Connections (2/2)
Connections 2
Rosalee walked back into the main part of the shop, closing the door to the back room behind her. Nick was changing out of the gym shorts and back into his pants. She had reservations about whether or not that was a good idea but she’d kept her mouth shut. It was cold out. And besides, the shorts were Monroe’s and she doubted that either Nick or Monroe wanted to have Nick take them home.
Hank and Monroe sat in separate chairs, the silence between them seeming comfortable enough. Every once in a while they would look at each other and then some form of communication would pass between them but it was always silent. When they noticed her, their attentions focused on her, the question of how Nick was doing in their eyes. Their concern for their friend was heartwarming but it wasn’t as though Nick was in very grave danger so she also found it a bit odd.
Leaving the two of them to stew in their own worries and minds, Rosalee went behind the bar and started organizing a few orders that she had coming in first thing in the morning.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about Monroe using the staged fight to pay Nick back. On the one hand she could understand it. Like she’d told Nick, he’d been struggling to reconcile himself fully to the knowledge that it hadn’t really been Nick who had tried to beat him to death. His more animalistic side wanted, needed, payback and it seemed that it got it tonight. Being the only one who hadn’t been hurt by Nick, Rosalee probably wasn’t a good judge. She knew from talking with her that Juliette was having troubles with letting Nick touch her. Every time he tried to get close, she would put him off, telling him that he needed rest or she would minutely flinch at his touch. It was getting better, she’d been told, but it still happened. So who was she to condemn Monroe for trying to settle things in his own way?
The door to the back room opened and Nick exited. He still moved stiffly but, thanks to the liniment that she’d applied, it had lessened by a lot. He limped - albeit barely - out into the main room and did his best to hide his injured wrist from his friends, offering them tired smiles.
“There, the doctor has seen me. Can I go home now?” he asked, practically whining. Rosalee had to stop a smile from creasing her face at the tone in his voice as it was kinda cute to hear that coming from a 30+ year old man. Evidently the only reason he’d come was because Hank and Monroe had forced him to.
“I don’t know. Doc, how is he?” Hank asked, now forcing her to answer their question from earlier.
“He’ll be fine,” she said. Then she looked expressly at Nick, wanting to make sure that he got the upcoming message loud and clear. “Providing he takes it easy for the next week, he’ll be good as new.”
“Well, as much as I’d love to just sit around at home, I’m not sure I’ll be able to manage that,” Nick quipped, essentially pointing out that ‘taking it easy’ was simply not in his job description.
“Then it’ll take a bit longer, but eventually, you’ll be fine.” She smiled, knowing that they both already knew that. “And now it’s time for the Spice Shop to officially close. So if you don’t mind, gentlemen, it’s time for you all to go home.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Hank said, jerking his head in the direction of the Dodge that was parked outside. “Thanks Rosalee.”
“Yes, thank you,” Nick added, his smile genuine.
“Anytime Nick,” she answered, meaning it. She didn’t like how often this group got hurt but she was happy to help.
The two left the shop with the bell on the door ringing their exit.
“So,” Monroe said, a little too cheerily. “What should we do tonight?”
Rosalee cuddled up to her boyfriend. She loved the way his eyes glowed red with pleasure every time she did that. As well as the growl that bubbled in his chest as he held her close.
“Well,” she said, drawing out the pleasure a little bit longer. “I figured we could close up the shop, go home, and go to bed.”
“And here I thought we were actually going to do something fun,” he pouted with a slight scoff. “This is punishment, isn’t it?”
“What would you need punishing for?” Rosalee innocently asked as she gathered up the things she’d used for Nick and put them away. “I mean, you only beat the crap out of your best friend.”
She looked over her shoulder in time to see Monroe wince. “He told you about that, huh?”
“Actually, no. I had to guess. He was very vague about what had happened to him.”
“He was?” Surprise not only sounded through Monroe’s voice but it also shone on his face. Had Monroe thought that Nick would seriously sell him out?
“Yeah, he was,” she answered on a laugh. “I don’t think he wanted to get you into trouble.” She paused, debating on saying what she was going to say next and then added, “Or maybe he thought he deserved the pain.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Monroe scoffed, throwing an arm around her shoulders and walking out onto the midnight Portland street with her.
“Is it?” she challenged, looking up at him and separating them.
“Well yeah,” he answered as though it was perfectly obvious.
“Why’s that?”
“Because what happened while he was a zombie wasn’t his fault. He knows that.”
They climbed into Monroe’s VW and then started heading for their house. Rosalee was tempted to respond, taking her parting shot then and there, but she refrained. She waited until they had entered the house and had the door locked before she answered.
“I imagine it’s hard for him to believe that when his closest friends are punishing him for it. One way or another.”
Fin (?)