Authors: KC Wells
“Fucking hell!”
Paul jumped out of his skin at the sound of Adam’s loud cry. He bolted toward the stairs and ran up, taking two steps at a time. Paul flung open the door to the bathroom.
The room was filled with steam, all the windows and mirrors fogged with condensation. Adam was leaning against the tiled wall, clutching his shoulder and rubbing it.
“Adam, what happened?” Paul was at his side in a flash, his hand on Adam’s shoulder. When Adam winced, he withdrew. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?”
Adam let out a low growl. “I fucking banged it on the tiles.” Adam’s voice quavered with anger. “That fucking shower!”
Paul glanced at the offending shower before returning his attention to Adam. “Breathe, all right? Then tell me what happened.”
Adam’s chest heaved, but he nodded. “The water started out cold, same as always,” he began, his voice sounding calmer. “It got warmer, but it kept on getting hotter.” Adam shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I had the shower control in the same position as usual, in the middle, but the bloody water just kept on getting hotter. I pushed it to the right to let in more cold, but nothing happened.” Adam expelled a long push of air. “I panicked a little. The water has never gotten that hot before. I kept pushing the lever and when it had no effect, I shoved it all the way over. Instead of cold water coming out, the flow just… stopped. Nothing.”
The pinkness in his skin was fading, thank God.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I was until I tried to get out from under the water. In my panic I stepped back without thinking clearly and bashed my shoulder into the wall.”
Paul grabbed a bath towel from the heated rail and passed it to him. He glanced at the shower. “Neither of us takes a shower until I can get a plumber to look at it. Taylor’s texted me a couple, including their most reliable guy, who’s local.” Never mind about waiting until Monday: Paul wanted this sorted ASAP.
Adam rubbed himself briskly, his breathing more even. “If it hadn’t stopped the way it did, I’d have just shut it down.” He glared in the shower’s direction. “Stupid fucking thing.” His voice vibrated, still tinged with anger.
“Hey.” Paul laid his hand on Adam’s arm, his tone soothing. “Easy.”
Adam drew in a deep breath. He wrapped the towel around his waist, and Paul regarded him intently. His skin was flushed, but not the red Paul would have associated with a scald. It was his turn to breathe more easily. He glanced down at his own clothes, still bearing traces of cake.
“I’d better have a wash in the basin.”
Adam nodded. The corners of his mouth pulled down. “Well, that killed my mood.” His tone was subdued.
Paul had to agree. He felt the same way. “How about when I’m cleaned up, we go downstairs and put the TV on?” He’d only recently discovered Audio Description was available on their satellite channels, but as yet they hadn’t taken a look.
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s choose a DVD, something we’re both familiar with, and watch that.” Adam gave a half smile. “Well, I’ll listen to it. I’m in the mood for something funny and light.”
Paul could do that. “And we can eat some of your birthday cake while we watch,” he suggested. He grinned. “I want the head.”
Adam gave a mock wince. “Just thinking about you slicing into that…. ” He chuckled. “Get cleaned up.” He exited the bathroom, leaving Paul to undress.
“Yes, sir,” Paul muttered under his breath, smiling.
“And how about a glass of wine to go with the cake?” Adam called out from his bedroom. “It’s still my birthday.”
“Sounds good,” Paul shouted back. He stared at his reflection and laughed. “Bloody hell, I’m a mess.” How the fuck did he get cake in his hair? He chuckled as he filled the basin with warm water.
Getting the cake
out
of his hair was going to be tricky. Paul glared at the shower. Fucking thing. It was only then that it struck him. The timing.
Did Dean have something to do with this?
* * * * * *
“Thank you for coming out on a Sunday, Mr. Foster,” Paul said as he closed the front door.
The plumber chuckled. “It’s Jim, nipper. Mr. Foster sounds like you’re talkin’ to me dad. I don’t usually work Sundays but seeing as you’re a good friend of Taylor’s an’ you sounded like you ’ad a real problem ’ere, I thought I’d come take a look.” Jim was in his fifties, his hair gray, face lined and tanned, and judging from his voice, an Islander. He wore dark gray overalls and carried a blue plastic toolbox.
Paul smiled. “Taylor said you were the best.”
“Aww. That lad,” Jim said fondly. “I’ve known ’im since he were a nipper. Never thought he’d end up married to a bloke, though, and a Yank, too!” Another ribald chuckle. “So what seems to be the problem ’ere? Faulty shower, I think you said.”
“That’s right.” Paul led Jim up the stairs to the bathroom. Adam was in the office on his laptop, the door closed. As they went, Paul recounted the issues. “It started as a dripping shower head, not all the time, but every now and then it would let out a load of water. Last night it got more serious.” He related what had happened. “Do you need to turn the water off?”
“No, lad, I just need to find the isolation valves so I can switch off the water to the shower.”
Paul pointed to the tall cupboard next to the bathroom. “Are they in there?”
Jim opened the door and smiled. “That’s the ticket.” He reached toward the rear of the cupboard but pulled back. “’Ave you been in ’ere?” His smile vanished.
“Er, no. Although someone did come over yesterday morning to try and fix the drip. He might have turned the water off here, too.” Paul frowned. “What’s the problem?”
“This someone, is he a plumber?” When Paul shook his head, Jim scowled. “Bloody amateurs. He didn’t switch the cold water feed back on. No wonder your friend couldn’t get the water to cool down. An’ that’s why the shower stopped. When he pushed it all the way over to cold, weren’t nothing in there so it shut itself off.” He stretched out his arm and slid a lever from horizontal to vertical. Jim hunkered down and peered at a dial. “Bloody ’ell. You like your showers warm, don’tcha?”
“What do you mean?” Paul knelt beside him to see where Jim was looking.
The plumber pointed to a dial with numbers over it. “This sets the maximum temperature for the hot water. It’s set at seventy degrees. Should be more like fifty, fifty-five, max.” He twisted the dial until it was at the correct setting. “Okay, the water’s off. Let’s take a look at that shower.”
Paul watched from the doorway as Jim dismantled the shower lever, unscrewing it and peering into it. He beamed. “’Ere’s your problem, nipper. You need a new cartridge.” He held up the small cylindrical blue and white plastic part. “See, bits o’ grit come in with the water supply an’ they chip the ceramic discs inside the valve.” He reassembled the shower. “Right. I’ll ’ave to order the part, an’ that might take a few days, but you can still use the shower, okay?”
“Thank you, that’s great.”
Jim smiled. “I’ll give you a call when it’s in, and then I’ll come back an’ install it.” He set down his toolbox and returned to the cylinder cupboard. “An’ now I’ll turn the water back on.” He grinned.
Paul chuckled. “Thank you. How much do we owe you?”
Jim closed the cylinder cupboard door. “Call it fifty quid. You don’t have to pay me now, you can do that when I’ve fitted the part, ’cause I’ll ’ave to add on the cost of that, plus the labor for fitting it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “An’ seein’ as I ’ave no idea ’ow much these go for, I can’t tell you ’ow much the total will be. I ’aven’t fitted one in a while.”
“That’s fine.” Paul would ensure there was enough cash in the house to cover any eventuality. He led the way down the staircase.
“Glad I could ’elp.” Jim gave him another warm smile. “Say hi to Taylor for me when you see ’im next. Tell ’im to make sure he’s behavin’ hisself.”
Paul laughed. “I will.” He showed Jim to the door and waved him off in his little van. He walked over to the office and pushed open the door. Adam was sitting in the big chair behind the desk, typing, a mechanical voice relaying each word.
He glanced up. “All fixed?”
“Not quite.” Paul shared the details. He scowled. “Adam, there’s something odd here.”
Adam sat back in the chair, his typing forgotten. “What’s wrong?”
“How could Dean not have switched the cold water valve back on?”
Adam rubbed his chin. “Maybe he simply forgot. He’s not a plumber, after all.”
Paul wasn’t having it. “He knew enough to switch off the feeds to the shower, didn’t he? So why switch the hot water back on, but not the cold?” Something else was tugging at him. “And what about the water temperature?” When Adam’s brow creased, Paul realized he hadn’t shared everything and quickly told him about the setting. “You said last night the water hadn’t been that hot before. That points to the setting being altered.”
Adam grimaced. “Yeah, I agree. This is odd.”
“I think I should call your sister,” Paul declared decisively.
“God, no.” Adam straightened. “I can hear her already. ‘Haven’t I always said you need to live someplace where there’s assistance when you need it?’” He huffed. “Not bloody likely.”
Paul tried not to snicker. It was an uncanny impersonation of Caroline. Adam’s final words registered. “You already have assistance, remember? You have me.”
Adam’s smile lit up his face. “Yeah. I do.” It was followed by a mock stern glance. “Speaking of assistance, the coffee is flowing like mud around here this morning.”
“Is that a hint?” Paul chuckled. “Coffee coming right up, sir. I’ll let you go back to playing with your PC.”
He dodged the magazine that came sailing in his direction just in time.
“You sure about this?” Paul asked him as he locked the car. “I’m only checking because it’s the August Bank Holiday weekend and there are gonna be a lot more people in there than usual. All those tourists who are staying in self-catering accommodation, mostly.”
Adam gripped his cane. “Bring it on,” he said with a grin. Inside was a different story.
Why did I say I wanted to go shopping with him?
He already knew the answer. Adam had his own little list he shared with no one, a list of activities to be crossed off once he’d accomplished them. They weren’t onerous tasks, but things he’d taken for granted when he was sighted. Shopping for groceries was one of them. Browsing online was another. The biggest—okay, the scariest—item on the list was to go for a walk on his own.
Any day now, though
. Adam was determined to take his life back.
Shopping in Morrisons’ supermarket was a big step along that road.
He walked at Paul’s side, his cane tracing an arc in front of him, Paul’s fingers at his elbow. “Thanks for asking.” It was reassuring to know Paul had his back.
A light squeeze of his arm was response enough.
“I was thinking I’d push the shopping trolley,” he said, trying to ignore his racing heartbeat.
“Oh no, you don’t. If we’re doing this, I’m gonna have you picking stuff from the shelves, choosing produce… ” Paul snickered. “You’ll have earned your dinner tonight.”
“Bossy little shit, aren’t you?” Secretly Adam loved it when this side of Paul emerged. It spoke to Adam of self-assurance, an appealing trait in his book.
Paul has a lot of amiable traits.
It made spending time with him a pleasant experience.
“Before we go in there, let’s get one thing straight. You may be the big bad Dom, but when it comes to doing the shopping? I’m in charge, so you’d better get used to the idea.”
Adam couldn’t wait to get a load of
this
. “Yes, sir.” The sheer audacity of Paul’s words made him smile.
Paul laughed. “Okay, wait here while I get us a trolley. There’s a brick pillar right behind you.”
Adam couldn’t resist. “I promise not to talk to strangers, Mum.” He struggled to keep his face straight. The hard tap on his arse was a complete surprise. He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t let the role go to your head,” he said with a smirk. He could hear Paul’s chuckles as he moved away.
Adam let the mask drop and took a moment to breathe deeply. The constant noise around him was overwhelming. Traffic from the road, the clatter of shopping trolleys as they were collected and returned, the chatter of shoppers, plaintive demands of children obviously being dragged along with their parents to do the shopping…
I can do this.
Adam expelled his anxiety with a long exhale.
“Hey.” Paul was at his side, those gentle fingers at his elbow again.
“I’m all right,” Adam insisted before Paul could say anything. He smiled, hoping to fake the confidence he lacked. This was stupid. He’d fought in Afghanistan, crewed yachts across the Atlantic, reduced grown men to a whimpering mess of emotions: he could cope with a bloody shopping trip, for God’s sake.
“I know you are.” Paul’s voice was strong. “So give me the cane, which I’ll put in the trolley, take the handle and let’s go do some shopping. I’ll have my hand on the trolley, guiding you, okay?”
Adam gripped the smooth plastic handle across the front of the shopping cart and nodded.
They entered the supermarket, Adam aware of the automatic doors that swung open as they neared. He sniffed the air, picking up the aroma of flowers, the strong scent of lilies overpowering. Paul led them through at a steady pace.
“Fresh produce first. Let me check the list.”
Adam smiled. “I can smell strawberries.”
“There’s a display to your right, lots of plastic boxes of them.”
Adam reached out slowly and connected with film-covered plastic containers. He picked one up and held his nose to the cover, inhaling the delicious aroma. “Please tell me they’re on your list. They smell wonderful.” Without waiting for Paul’s response, he held the box out. “Do these look okay? I used to always check the underside in case there were any moldy or damaged ones.”
Paul chuckled. “I take it this means we’re having strawberries for dessert tonight.” He took the box. “They’re fine. Actually, those look really good.”