Though he was trying to keep his voice even, the man’s startled look said he’d conveyed cold and pissed.
“We’re just trying to keep things moving along,” the man said in a placating voice. “Keeping the aisle clear. I was trying to help—”
“You can help by listening, and without putting your hands on me,” Rory said.
Daralyn’s eyes were wide, and she looked uncertain of the situation. His heart was hammering up in his ears, and he told himself to stay calm.
Something like this brought back those times when he’d been all but helpless. He’d projected that so obviously that often no one thought to ask if something was okay with him before they did it.
He wasn’t helpless anymore, and goddamn it, no matter what condition he was in, it pissed him off when people assumed this shit was okay. He was here with a woman, with friends.
“I…” The man’s color was high, and he was about to commit the mistake of being resentful, which could turn this ugly, unless Rory could call back the temper spiking hard in his chest.
But Daralyn was here, and fortunately Des’s words were fresh in his mind. Her well-being was the most important thing. Then Daralyn herself reminded him of it, in the best way possible.
“Where would you like me to sit, Rory?” She drew close to his side again, and rested her hand on his shoulder, fingers curling into the cotton of his shirt.
Yeah, the volatility of the situation unsettled her, but not as much as he’d expected. She didn’t acknowledge the man. Her gaze and attention were on Rory, waiting for his lead. That sole focus calmed him just the way it needed to do.
She moved with him, hand still on his shoulder, as he guided her to the back row. He settled her on the aluminum bench and then moved his chair behind her, where he could see and not block the aisle. It would also allow him easy egress if they decided not to stay for the whole concert.
The guy had trailed after them. A glance told Rory he was waffling on whether he’d been dismissed, or if he needed to offer a stiff apology. He also looked like he was warring with ill feeling at being treated like the bad guy. Rory quelled the urge to tell him to fuck off by considering the next person in a chair who might cross his path. He sighed and made eye contact with the guy, drawing him closer.
“It’s like being in a car,” Rory said. “You don’t take the wheel unless the driver invites you to do it. Sorry I got pissed, but if I need help, I’ll tell you. Same as any person who walked in here on two legs. Make sense?”
He made sure to show the man he was willing to be okay with it if he was. And added to it by extending a hand. “I’m Rory.”
The volunteer studied him, then gave a short nod, shook the hand. “Milton. Apologies, sir.”
“Accepted. Thanks for being willing to help.”
As Milton moved away, Daralyn remained quiet. She had her hands curled on the edge of the bleacher and was leaning forward, her spine straight as a hypotenuse.
When she straightened, he put a hand on her shoulder. She touched her chin to it, a quick nuzzle. He held that position, steadying himself.
“People make decisions for me a lot,” she said. Her tone was neutral. “I understand why it bothers you so much.”
He realized, like him, she had to find the balance between accepting people’s help, asking for it when it was needed, and helping them understand when it wasn’t. It was an ongoing thing. Plus she had the added challenge of not being able to clearly express it as a want or desire.
She had her head tilted, him in her peripheral vision as he stroked her cheek, the decorated curve of her ear. He let his hand come to a rest on the back of her neck, stroking under the neckline of the knit shirt she was wearing. A little sigh lifted and lowered her shoulders.
“But you…” she said quietly. “When you do it…it always feels right to me.”
He understood why Dr. Taylor needed to work with Daralyn about expressing her wants and needs. But for someone paying close enough attention—someone to whom her wants and needs mattered more than anything—her desires were as obvious as if she’d shouted them out loud, let them echo through the universe.