Whisper by Kathleen Lash Read Free Book Online Page B

long since your last dose?”
    “Eight hours.”
    She noticed the set of his jaw and tightly closed eyes. The pain would have to be very bad to make 44

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    him look like that.
    “I’ll be right back.” She walked to the bathroom, filled a glass with cold water and returned.
    Obtaining two pills, she said “Here, I have it for you.”
    Keith’s hands trembled after taking the medication. It was hard to imagine a man that big and solid, shaking or getting broken. The children portrayed him as some larger than life, invincible hero.
    “Thank you.” He let out a heavy breath.
    “The leg hurts that bad?”
    “No. Head.” He sounded strange, almost drunk.
    Maybe she’d made a mistake giving him the medication. “Keith?”
    “Yeah?” Swollen eyelids surrounded red stained eyes. “Can you manage now?” He nodded and she stood. She’d been running around without her jeans and it was high time she slipped into them and got out of his room. He sat there taking and releasing deep breaths like moving would be too much of an effort. “Do you need help?”
    He barely shook his head. For Pete’s sake, the man was dead on his feet and in pain. She could, and should help. She didn’t need to wake Mark or Corey.
    She stepped closer and reached out. He looked dazed.
    “Its fine,” he slurred. “I’ll get there.” She grew more determined. He hadn’t moved to even situate himself more comfortably on the bed.
    Her fingers trembled when she got close and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you wear pajamas to bed?”
    He smiled. “No.”
    She kept unbuttoning. “What’s the smile for?”
    “Last set of PJ’s I wore had fire trucks on ‘em. I thought they were so cool.” He kept staring, which 45

    Kathleen Lash

    allowed her to believe a past memory made him smile, not the fact she’d started undressing him. A lot of misgivings slid away with the man thinking about kiddy PJ’s while she removed his clothes.
    Once the buttons were unfastened, she set the crutches beside the nightstand. She took the cuff of the shirt and gently pulled his arm free. He helped, but in the barest possible way. As she struggled getting the garment off, he said, “So damn good to be home.”
    “I can imagine.”
    “Worried about the kids finding out.” She folded the shirt and laid it on a chair in the room. “Do you sleep in a tee shirt?”
    “No.” He grasped the bottom of his before working it up. It fit like a second skin. She couldn’t stand by and watch. Helping him pull the black shirt over his head, he handed it over and his hands dropped to his thighs. Dozens upon dozens of scrapes and bruises covered his chest. She leaned in and glanced over his shoulder. His back held more of the same with a large bandage covering something.
    Fresh blood seeped from beneath and formed a trail to his jeans.
    “Something wrong back there?”
    “You’ve sprung a leak.”
    “No problem. Happens when I move.” Her hand was suddenly grasped and his breath touched her wrist. “Damn, you smell good. So does my bed.” Her heart skipped a beat as she eased away.
    “Sorry, keep scaring you,” he said, releasing her.
    “You smell like a mall woman.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Don’t beg, honey. I’m an easy sort of guy.” His mental focus didn’t seem too great, so she asked more bluntly. “What does a mall woman smell like?”
    He smiled and his eyes dropped more.
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    “Christmas. Shopping for the kids. That woman who gets too close and smells so good, like she just came from a shower. You know, some lucky bastard’s present. How the hell will I shop with this piece of shit on my leg?”
    “How did you drive home?”
    “Slow. The roads suck. Got here and couldn’t get out. She’d asked about his physical condition, not about how much snow had fallen. She kept up with his line of conversation however, and asked, “You couldn’t get out of your truck?”
    “No.”
    “Why? What happened?”
    “Too