Page 62 of The Way Home

“It was okay.”

Caleb frowned. “Just okay?”

“I don’t enjoy occupational therapy. The cognitive and physical are nice, though.” That earned him a smile, so he continued. “And the occupational is definitely helping. It just makes me feel dumb.”

“You are anything but dumb, J.” Caleb rinsed his hands in the sink and wiped them on a dishtowel. Jamie’s eyes tracked the movement. The veins in his forearms flexed and popped as he dried off his hands. For some reason, it made his mouth water and the ache in his chest intensify.

He hated the accident for many reasons, but today, he was angry at the storm of emotions he couldn’t seem to get under control. Annoyance over having to go to these appointments, frustration for not being able to read, and, let’s face it, horniness. He was horny asall fuck for the man standing at the counter, getting ready to go to the gym.

Andthatmade him irritated because Caleb didn’t seem horny for him back.

“Do you like the longer sessions still?” Caleb asked.

“I guess.”

Caleb turned, eyebrows pinching together. His eyes roamed to Jamie’s chest and back up, as if he could see the storm brewing inside him.

Jamie clenched his fists, feeling hot tears prickle behind his eyes. If Caleb asked him if he wasdizzyorfatigued,he’d probably throw a bloody hissy fit.

“J?” Caleb asked carefully. “Are you—?”

“I’mfine.”Jamie stood and rushed to the bedroom. “I’m just going to take a nap.” The door closed behind him before the first tear fell.

He stripped off his clothes and threw on a pair of boxers, slipping into bed. It was still light outside, but he was too exhausted to go close the curtains. There was no use picking up the book on his bedside table since it would just make his headache worse, and he couldn’t wank off to relax, since Caleb was in the next room.

So he closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Another tear fell, and he took a shaky breath to try to stop the tears.

Why couldn’t he get himself under control? He wasn’t even working right now. All he was expected to do was go to therapy and get better. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t an irritable, frustrated person. Ever. So why thehellcouldn’t he go back to being himself?

“J?” The door creaked open, and a concerned Caleb stepped into the room. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, bloody hell. I’mokay.”Jamie’s voice cracked, and a rush of tears carved hot streams down his cheeks. “I’m not dizzy. I’m not nauseous.” He squeezed his eyes shut. The foot of the bed dipped, and a pair of hands squeezed his shoulders.

“Hey, hey.” Caleb’s syrupy voice was right next to his ear. “J, it’s okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Everything,” Jamie squeaked. “And nothing. I feel—I just feel…”

Angry.

Out of control.

When he opened his eyes, Caleb’s eyebrows pinched together in a frown. “What do you need?”

Jamie wiped his face with the palm of his hand. “I…I—feel so out of control of my emotions all the fucking time.”

“Well, the doctors did say you may experience—”

“I’msickof doctors.”

Caleb’s eyebrows flew up. “Okay. What can I do, J? Maybe I could get you—”

“I don’t need anything butyou,Caleb.” Jamie’s face heated the moment the words slipped from his stupid mouth. It was true, though. Jamie didn’t want people fussing over him anymore. His body craved one thing: the man in front of him.

Caleb’s eyes grew, and he pulled his hands away from Jamie. “You mean like…?”

Jamie swallowed, cheeks heating even more. Caleb flexed his hands in his lap as his eyes trailed from Jamie’s cheeks to his bare chest.

Jamie’s whole body tingled with heat now as Caleb silently studied him. Maybe he was imagining things, but Caleb’s brown eyes seemed to darken in the dim light of their bedroom.