The moment the sound left his lips, Roman was there, hovering over him. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the nurse?”
Brett blinked, trying to make Roman’s words make sense. He looked harder at his surroundings. There was an IV nearby. Fuck. He was in the hospital. “Is my foot still attached?”
At his croaked question, a smile exploded across Roman’s face. “Yeah. It’s still there, but you might wish it wasn’t for a couple of months. It’s got some new hardware. Pins and screws. Good luck getting through airport security from now on. Your nurse said if you wake up hurting to let her know. She can bring you the good stuff.”
Brett glanced around, still trying to get his bearings. “Can you lift this bed or something? I’m feeling disoriented.”
Roman quickly moved to help. He pushed the button, easing the head of the bed upward.
“That’s good,” Brett gasped when all his injuries made themselves known. He could feel his pulse pounding in several places. His face and entire left side felt like a baseball bat had enjoyed its game, using him as the ball. He tried focusing on Roman instead of his pain. Roman wore scrubs. That caught Brett’s attention. “Why are you in scrubs?”
“You bled all over my clothes,” Roman answered, sounding absent as he grabbed a cup of ice water and offered Brett a drink. While Brett gratefully sipped, Roman kept talking. “Your car is obviously totaled, and you’ve been out of it for close to thirty-six hours. All my things are at your place, so a guy on the night shift let me borrow some clothes.”
Guilt washed over Brett. “Jesus. I’m so sorry. Wait. Thirty-six hours? We missed the wedding and I ruined your trip.”
Roman rolled his eyes. “You did not ruin my trip. Some asshole running from the cops ruined our weekend.” A sexy smirk touched his lips. “I hate that you’re hurt, but I kind of like having you at my mercy.”
It was Brett’s turn to roll his eyes. Now that he was somewhat lucid, he tried taking stock. He eyed his body. There was a thick bandage covering his left foot and ankle, stopping him from seeing the damage. Considering the rest of his left leg was completely black, he didn’t think he needed to see. The way his face hurt left him with a bad feeling it looked the same as his leg. This put a definite damper on his upcoming schedule. A million and one things he had planned raced through his mind at once. Thirty-six hours in the hospital meant he was a day and a half behind on work. Defeat washed over him.
“Don’t look like that. I’m here. Put me to work. I’ll help you do whatever needs to be done.”
Brett’s gaze swung back Roman’s way. He swore sometimes the man could read his mind. A small bruise on the outside corner of Roman’s eye caught Brett’s attention. His heart raced with a sudden burst of fear. He found himself inspecting Roman, looking for more injuries. “How are you, by the way? Did you get hurt? Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” Roman sounded calm and steady. “Seeing you get hurt took ten years off my life that I couldn’t spare, but I’m fine.”
Brett’s heart rate slowed. As his panic ebbed, the guilt skyrocketed. “Let me hire a car to take you back to my place. In fact, I’ll cover a first-class ticket so you can head home and I’ll pay you the fee we originally discussed. Obviously, I never meant for this to happen, and I’m incredibly sorry.”
The longer Brett spoke, the harder Roman’s expression got, until Brett trailed off. The moment he went silent, Roman stepped in. “If you’re through, this is what we’re doing. You’ll make me a list of what you need from the house and what work you need done. I’ll go take care of everything on the list. Your doctor will tell you when you can go home and your limitations. Then I’ll go home with you and make sure you stick to his orders. So you can stop apologizing because that’s just ridiculous.”
Brett was in pain. His head spun and he didn’t feel good in any sense of the word. The strength it would take to argue wasn’t there and probably wouldn’t be for a while. The least he could do was make sure Roman was cared for. “Did my phone survive?”
With a snort and a shake of his head, Roman crossed the room, grabbed Brett’s phone, and passed it his way. Brett didn’t have much battery left and his screen was cracked, but he accomplished his task.
While staring at the phone and clicking around, Brett gave in as gracefully as he could. “If you’re determined to do this, I could really use some pain meds, because I’m pretty sure I’m dying. Also, I’m sending you a list via text of things I need.” He clicked send and focused on Roman. “I just ordered an Uber for you. When you get to the house, type three seven six on the keypad and that will unlock the door. In the cabinet closest to the doorway in the kitchen, there are keys to my cars. Pick one to use while you’re here. There’s a black card in my wallet. Get it. You can use that to buy whatever you need.” If Roman had looked triumphant, Brett might have stopped and saved his pride. Instead, Roman stood there looking ready to jump in and Brett felt... something. “Thank you for everything.”
Roman nodded. “We’re friends. You would do the same for me.”
Brett didn’t know if that was true. Honestly, he wasn’t sure anymore what friendship felt like. It had been a long time since anyone had anything to do with him where they weren’t also wanting something from him. Maybe that was a street that went both ways. Brett also didn’t bother with anyone he wasn’t working with to further their careers. It was possible he didn’t know how to be anyone’s friend. Roman didn’t look at him like a friend. In fact, he watched Brett in a way that didn’t feel friendly in the least. He didn’t know what he felt with Roman around. For whatever reason, though, he didn’t want it to stop. So he would let Roman help. Maybe he would regret it. Maybe he wouldn’t. Only time would tell. At the end of the day, if Roman turned out to be like everyone else, it wouldn’t be the first time anyone had used him, and likely wouldn’t be the last. At least Roman was here now. That was more than he could say about anyone else.
Brett owned a black Range Rover that looked like it needed driving. Between Brett’s list and a much-needed shower, things were taking longer than Roman liked. Every time he thought about Brett’s seemingly lifeless body in his arms while first responders worked to free him from the car, Roman’s stomach started shaking all over again. He needed to get back to Brett. Roman had to admit that snooping through Brett’s room—looking for everything on his list—had been fun... and informative.
Brett didn’t own any nude magazines or visible porn. His room was a clean mess. Like there weren’t any dirty clothes or any trash strewn about, but nothing was folded in his drawers, his bed was unmade, and his closet was a disaster area. The rest of the house was meticulous, giving Roman the impression Brett had a housekeeper, but it seemed he didn’t allow them inside his bedroom. Roman wondered if anyone besides Brett was ever inside Brett’s room. Judging by Brett’s bedside table, he had the means to please himself. Roman kept smiling at the stash of toys Brett kept. That was definitely one detail Roman could use to add to his already vivid fantasies of Brett.