27. Ciaran

27

CIARAN

W hen I next saw Matty, it was Friday afternoon and he was soaking in the hot tub in the veranda of the main house. When I approached, he was staring into the distance like a man contemplating the rest of his life.

When he saw me, he startled. Shirtless, he'd been massaging his shoulder.

"Is the chip on your shoulder getting heavier?" I asked by way of greeting.

The corner of Matty's mouth quirked into a quick smile and I was momentarily speechless. "You could say that. How's the week been for you?"

"I completed all schoolwork early, so in my free time I started a sports betting company and formed an indoor fighting ring with the Vaulteneau servants," I joked. "Miss Paulina, whom I've yet to meet, is savage. I understand now why she's lasted this long."

"What are Franky's odds?" Matty asked.

I checked my imaginary notepad and sighed mournfully. "Twenty to one."

"Ouch," Matty said, his eyes glinting with mirth.

I noticed the roll of black KT Tape on the edge of the hot tub. With several ripped-up strips, it appeared he'd tried to apply the strips himself. Given the angle, he'd never be able to pull the sports therapeutic material taut enough to make it effective.

I stepped closer to the hot tub. From this viewpoint you could look straight inside the main house and into a large living room with comfortable couches, an unlit fireplace, domed archways, and crisscrossed dark wood ceiling beams that added dimensional depth.

"You can say no , but…" I stalled. "Would you like assistance with the KT Tape? I imagine it's difficult to apply it single-handedly, especially around the shoulder."

I don't know why I was nervous, but my chest started pounding.

Matty shook his head more vigorously than the situation called for. "I'm good, Ciaran, but thanks."

I picked up the roll. It was the high-strength water-resistant version popular with swimmers and surfers.

"It's not a big deal," I added. "I helped my mom when she tweaked her knee during a ballet workout. You won't even need to move. All we'd need to do is dry your shoulder and you have a towel right there." I pointed to the small table within arm's reach of the hot tub.

Matty twisted in the hot tub and tried to snatch the roll from my hands. His aim was off, but it was enough of a surprise to make me jump back and drop the roll in the bubbling hot water with a deafening plop.

We both scrambled to save it from ruination. Matty was closer, and therefore quicker. It almost became a competition because when he pushed himself to the other side of the hot tub to face me, his hand shot up in a victory move.

"Shit," he hissed, yanking his arm back down.

I'd laugh if the action hadn't caused him pain.

"Celebrate all you want, Matty," I said, using the crisp white towel to dry my arms, "but maybe don't injure yourself in the process. I'm helping whether you like it or not, so be still, you putz."

He groaned but didn't tell me to go to hell, so that felt like progress. I brought the towel with me as I rounded the hot tub. Given how he slouched in his seat, the water came to Matty's ears.

"Sit up a little bit," I said and Matty complied, jerking upward, which caused water to splash over the edge, drenching my shoes, shorts, and the bottom half of my shirt. "Maybe not so forcefully next time."

Matty laughed. Standing behind him, I dabbed the towel around his neck, shoulders, and the upper part of his chest and bicep. He was clenching his jaw.

I stopped and asked, "Does this hurt?"

"No," he breathed out. "It hurts when I lift it."

An epiphany hit me. "Can I manipulate your arm, like a sports therapist? I want to see where in the range of motion the pain flares up. I'll be gentle, I promise."

"Making promises now, Ciaran?" Matty asked.

I smiled even though he couldn't see it. "Only in that I'll be gentle, not that it won't hurt you."

Matty snorted, which I took to mean he was okay with me moving his arm like a marionette.

With a firm, steady grip, I took his elbow and guided the movement of his shoulder up and down, then side to side.

"Don't fight it, Matty. You're pushing against me."

He snickered. "That's a euphemism if I've ever heard one."

"Yes, I get it." The back of my neck felt hot. "You're a sex god and you have a beautiful girlfriend, Matty." I leaned down. Near his ear, I added, "How about this, go limp and relax."

"Fine." His mouth twitched though I could tell he wanted to argue with me.

With my other hand, I cupped the injured shoulder to feel the muscles move beneath my palm.

The private solitude on the veranda came upon me then. It was just me and Matty.

Along with the bubbling sounds coming from the hot tub, birds chirped in the trees, and the soft breeze wafted the scent of wildflowers into the yard. In the distance, the soothing cadence of ocean waves created a secluded cocoon. Though that didn't mean someone from within the house couldn't see us.

I kept a close eye on his facial expressions. I watched his breathing, the way he'd suck in a breath now and again, or how I'd hear a low hiss.

When the grimace began, I'd reverse movement or guide his arm in a different direction, either straight out or across his chest.

I wanted to save the overhead part until the end since I knew that'd be the worst of it. With the gentlest of movements, I lifted his arm in tiny increments and made a mental note when pain spread across his face, reversing course when it happened. There was no point in extending the arm higher as that would only cause significantly more pain without any benefit.

I only needed to know where in the range of motion the pain began.

"Sorry," I whispered when I did the same movement but from a slightly different angle. "All right," I said, my voice almost breathless, as I guided his arm back down into the water. "Can I place light pressure in and around the shoulder? Same promise as before."

"Okay," Matty said. His eyes were shut tight and I worried I was making things worse. I smoothed a hand over the outer bicep, over his shoulder, to the back of his neck. I mirrored the action on his good, non-injured side. "Why are you doing that?" Matty asked.

There was no mistaking the dreamy quality to his voice. His chest expanded with each breath.

My hope was he was relaxed enough to not tense up his muscles.

Did I like touching him? Yes.

But this was medical. Scientific.

Or at least that's what I told myself.

"To feel for swelling in your shoulders."

"Oh."

"Does it hurt?" I asked again.

Leaning over, but still behind him, I placed both hands flat against the upper part of his muscular chest, my fingertips brushing against the dark smattering of his chest hair. Applying soft pressure, I pressed into the muscle. I glided upward, over the collarbone, then outward over the pecs where they met the shoulders, in one fluid motion. From there, I traced around the deltoids, over the top of his shoulders, and all the way to where his shoulder blades met.

"Define hurt ?" Matty asked after letting out a very long breath. His head relaxed back against the edge of the hot tub in an almost open invitation for me to keep touching him.

"Am I causing pain?" I clarified as my fingers lightly probed both shoulders. His injured shoulder was definitely inflamed and swollen.

Positioned like we were, it felt safe to study Matty's face with his head back and his eyes closed. I wanted to smooth down his thick eyebrows, and his eyelashes were noteworthy for being long and dark, which highlighted the tired lines under his eyes. Several days' worth of growth coated his jaw. It made him look older than twenty-one.

"No, you are not causing pain, Ciaran."

But Matty was affected. Something like victory swelled in my chest. Matty was reacting to me. Reacting to my touch.

My mind went in a carnal direction. I wanted to say something like, Can I probe another muscle? or, Anything else need attention? I didn't have much experience but I was sure I could fumble my way through it.

But I didn't want to ruin the moment.

A second later, though, the outside world intruded when Matty's phone started buzzing frantically. He sat forward, breaking contact, which gave me the perfect opportunity to actually apply the KT Tape.

Matty cleared his throat before he said, "The team will be here shortly. They're at the gate now."

I made quick work of drying his shoulder. I collected the KT Tape, ripping off several pieces, and strategically placed them on either side of his deltoid, with the length of it ending at the bicep. I placed another long strip from the middle part of his trapezoid down to the flat of his shoulder blade.

"Do you mean your swim team?" I asked, rubbing my hand swiftly over the applied therapeutic tape. If done properly, it'd adhere to the skin for up to seven days.

"Didn't I tell you the other morning?" Matty stepped out of the hot tub, studying my face. Water sluiced off his swim trunks and his actions were perfunctory in the way he dried himself. "I'm hosting a barbecue for the swim team tonight. I do it every year during Memorial Day weekend. You couldn't have missed the dogs in the fridge and the patties in the freezer."

"Oh, right," I said quickly. "I'll probably head out to the beach. I hope you and your friends have a good time."

I started walking away.