, feeling a little shy. “If it would help to have me.”

“Well, yeah, but Ben?—”

“What?”

“I’m not sure that would be good,” he said, and my heart did some more of that sinking. “Him hearing us.”

I had to laugh. “Sebastian. I’m not asking you to have sex with me. Tonight? After the day you’ve had? I’m going to come over and demand you perform?”

“Hey, I can perform.” He had some amusement in there, somehow. Sebastian was a very strong man. “You seemed like you wanted to make me feel better, and that’d do it. If you’re feeling better, of course.”

“Well, it’s not happening. But I’d like to come over. It would feel better for me, too. I know I don’t like fussing, but it’s better to think I can help.”

“Funny how that works,” he said, his tone dry.

“OK,” I said. “I get it. I have to be asleep by nine anyway, so I’m not going to make you talk. Or Ben, either, unless he wants to. I could pick up some ice cream on the way, though. What do you think?”

“Is this a trick question?” he asked. “Come.”

It was so normal. Exciting, having him open the door to me, having him immediately slide a hand into my hair, bend his head, and kiss me so thoroughly, all I could do was hang on, until he lifted his head, smiled into my eyes, and asked, “Why is my back cold?”

“Oh!” I hastily removed the hand with the bag of ice cream, then lifted it. “Haagen-Dazs chocolate peanut butter and Ben & Jerry’s chocolate-chip cookie dough. The best of both worlds. Also thick hot fudge sauce, because it always makes me feel better, anyway. Where’s Ben?”

“Living room. Of course.” I should have known that, as things were exploding over speakers inside the apartment.

“Before I go in there …” I searched his face. “How do I help?”

“By doing what you wanted me to do, I guess. Being there, but not fussing.”

“Good,” I said. “My specialty.” And did it. I sat and watched Ben’s movie with him for half an hour as he and I ate big bowls of ice cream and hot fudge sauce and Sebastian didn’t, and then I got up and said, “I’ll say goodnight.”

Ben turned his head, and then he actually muted the TV.

“Thanks for the ice cream,” he said. He looked tired and at once older than fourteen, and so young and vulnerable, too.

His curls were messy again, and I smoothed my hand over them.

He didn’t actually duck away, but I didn’t push it, just removed my hand and said, “Rough day, huh.”

He looked away and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his scrawny throat, and said, “Yeah. It was like you said.”

“It’s hard. I think I said the hardest thing you could do.”

“Yeah.” He still wasn’t looking at me, but that was all right.

“However you feel,” I said, “whatever you need—know that it’s OK to feel that and need that. You can feel sad, but you can also feel mad. Mad is normal. Even being mad at your mom.”

Now he did look at me. “How can I be mad at my mom? She cried today. I never saw her cry before. She’s so weak. I never saw her be like that.”

My heart hurt for him. “It’s scary, I think, dying, and it has to be scariest of all for a parent who has to leave her kid.

Imagine how that stabs at her, and how lonely she’s been without you.

I guess that tells you how much she loves you, that she was able to send you away.

I know that seeing you today must have been the best thing that could happen for her now, and to know that you’re safe here.

Cared for.” He swallowed again, and I saw the tears he was holding back.

“It must have felt almost impossible to leave her again, though,” I decided I had to say. “To say goodbye.”

Now, he was crying. Not out loud, like a child, but silently, his face twisting with the pain of it. I sat down again, held his hand, and, when he leaned in, put my arms around him. “I know,” I said. “I know. It’s going to hurt.”

“Sebastian says …” The words came out in gulps as he twisted away. “I’m supposed to learn to ride it or something. So I don’t suffer. But I can’t.”

Sebastian was there now, crouched beside the couch, his hand on Ben’s knee. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle. “Nobody can avoid the pain in the moment. It’s too raw right now. All you can do is let it hurt.”

“But I don’t want to!” Ben wailed. Lexi, who’d been on her dog bed, had her head pushed under his hand now, trying to help, and he put his hand in her fur and held on. “I want to get out of here,” he said. “I want to walk and walk and … or I just want to watch TV and not think.”

“You could run,” I said.

He stared at me, passing a hand over his messy upper lip. “What?”

“Hang on.” I went into Sebastian’s bathroom and came out with a wad of toilet paper. “One thing you need while somebody dies is Kleenex. Put it on your shopping list, Sebastian. Everybody cries then.”

“Sebastian … didn’t,” Ben got out from behind the toilet paper.

“Sebastian will,” the man himself said. “You’re going along thinking you’re OK, and then, bam, the wave hits you. That’s how it works. The trick is not to be scared of it, and to believe it will pass until the next time. You can’t heal the cracks unless you feel them first.”

“I hate your philosophy, or whatever it is,” Ben said. By this point, Lexi’s head was on his knee, as close as she could get to him.

Sebastian laughed. “I know. Everybody tries to help, to say the right things, but the deal is—there aren’t any right things.

When people say them, they just want you to feel their love, I guess, so you’re not alone, and so you don’t …

you don’t worry about not doing it right.

About not feeling enough, if you’re kind of numb, or about falling apart, if that’s what’s happening.

Consider the source of the concern, I guess. ”

“Oh.” Ben looked drained now. Exhausted. “How come you said running?” he asked me. “I don’t feel like running.”

“Not now,” I said. “You’re tired. Pain is incredibly tiring. Physical and emotional pain both. But when you’re mad, when you’re overwhelmed, running can help. It’s something you can do. It kind of works the pain out of your body. If you like—” I stopped.

“What?” Ben asked.

“On my day off. Sunday. We could do a trail run at the Forest Park.” I glanced at Sebastian. “Not during your game, of course. We’re watching that.”

“It’ll probably rain,” Ben said.

“It probably will,” I agreed. “But like I said—pushing through the mud and the effort and the discomfort is what it’s all about.

I could be all philosophical and say that it helps you push through in the rest of your life, reminds you that you can do more than you think, or I can just say that working out really hard is the best therapy I know.

” I glanced at Sebastian. “I’ll bet you’re glad to be going to practice tomorrow. ”

“I am,” he said. “Moving helps. Makes me feel less stuck.”

“Then,” I said, “come to bed with me and rest up so you can do that.”

Ben said, “Oh, gross,” which showed that he was reviving.

“Yep,” I said. “Because being held is one of the best things of all.”

He made a face, I laughed, and he said, “Is it OK if I sleep out here? I just want to fall asleep watching the movie. I don’t want to think anymore.”

“If you use headphones,” Sebastian said, “sure. Go for it.” He put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. It helps me, too.”

Ben couldn’t have looked more shocked. “It does?”

“Yeah, it does. Hey. Everybody needs family.”

“And dogs,” Ben said.

“And dogs,” Sebastian agreed. “Dogs don’t talk at you. They’re just there. Dogs are the best. Even when they fart so disgustingly, they wake you up out of a really good dream.” And smiled.

How was I supposed to resist this man?