Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Twenty-one

T rue to his word, Cutter woke Rye up regularly throughout the night to monitor for any sign of concussion or other side effects from the head injury. By three in the morning, Rye was convinced he was fine and simply wanted to get some sleep. He was going to suggest that to Cutter, but the truth was, Rye enjoyed having Cutter dote on him. He made a very sexy nurse, and knowing Cutter was right beside him on the bed was a source of comfort. Rye felt safe with Cutter, the exact opposite of how things were with Kristen.

As soon Rosie had hung up on her the night before, Kristen immediately called back. Rye let it go straight to voice mail. When she called two more times after that, he shut his phone off. He needed rest, not to be sucked back into her drama. He was sure when he turned the phone back on, there would be a slew of text messages and voice mails. None of which Rye wanted to deal with. No. He’d leave the phone off for a little bit longer.

Cutter stirred beside him and Rye rolled over to face him. “Morning.”

“What time is it?” Cutter sat up and looked at his watch.

“Just past seven,” Rye said. “And we’re off today, remember?” There was something to be said for a bye week late in the season. It meant everyone, from the coaches on down to the equipment staff, could enjoy a day off after the party. The team facilities weren’t even open, although the players had access if they wanted to work out. Rye didn’t. He intended to enjoy the day off.

“Right.” Cutter raked a hand through his hair, making it stand up on top. It only had the effect of making him more adorable. “How’s your head?”

“It’s okay,” Rye told him. “Doesn’t hurt at all.” He hadn’t looked at the cut, though, and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“We should take that bandage off and check underneath,” Cutter said.

Rye nodded, knowing he was right. “Whatever you say.”

“All right, get your pretty head over here, then.”

“Not so pretty anymore,” Rye said, but he sat up and moved closer to Cutter so he could remove the bandage. Thankfully, he did so gently, with Rye barely feeling it. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

Cutter chuckled. “You’ll be pretty again. It might just be an edgier sort of pretty.”

Rye wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he decided he liked the sound of it. “I can live with that,” he said. “It’s okay, then?”

“Yep. Looks good. You’ll want to keep the strips on there for another day or so, but in my not-so-expert opinion, it’s going to heal nicely,” Cutter said. “You’ll have to be careful when you shower that you don’t get it wet. No washing your hair today.”

“Got it.” The mentioning of showering, though, reminded him that he didn’t have any clothes other than the ones he had one the night before. He’d left his house in such a hurry he hadn’t thought about packing clothes. All Rye had cared about was getting out of there. “There’s a problem, though. I don’t have any clothes.”

“I thought of that, and you can borrow some of mine,” Cutter said. “They should fit you okay. I mean, you’re taller, so my pants might look funny, but you can wear shorts. It’s supposed to be warm today.”

“Benefits of living in Texas rather than Minnesota, I guess,” Rye said. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” Cutter swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “There are towels in the bathroom there. Soap, anything you should need,” he said. “I’ll leave you some clothes on the bed for when you get out.”

“Great.” Rye looked forward to getting out of last night’s clothes, regardless of what Cutter left him to wear.

“I’ll be in the kitchen making coffee,” Cutter said. “Try not to get your head wet. We’ll bandage you up again in a bit.”

He left the room, probably in search of clothes, and Rye went into the guest bathroom. It wasn’t fancy, but it was fully stocked with soap, shower gel, shampoo and plenty of towels. Since he couldn’t wash his hair or get his head wet, Rye was happy it wasn’t a rain head shower, and he was able to position his body so the stream of water hit him below his head. When he was done, he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist as he walked back into the bedroom.

In the time he’d been in the shower, Cutter had made the bed left a stack of clothes on top, neatly folded. There was a pair of boxer briefs, several shirts, and a pair of shorts. Rye put on the underwear and the shorts, which were elastic waist and fit him well, and selected the shirt that paired best with it. That left his feet. He’d have to ask his host what size shoe he wore, because all Rye had was the black dress shoes he'd worn the right before.

Barefoot, he made his way to the kitchen where Cutter was having a cup of coffee. He looked up when Rye walked in. “Are the clothes okay?”

“Fine,” Rye said. “What size shoe are you?”

“Oh, crap. I didn’t think about that. I’m a ten. You?”

“Ten and a half, so I should be able to your shoes.” They might hurt a bit, but he could get them on. They’d certainly do until he could get to a store, or back in his house without running into Kristen.

“I’ll find you a pair that run kind of big,” Cutter said. “Help yourself to coffee. I’m going to get cleaned up and find you some shoes.”

“Okay.” Rye picked up the coffee mug and poured himself a cup. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can dig through your fridge and see what you have and make some breakfast.”

“A sexy man cooking breakfast for me?” Cutter grinned. “Life doesn’t get much better.”

Rye laughed. “You don’t even know what I’m going to make yet. But thanks.”

~&~

After a quick shower, Cutter located a pair of athletic shoes and socks for Rye to wear and went to rejoin him in the kitchen. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the easy flirting they were engaging in, but it already felt natural to have Rye here. He also realized that was probably a dangerous way of thinking considering the circumstances that had brought Rye to his house. Still, Cutter intended to enjoy it for however long it might last.

“Shoes and socks,” he said, holding them up for Rye to see before putting them on the floor. He walked closer to the stove. “What are you making?”

“I found eggs, and little sausage. You’ve got cheese and tortillas,” Rye said. “I’m whipping up some breakfast tacos. Kind of my specialty.” Then he blushed, looking completely adorable. “I hope that’s not a mistake, given your family’s business.”

“Nope,” Cutter assured him. “It’s pretty hard to ruin a breakfast taco, and besides, that’s the sausage my mami uses in the tacos she makes for the business.”

“It looks delicious,” Rye said.

“It is.” Cutter poured himself another cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, watching Rye cook. “I’d offer to help,” he said, “but I’m enjoying the view too much.”

Rye chuckled. “I aim to please. And no worries. It’s almost ready, anyway.”

“Then I’ll get plates.” Cutter moved around him to the cabinet where he kept the plates, marveling at the easy rapport between them. He’d never lived with a boyfriend before, but he’d had some spend the night, and the morning after’s were never this casual or comfortable. Maybe it was because he and Rye had never slept together, but Cutter preferred to think there was something else at play. Like maybe this was the way it was supposed to be. They belonged together.

He cautioned himself not to get too caught up in that way of thinking. With everything going on in Rye’s life, Cutter understood the importance of moving slowly. Even if he didn’t want to.

“You’re quiet,” Rye observed while they ate. “The tacos aren’t that bad, are they?”

“What? No. They’re very good, actually.” Cutter noticed the grin on Rye’s face and realized he’d been joking. “It’s good to see you smiling.”

“It’s easy around you,” Rye said.

“Simple solution, then. Stay with me.”

“Right now, I think I kind of have to.”

It wasn’t completely true. He had plenty of options. They were both well aware of that. The fact that Rye had come here last night, when he could have gone anywhere, was not lost on Cutter. Rye wasn’t there out of desperation. He was there because he wanted to be.

“I need to get some things, though,” Rye continued. “Wearing your clothes isn’t a long-term solution.”

Cutter loved that he was thinking long-term. “Does that mean you’re going back to your house to pack stuff?” He knew it wasn’t something Rye could avoid forever.

His friend surprised him by shaking his head. “No. I’m not ready for that,” he said. “I’ll go shopping.”

“Sounds like a better idea.”

“Yeah.” Rye finished eating and took his plate to the sink. “I turned my phone back on. Kristen’s called ten times.”

Cutter wasn’t surprised. “She’s persistent.”

“I’m not answering, though,” Rye said. “I’m done. Last night was the final straw.”

“I’m glad.” Sure, Cutter wished Rye had reached that point sooner, and without sustaining a cut on his head, but there was no point in dwelling on that. What mattered was only that he was done now. He wasn’t going back to Kristen.

Cutter took own plate to the sink. “Let me wash my hands and I’ll put a new bandage on your head.”

“I can do it.”

“I know that, but I’m still doing it.”

“Whatever.” Rye sat back down, and Cutter pulled a chair opposite him so he could affix a fresh bandage to the wound.

“There,” Cutter said. “All set.” He didn’t move the chair back or stand, though. Instead, he leaned closer and brushed his lips across Rye’s.

Just as Rye responded, though, his phone rang and he jerked away. “Probably her again. I’ll turn it off.” As he glanced at the display, though, his face went pale.

“What? Who is it?” Cutter asked.

“The hospital. Seton Medical Center.”