Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 65(@200wpm)___ 52(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 65(@200wpm)___ 52(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Oh shit.
No. I refused to fall for Stu. He was a buddy who was hurt. That was all.
“I’m going to check on you later,” I said gruffly.
“You do that.” Stu glanced around before lowering his voice. “Kids are having dinner with their mom. I’ll be home alone with some ice packs.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go in?” I reached for my medical kit. “Or at least let me clean those scrapes?”
“I’m fine, Percy.”
“Percy?” Eric summoned me before I could push again, and by the time we had the kid and his wrenched knee situated on a gurney for transport, Stu had hobbled off the field under his own power. He’d signed a waiver for Tate, declining transport of his own, leaving me to rush to his doorstep the moment my shift ended.
“I’m fine,” Stu said in lieu of greeting me. He looked freshly showered, but the pink scrapes on his legs and one on his cheek made me want to hug him again. To stifle that urge, I held out the paper bag I’d brought. “What’s this?”
“Dinner.” I’d swung by our favorite Chinese place on my way to his house. “I figured you wouldn’t want to cook while juggling ice packs. Got that noodle dish you liked last time.”
“Thank you.” Stu’s expression softened as he ushered me into the living room. “I’ll return to said ice and the couch if you want to grab plates from the kitchen.”
I’d spent enough time here over the last month or so that I knew where he kept the plates and silverware. I fetched us each a beer, noting he now kept my favorite brand alongside his. Cozy. My stomach twisted again, suddenly none to sure about dinner.
When I returned to the living room, Stu had set the food on the coffee table before stretching out on his couch, ice packs on his ankle, knee, and ribs.
“You should have let us take you in,” I scolded as I dished up a plate of food for him. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“I’m not hurt.” Stu struggled to sit up, wincing again as he accepted the plate. “Maybe a little banged up. But I’m okay.”
“I’m going to check your ribs.” I glowered at him. “What if you cracked something?”
“I didn’t. I’m just old and creaky.” Stu submitted, allowing me to feel around his torso until he finally pushed me toward my plate of food. “Go eat, Percy.”
“Okay.” I stayed quiet while we ate, barely managing to choke down half of my usual portion.
“What’s wrong?” Stu asked at last.
I opened my mouth, fully prepared to make a joke, but what came out instead was, “You matter to me.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Stu blinked.
All I could do was shrug. I pursed my lips. My expression was likely sullen, but I couldn’t help it. This was a fucking crisis, and he couldn’t see it.
“Look. I get it.” Stu patted my jeans-covered knee. “Divorce sucks. Having your heart broken sucks. But discovering it might still work doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
“Says the eternal optimist.” I huffed. Stu had nailed it, as usual. I was upset to discover I cared about him and all that implied while he took my revelation in stride. “I’m not sure I’m ready for the risk of dating.”
“How exactly is dating different from what we’re already doing?” Stu’s tone was kind yet logical. “You might call it friends with benefits, but you care about my well-being. You’re over every night my kids aren’t here. You ask how my day went via text even if we don’t see each other. You send me dirty memes.”
“Oh God.” I sank back against the couch. “We’re dating. Fuck.”
“The horrors.” Stu rolled his eyes at me before abruptly setting aside his ice packs and standing. He grabbed our plates and gathered trash. His movements weren’t exactly upset, but they were far more efficient than I usually associated with Stu.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up in case the kids come back, and so I can show you the door.” He gestured toward the front door. “I like you, Percy. A lot. But I like—and respect—me more.”
“I didn’t mean I don’t want to date you. I don’t want to date anyone.” I tried to backpedal, but Stu shook his head mournfully.
“I know my limitations, but I also know my worth. I’ve enjoyed the last month more than I can say.”
“Me too,” I whispered.
“But not enough to date me.” Stu exhaled harshly. “If you want to run from this being something real and good, I won’t chase you.”
“Oh.” My jaw fell open, and I stumbled toward the door. I needed to say something quickly, but I had no clue what.
“Good night, Percy.” And with that, Stu shut the door on our evening, our future as friends with benefits, and on a piece of my heart.