Page 46 of Wild Card

If I’m anything, it’s hard on myself.

I stand back and eye him carefully before sliding one extra pillow under his knees to take any extra pressure off his lower back.

“Oh, yup. That’s better, I think.” Clyde’s tired eyes flutter shut, and he sinks back. He may be dramatic sometimes, but I can see the tension that comes with pain and exhaustion on his features. His already weather-worn skin looks more deeply lined than usual, though the color seems to have improved in a matter of only five days.

“It’s a miracle I’ve survived this many days post-surgery without someone propping me up with every pillow in this house.”

I turn back slowly to face Bash, who clearly just can’t help himself.

“Do you want me to come upstairs and get you settled as well? If you keep this attitude up, I can hold a pillow down over your face to make it stop.”

Bash swallows roughly while continuing to glare at me but says nothing.

“Careful,” Clyde interjects with a raspy cackle, “some people are into that kind of shit.”

Bash’s cheeks heat as he watches us impassively, otherwise completely unfazed. “We’re gonna need to lay out some ground rules for this arrangement. Because I’m already annoyed by you two.”

“That’s a compliment coming from him,” Clyde whispers conspiratorially as he leans toward me.

I try not to laugh, because Bash looks serious as a heart attack when he begins to speak again. “I know this arrangement is best for everyone, so I’m tolerating it. I wouldn’t change it, but I don’t love it. This isn’t some happy-family dynamic. We’re roommates. You do your thing. I’ll do mine.”

I do my best to nod seriously, but Bash is downright sexy. It makes me want to needle him just so he’ll crack a smile.

I lean toward Clyde with a stage-whisper loud enough that Bash can hear. “He reminds me of Oscar the Grouch sometimes.” Then I turn back to face Bash, wanting to reassure him that I understand. “I love how honest you’re being with us about your expectations and what you need. Clear communication will make sharing the space easier for everyone.”

Clyde nods solemnly. “Bash, we understand. This is your trash can, and we’re just living in it.”

Bash’s jaw twitches. “The two of you are really annoying together. Do you know that?”

I flash him my brightest grin. “Just think of us as the two annoying kids you never wanted.”

“Oh, pfft,” Clyde scoffs, landing a playful slap on my arm. “Ain’t no way Bash is thinking about you like a kid.”

Bash groans, and before I can even lift my eyes back his way, he’s turned and left the room.

“Clyde, you really gotta ease off on him with that.”

The man turns to me with a blank expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My head tilts, and I prop my hands on my hips. “Stop playing, silly fucker.”

“He likes it.”

“I don’t think he does.”

Clyde drops the pretense with an annoyed grumble as he reaches for the book I unpacked and placed on the bedside table for him. It’s a compilation of firsthand accounts of alien abduction and, hilariously, exactly the type of literature I’d expect Clyde to consume.

“Well, then he needs it.”

“What?”

He doesn’t look up—just opens the book as he responds with, “Something that makes him happy.”

My brows furrow. “Which is what?”

Now it’s Clyde’s turn to hit me with a head tilt. “Gwen, stop playing, silly fucker.”

Once Clyde drifted off for an afternoon nap, I made my way out to the grocery store, using the card he gave me to purchase each item on the list he also provided. Of course, I accidentally forgot some of the less healthy items and replaced them with more nutritious options.