“What happened?” he asked.

“You had a dream,” I told him, keeping my voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry through the house because I doubted he wanted his parents to see him this way. “I walked past your room and heard you.”

Drew looked embarrassed. That was stupid, because the man had nothing to be ashamed of. I was trying to keep from going to sleep myself, because I knew damn well the images from last night were going to haunt me as well. They already had the two times I’d tried to turn off my brain.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling the covers up under his chin. “God, I need a shower. I feel like hell.”

“Can you manage on your own?” It wasn’t as if seeing a naked man was all that unusual. Athletes quickly lost any sense of modesty when they were serious about sports. It was part of why most of us tried to keep it under wraps that we were gay. We didn’t use the locker room as a way to perv on our buddies or anything, but that didn’t mean the straight guys wouldn’t be uncomfortable if they knew. In my mind, it seemed even worse to not tell them, because that made it seem as if there was something wrong with us.

Drew pushed off the mattress and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He got about halfway to a standing position before falling back to the bed. “Fuck, this sucks.”

He tried again and I fisted my hands into the sheets to keep from rushing to his aid. I could only imagine how helpless he felt after having his mother all but threatening to strap him to the bed if he didn’t stay there. She didn’t understand that he’d never get better if he just laid around all day. It was going to hurt like a bitch, but he needed to be up and moving around so his body didn’t stiffen even further. After a second failed attempt, I walked around to his side of the bed and offered him my arm for support.

“Hey, you’re going to be fine,” I assured him. “Needing a little help for a few days won’t kill you.”

“It might,” he grumbled. The half bath across the hall from his room was barely big enough for the two of us, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by suggesting we go to my room with the full bath and larger walk-in shower.

“It only seems like that,” I chided. I waited until he was leaning against the vanity and eased my way past him to turn on the water. The only blessing about this bathroom was that the shower was the walk in kind rather than a tub and shower combo. “Come on, let’s get that hospital funk cleaned off of you.”

“Yeah, because that’s the worst of it.” I’d heard that Drew was a moody bastard, but until now I hadn’t experienced it for myself. I pretended to not hear his comment and held my hand under the stream of water to make sure it was warm enough.

Drew fumbled with the hem of his T-shirt, trying to pull it up without moving too much. Every time he moved, his face contorted, betraying how much pain he had to still be in.

Rather than worry about getting him a towel, or even how he was going to manage to stay upright in the shower, I reached for the cotton and slowly pulled it over his head. He tensed when the backs of my fingers grazed the bruises on his side. “Hey, you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he affirmed. I eased the shirt over his head and allowed him to pull it down his arm and drop it to the floor.

Luckily, it was easier for him to shimmy out of his sweatpants, because I was quickly realizing that this was nothing like being in the locker room. I’d never had an issue looking at another man and remembering he was off-limits, but that was hard with Drew. We’d spent much of the week I’d been home hanging out when he wasn’t at the club, and I’d grown to care about him. Not in some gushy, romantic, chick flick way, but he was someone I hoped to get to know better over the winter. We hadn’t talked much, but that was because we both knew the other wasn’t up for that. I didn’t have to worry about him striking up a conversation to simply fill the dead air, and I knew better than to try and get his mind off worrying about the next game.

I knew Drew had a lot of shit swirling through his head. As much as he tried to pretend he wasn’t upset by Cam and Jason’s relationship, I knew it was hard on him. I knew better than he could possibly realize, although I hadn’t found a way to share that with him. It seemed like a betrayal for me to share my own story without Sean’s knowledge since it involved him as well.

Sean and I had been best friends back when I was still with the Mavericks. It started as roommates and someone to hang out with on days off but eventually morphed into something more. I knew he never saw it as anything other than a safe way for the two of us to release the sexual tension from building up to the point where we did something foolish, but that wasn’t what it was to me. As the months dragged on and one season turned into two and then three, I began to feel something for him. Something he’d made it abundantly clear he didn’t want.

Without realizing how uncomfortable I was becoming, Drew allowed his pants and briefs to fall to the floor. It seemed he had no issues being naked around other people as he made no move to shield or cover himself. He stepped away from the vanity with one shaky step and reached back for support. “Fuck, is everything on me fucked up?”

Yeah, it was, but I wasn’t about to say that. While the attacker hadn’t done any real damage to Drew’s leg, his knee was bruised and swollen. His entire torso was a kaleidoscope of color that was only going to get worse over the next few days.

Drew tried again to take the four steps from the sink to the shower, this time making it to the door before having to reach out to the wall. It quickly became apparent a shower was not going to happen.

“Fuck, this is embarrassing.” Drew leaned against the wall and hung his head while I tried to keep my eyes from wandering to the perfect bubble of his ass or his lightly furred thighs. Drew turned his head to look at me and I quickly averted my eyes to every inane detail of my bathroom walls. “I can’t even take a fucking shower by myself. Twenty-five fucking years old and I’m totally helpless.”

Two things about that statement struck me in the gut. First, was the obvious pain and humiliation Drew felt. Whether or not it was logical, I understood what he was feeling. Second, I felt like an asshole for checking out a guy over ten years my junior. In six weeks, I’d be thirty-six. Not an old man by any stretch, but ancient in our world. And way too old to be sporting wood over someone his age.

“Give it time,” I said, knowing I was going to regret what I was about to do. I grabbed the hem of my own shirt and started stripping to my shorts. It wasn’t ideal, but they were dark and I could pretend I was wearing swim trunks. “I’ll help you and then we’ll get you back into bed.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Drew insisted.

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked drily. “If you’d rather, I can run upstairs and let your mom know that you need a sponge bath.”

It was a shitty move to threaten him with his mother, but it did the trick. I saw the moment Drew conceded defeat as his shoulders slumped forward and his head hung even lower to his chest. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” I chuckled as I pulled two towels out of the cabinet and set them on the edge of the vanity. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up a bit and back to your room before the warden realizes you’ve escaped.”

That had the intended effect, and Drew huffed a silent laugh. It wasn’t much, but I’d take whatever I could get if it got him out of his own head for a few minutes.

I eased Drew into the shower and pulled the door closed behind us. He still fought the urge to tell me to get the fuck out of there and let him do this on his own, but he stood there stiff as a board as I reached around him for a washcloth and the bar of soap in the holder.