Wood appeared to be resting easier, and Trent was beyond pleased with himself. Damn, it felt good for someone to have to rely on him for a change. Ever since Bishop had found Edison, his brother no longer needed his help, not when the love of his life was more than willing to assist. Trent ran his hand along Wood’s coarse beard, cupping his cheek as he gazed down at him. And how long before you leave too? He wanted Wood up and feeling better and behaving like his old self again, but he couldn’t help but feel he wouldn’t be necessary anymore. Men like Wood got beat up by life all the time, but they never stayed down for long. He’d get what he needed from Trent… then he’d be tossed to the side when something better came along. Again.
Trent sighed, and that’s when he noticed Wood had opened his eyes and was staring drowsily at him. He gave him an encouraging smile he didn’t feel because that’s what Trent did. He faked it. He told everyone he was fine, he was okay, he just wanted to be left alone, because that’s what was easiest. Easier than getting attached and waking up to find them gone one day, vanished with no explanation as to what he’d done wrong. He tried to break the eye contact, but he couldn’t; he refused to turn away. As Otis sang to his heart about dreams to remember, Trent thought of the desires he’d had in prison of having something wonderful of his own one day. Visions of quiet days where he never got angry.
Trent didn’t move until Wood’s lids couldn’t stay open any longer and his breathing had evened out. After he closed the bedroom door, he braced his hand against the wall and stretched, trying to work out the painful knots. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket with a notification, and he was happy to see it was a text from Summer saying she was pulling into his driveway.
Trent opened the door, and his best friend rushed in with both arms loaded with Whole Foods grocery bags. She dropped them all on the dining table with a heavy thud, then shook out her arms.
Trent gaped at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I asked you to bring me a couple cans of soup, Summer. What is all this?” He dug inside one of the bags, his eyes widening. “I didn’t ask for rib eyes. Shit, I can’t pay for all this.”
She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist as he dug inside each bag. “Did I mention a word about paying? It sounded like you might be stuck indoors for a while, so I wanted to be sure you had what you needed. Can’t I do something nice for my friend? Is that okay?”
Trent let out a tired breath, but his smile was genuine. “Yeah, babe. Thanks, a lot. Some of this stuff in here I’m gonna have to ask Edison how to cook.”
“Maybe you and Wood can make something together.” She hummed, hugging him tighter.
Trent turned in her arms and gripped the bulky fabric of her winter parka, hugging her to him. “What am I gonna do with you, woman?” he whispered.
“Just love me.” She smiled.
“I already do.” Trent released her and leaned his ass against the table, feeling a wave of fatigue hit him. “You want some coffee?”
She jerked her head back in obvious surprise. “You hate coffee.”
“I know, but Wood drinks it, so I can make a pot if you want.” Trent shrugged, unable to stop his eyes from drifting down the hall to Wood’s bedroom door.
Summer’s cold fingertips gripped his chin and turned his head to face her. “How are you doing, little brother? Honestly.”
Trent shook his head sadly. “I’ve been better. But I owe you for covering for me. Really. I’ll be back to work soon, I promise.”
“Hey, I don’t give a damn about that ritzy hotel. I’m talking about you… and Wood.” Summer glanced behind her. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah.” Trent huffed. “He is now.”
Summer nodded, staring at him curiously. A few seconds passed before she stated, “There’s enough soup in there for a week, okay. And some other snacks that I know you like.”
“I see. Thanks, Summer.”
“All right, I wish I could stay and talk with you a while, I do. But I have to get to the site now,” she said, already walking toward the front door.
Trent glanced at his watch. She had a twenty-minute drive to get downtown, longer if she hit the morning rush-hour traffic. “Drive careful. Call me at lunch.”
“You know I will,” she said and kissed him on his cheek. She jogged down the walkway to her black Pathfinder, and he shivered in the early cold as he watched her safely back out and pull away.
Trent felt like he was in zombie mode as he put away their groceries and stiff-walked to his bedroom. He didn’t bother putting on another record; he had just enough energy to open his arms and dive face-first into the mattress.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Wood
Wood woke from a fitful sleep but feeling a lot better than he had the first time he’d come to. Only he didn’t see Trent anywhere. He was positive he hadn’t made all that up in his mind—the man had been there, touching his face and bathing his chest. That bluesy music, luring him into a peaceful slumber. It’d felt so good, and Wood had wanted to tell Trent that, but he’d struggled to speak. His mouth felt dryer than the Mohave, and his throat threatened to fracture each time he swallowed. Trent! His mind sought him out whether Wood spoke the words aloud or not. As if Wood needed him. Trent! No. What he needed to do was get his ass off that hard floor and pull himself together. He was done acting helpless.
Wood turned over, pain flaring in his stomach. He had to breathe through the surges of nausea as he worked his way to the side, scooting until his back was propped against the front of his dresser. The small distance had him sweating and breathing hard as if he’d just completed fifty push-ups. Wood had never felt like this in his life. Hit with the kind of pain that attacked him everywhere, the kind that shut down the limbs and senses. Wood shook his head, still unable to fathom what had truly happened the other day. He’d lost his family, his life’s work, his redemption, and his sobriety all within hours. Never once had it dawned on him when he walked out of that prison seven months ago that he’d fail so miserably. That he’d fall so low.
Wood reached up and gripped the top edge of the heavy dresser. One thing was for damn sure… he was getting the hell up. He grunted and strained as he got to his feet, his legs feeling as if they were no longer able to support him. He had to stand there a moment to gain his balance and work through the dizziness. Wood took a step toward the bed but had to hurry and catch himself, knocking over some of his toiletries in the process. It wasn’t five seconds later Trent exploded into his room, skidding to a halt on the pile of blankets when he saw Wood standing.
“What are you doing?” Trent rushed to his side and wrapped his arm around his waist to support him, but Wood heard him hiss in pain. “Come on, try to get in bed.”
“No,” Wood gritted out. He cleared his throat. “I need to stand.”
“Okay,” Trent agreed. “Okay, that’s good.”
Wood used the furniture around the room to help him take his few initial steps. He had so little energy it was embarrassing. If he fought a sixteen-year-old right now, the kid would probably give him a run for his money. He was holding on to the doorknob when stepped into the hall, and his left knee gave out. Wood knew he was going down, but Trent swooped under his arm just before he hit the floor. Though he could see Trent’s back was bothering him again, somehow Wood felt the safest he’d been in a long time. As if he knew Trent wouldn’t let him fall, he wouldn’t leave him alone, he wouldn’t desert him when he needed him the most. Somehow Wood had earned Trent’s trust, and his loyalty had quickly followed. And Bishop was right. Wood was beginning to feel pretty damn lucky about that.