Love Him Desperate (On the Market #5) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,71

no care, no kindness.

“Can you get the fuck away from me?”

There was a beat, and the hand touched his neck, and Raphael tried to push him off, but his limbs felt like bricks. His fingers twitched, and his legs were left with tremors from the seizure forcing his body to tense every muscle.

“You’re speaking German, and I didn’t get that far, babe. Can you…”

“Lorenzo,” he said. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, forcing his hand up to drag the cloth over his forehead. “I want Lorenzo to take me home. Jayden,” he said, and he was fairly sure most of those words were in English.

“I…okay. Hang on,” Rian said. Then the sound of the door sliding—still too loud—left him in silence.

It didn’t take long for Jayden to come in, and he did a quick assessment of Raphael before leaning in and brushing a kiss to his temple. “He’ll be here soon, but Rian said he’s happy to take you home.”

“How long?” Raphael asked. His tongue felt heavy, and he was steps from sleep.

Jayden’s fingers were a little softer, but not soft enough as they brushed hair back from his forehead. “It was less than a minute long, and you’ve been sleeping about two hours.”

It wasn’t his first seizure at work and it wouldn’t be his last. He attempted to wriggle his foot, and there was some response, so he’d be able to get into his chair at least, and Lorenzo could get him home after that.

“Rian’s still here. He didn’t want to leave you,” Jayden murmured.

“Fuck him.” The words just came out with venom and anger, because he had no control, and it made him furious. His throat tensed like he was going to cry again because he had been robbed of the choice of when Rian got to see this part of him. And it wasn’t Rian’s fault, he knew that. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. He sniffed, and his cheeks felt wet, and Jayden brushed the tears back.

“Do you want me to send him home?”

“Yes,” Raphael said. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and when he came to a second time, the hands were better. Softer. Gentler. He curled toward them, leaning into the touch, letting one more sob escape.

“Aw, babe, look at you,” Lorenzo murmured.

“How bad?”

At that, his friend chuckled, a soft, careful noise as nails scraped his scalp. Lorenzo had somehow managed to wedge himself up on the massage table though he had to be nearly falling off, but Raphael’s head was pillowed in the crook of his arm, and he felt warm and safe.

“You’ve looked prettier, but I’d still date you.”

At that, Raphael winced. “Rian was here.”

“I know. He left after I showed up. I think he was jealous.” Lorenzo gently pulled away, then stood and pushed Raphael’s chair up against the table. With both hands, he eased him to sit, and the world swam, but only for a minute.

The recovery wouldn’t be as hard. The seizure had been short. He didn’t think he’d hit his head, and he’d been able to sleep a while after. The medication was working—just not fast enough for his own tastes, but then again, nothing ever did.

“I think I was an asshole,” Raphael said, grunting as he sat. His legs trembled too much to move, so Lorenzo knelt to adjust his feet into the rests.

“I don’t know if he gets it,” Lorenzo admitted as he handed Raphael sunglasses. When they were secure, he pushed out of the room, and the sun coming through the windows didn’t make him want to die. “I think if you explain it though, he might.”

Raphael wasn’t sure he was ready for that, but his head was still foggy, and he couldn’t seem to put together a complex sentence. It was easier to just sit in silence and let himself feel the ebb and flow of his emotions as they drove back to his place. His stomach felt queasy, and all he wanted in that moment was another long sleep and warm arms to hold him.

“How long can you stay?” he asked as Lorenzo pulled into his usual spot in front of his house.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes behind his shades. “You know I’m here as long as you need me, babe. Just sit tight and let me get your chair. Do you want to nest on the sofa or bed?”

“Sofa,” Raphael said, because in the end—when Lorenzo actually did leave him to feel all the rest of this on his own—it would be