Page 72 of Should the Sky Fall

“I’m not busy now,” he says, irritation spiking in his veins. Is he good for anything but his job? The job he apparently doesn’t even like?

“Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll show you.”

He follows Dawson to the second bathroom. There’s a basket of light-colored clothing on top of the washing machine. Dawson pops it down on the floor, opens the round door of the machine and loads it with the clothes. “So, I already washed colors this week. These are whites, grays…anything that won’t run and ruin other stuff.”

Dawson stands up and pulls open a little drawer in the top left corner of the machine. “So, this is normally for the detergent and the fabric softener, but lucky for you—” He grins, reaching for a square paper box in the back. “There are these magic things that already contain all you need and you can just pop one in with the clothes.”

As he throws it into the machine, he notices Cal’s confused look and chuckles. “Looks weird, I know. But they’re super eco-friendly and you need just one thing for everything.” His gaze drops to Cal’s shirt. “If you…uh, if you wanna take that off, we can just pop it in now.”

Right. The shirt he ruined.

He starts pulling it up, sucking in a breath. A sharp sting reminds him why he needed Dawson’s help this morning.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Forgot to move slowly.”

Dawson looks conflicted, his eyes roaming over Cal. “Let me.” He steps into Cal’s space, reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt. “Just raise your arms as far as it’s comfortable.”

Cal raises his arms to shoulder height before the stitches make themselves known. Jaw tight and gaze locked on Cal’s chest, Dawson pulls the shirt up, slowly, carefully. His knuckles graze Cal’s sides and chest, making his breath hitch. The soft touch makes him shiver, and it’s not from pain. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. Probably. Who knows with his memory wiped.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Dawson mumbles, averting his gaze. He throws the shirt in with the rest of the clothes before shutting the door with an audible click. “Ready to continue?”

“Sorry?” Continue with what? Doesn’t he just press a button now? He recognizes the play/pause icon. That must be the one.

Dawson laughs like he can read his mind and pats a weird-looking silver knob. “It’s not that hard. Yeah, there are a few settings that can turn your head, but if in doubt, you can use the standard one. This—” He points at the setting calleddaily wash, “Is your go-to if you’re not sure. Everything is already set. You can use it pretty much on anything, and, unless something is super dirty, it will do the job. And if you press this button, it will preserve water too.”

Okay. That’s not too bad. Feeling brave, he asks, “And if I want to do it the hard way?”

Dawson flashes him a proud grin. “Well, all the settings have a name. And if that’s not always clear, this little bar will tell you how hot the water will be and how long the cycle will run for. I generally use hot water for towels and sheets.”

“So, which one will you use now?”

“Most of the clothes in there are mine. Some of it I wore to the shelter or for a run, so I’ll just do the daily wash.” He turns the knob. “Makes sense?”

Cal nods, even though it all looks a little dreadful. “Yes.” He looks at the machine. “Is it on now?”

“Ah.” Dawson presses the big button Cal was eyeing earlier. “Don’t forget to press that one.” The machine whirrs to life, hissing and rumbling. “But you really don’t need to know this. I can take care of it.”

“I want to,” Cal says firmly. “It’s not fair that you do all this.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

Dawson’s lips part, then twitch. “Yeah, okay. Gosh, you’re stubborn.”

“Yes,” Cal says, utterly unapologetic. “Shall I shower now?”

“Yeah, if you want to. But not here. All our stuff is in the en-suite bathroom. You go ahead. I’ll bring you some clothes for the night.

Cal almost protests that he can do it, but he’s forced to admit that he does enjoy Dawson taking care of him. Not exactly something he’s proud of, but he can’t deny it. He hopes Dawson will allow him to do the same.

The bathroom is smaller but nicer than the other one, the counter and sink littered with various products, and there’s a huge mirror above it. It’s impossible to avoid his reflection, but Cal’s been practicing as Carrie asked him. And while the sight of himself doesn’t bring any fond feelings to the surface, he no longer has an inclination to punch himself. Much.

Dawson appears in the mirror next to him.