Page 97 of Protector

“Frey and Rex?”

“All fine. He said they’re scared still, but recovering.”

“Scared of me?” Oz asked.

The vulnerability in his tone made Ridge open his eyes again. “No. No, sweetheart. Terrified that you’re never going tospeak to them again. Frey told Adele something about the first time Rex hurt you?—”

“Oh God,” Oz said, slapping his hand over his face before wincing and dropping it back down. “That was so not his fault. That was the time Rex had vertigo and cracked his head open. Some asshole nurses thought I hurt him and called the cops on me. And the cops tried to arrest me because I wasn’t answering their questions. I wasn’t wearing my processors then, and there was no interpreter around.”

Ridge knew that story. At least, he knew parts of that story. He could only imagine what Oz had felt during all of that. “When Renato almost got arrested?”

Oz laughed. “Yeah. I guess that was before your time.” He stopped and sighed. “I think I should talk to Frey soon if he’s blaming himself for all this.”

Ridge yawned, unable to stop himself, and he rolled toward Oz. “You should. And I’m there for you. But I’m also kind of falling asleep.”

Oz leaned his head down and nosed along Ridge’s crown. “I might get up to piss, but I’m not ready to do any more emotional labor today. It can wait. And you can rest.”

Ridge took those words to heart, and in two blinks, he succumbed to the darkness that had been tugging at his edges.

CHAPTER TWENTY

OZ

He slepton and off but nowhere near as solid as Ridge was. If he hadn’t been wearing his processors, he would have felt the rumble of the man’s snores they were so loud. It was like someone had hit the Off button on him, and Oz was jealous because he could never, ever fall asleep that fast.

It was also a mark of how tired Ridge must have been because when Oz slipped out of the bed, he didn’t stir. Normally, he sat up the second Oz’s breathing changed. He fought off a wave of guilt for being the reason Ridge was like this.

But that was relationships, he supposed. It wasn’t just good dates and bad ones. It was all the complications in between. It was rolling over to show off a tender underbelly and trust that your partner wasn’t going to stab you there.

That was harder for Oz, considering everything. He’d trusted his parents until they made it clear they never had his best interests at heart. He’d trusted Darcy until he realized she was manipulating him to get the life she wanted, what he needed be damned. And for so long, he’d believed he’d failed her. But now he realized that was part of her emotional torment. She’d wanted him to feel that way so he’d always come crawling back.

He had a lot to work through, but he was determined to do it.

His original plan had been to get through therapy before he and Ridge made it official, but he supposed that near-death experiences tended to put a wrench in normal, everyday relationship plans. Now, he just had to hope that Ridge would be patient with him.

Oz didn’t know how to put himself first. He didn’t know how to prioritize not only what he needed but what he wanted without feeling like a selfish monster. And he didn’t quite know how to let Ridge spoil him the way the man wanted to.

That would be the hardest part of all. Accepting it. Accepting that he deserved it.

But he was going to do his best. Ridge deserved that at the very least.

Slipping away from the bed, Oz headed into the guest bathroom in hopes that Ridge would sleep a little longer. He emptied his bladder, then attempted to wash his unbound hand, which was tricker than he expected.

When he was done, he chanced a look in the mirror and grimaced. He had a sizable bruise forming on the right side of his jaw and a little scrape right above it. He could already feel the twinge of the road rash under his shirt, and he realized he was still wearing his filthy clothes.

Oh God, he’d climbed into Ridge’s bed all dirty from the street?

He shuddered and wandered into the kitchen in search of water. As he passed the counter, he saw a small collection of paperwork and two pill bottles. His memory of the hospital was foggy from both the shock and the drugs, but he vaguely recalled Ridge swinging him by the pharmacy before heading out to get his car.

He toyed with the tops of the bottles. He was in a decent amount of pain, and it all seemed to be flowing from the top ofhis head down to the soles of his feet. Like he’d been hit by a bus.

Or a car, as it were.

“Hey, baby.”

Oz turned at the sound of the sleep-roughened voice of his boyfriend. God, that word made him shiver. Ridge was leaning against the archway, looking rumpled and soft and sweet.

“I was trying not to wake you.”