“Hey, Talon?” Miller asks.
I sigh and climb out of bed, finding some boxer briefs and sweatpants to throw on.
Miller’s still scanning the contents of my fridge when I emerge. “Where’s all the good food?”
“You’re staring at it. I went shopping yesterday.”
“You went shopping? On Staten Island?”
“Okay, fine. I hired a guy to do it.”
“Who?”
I shrug. “There’s an app where basically you can get anyone to bring you anything.” I approach him and wrap my arm around his bare back. My lips land on his shoulder, and I love the way he melts into my side. “I got egg whites, kale, lots of protein. Superfoods for the win!”
Skeptical eyes meet my innocent ones … well, relatively innocent. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Not with my cooking, at least. I’m only letting you rest for half an hour before going to the gym.”
Miller groans, and unlike a few minutes ago in bed, it’s not a happy groan. It’s an I really don’t want to type of groan.
I saw the way he struggled yesterday during his PT session, but I’ve never known Miller to hate training. He’s one of the hardest workers I know. I’m usually the one pulling him away from a workout or practice to do stupid shit. So, seeing him so against training is disconcerting, but I tell myself it’s only because he’s had months of slacking off while recovering. I know how hard it is to get back into it after the off season. So much so I try not to let myself relax too hard.
“Your leg’s not gonna get better until you get off your ass,” I say.
“Well, thanks to you, my ass is currently wrecked. Can barely walk.”
“We’ll go light today, but we need to do something.”
“Sex counts as a workout.”
This isn’t working. “Okay, how about this: you give me two hours in the gym, I’ll let you have my ass tonight.”
I’ve never seen Miller move faster. Well, since his injury anyway.
* * *
“There. Done,” Miller pants. “Sex. Now.”
He’s on his back on the mats in the gym after a set of hand weights, and he can barely lift his arm to try to swat at my ass.
I laugh. “You sure you could handle it right now? You’re moving like a rookie with a hangover.”
“Nope. Can’t move. You’re gonna have to ride me right here.”
I think he’s joking, but I can’t be sure. “In the very public gym? Are you stroking out on me?”
He reaches for me, but I hesitate. I really want to climb on top of him, but even though no one’s come through the gym doors since we came down here two hours ago, we can’t risk it.
Those guys from the other day recognized us, and if they were to walk in again …
“Help me up, jackass,” Miller says.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought …” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
Miller raises a brow at me. “I’m not actually that dumb as to want to hook up in public.”
“Sorry. I know. I just—”
“You freaked out for a second. It’s okay. You have to be careful all the time, no matter what, but I’m not used to it yet, and I didn’t think. I was just goofing off.”
“It sucks even goofing off has lines drawn now.” My immediate thought at Miller’s joke was to freak out about being caught. It more than sucks. “You getting up?”
Miller doesn’t move. “Can’t. I live here now.”
I try not to let my concern show. Toward the end of the session, Miller finally perked up and became the annoyingly focused guy I’m used to him being in a weight room. But getting there … it’s like he’s not one hundred percent committed. He’s lagging and slow, and I understand he’s had months off, so his body’s weak, but I can’t help thinking if his mind is holding him back, not his body.
“We should go do something fun tonight,” I say.
Miller finally climbs to his feet. “I thought the plan I had was fun.” He winces. “But I’m gonna need the use of my arms for that, and I think they’re dead.”
“Maybe we could go hang out with Jackson and Noah?”
“I’ll message their friend Maddox too. He’s cool. He’s kinda the one who gave me the courage to FaceTime you that first time.”
“Ooh, so he’s awesome then? That’s risky, putting us both in the one room. The world might implode with that much awesome in the same place.”
“Mmhmm.” Miller grabs his towel and chugs some water and then heads for the door.
I still love the way he ignores my bullshit.
* * *
Going out turns out to be a good idea. Miller’s blah mood vanishes as soon as we enter the bar where we’re meeting Jackson and his friends. His mood lifts even further when I put a light beer in front of him.