Wounded (In My Dreams) by Erin R Flynn

crossed a line. He acted like nothing had happened, rolling out of bed and stretching.
    “So? Did it help?”
    “I wasn’t thinking about my dog when I woke up,” I muttered, not specifying what I had been thinking of.
    “Well, that’s a start. I’m going to go pull out those box springs and clean up the garage. Have fun writing.”
    And just like that, he slid into his flip flops and walked out of the room. I blinked after him. He was odd and a little too perky. Then again, I wasn’t normal and I needed some perky in my life. I went back to my office and wrote for a few hours until I was dying for a smoke. I decided to have it in the garage and check out what he was up to.
    His head shot up when I opened the door, bright smile on his face. “Lily, your garage is the bomb . Little TV, Wi-Fi Blu-ray player, iPod player, fan, little heater, mini fridge—the works!”
    “Yeah, I’m spoiled,” I chuckled as I lit a smoke. “I always wanted an author cave instead of a bat cave or man cave. I had the space finally to do it so when I moved in and was so overwhelmed with unpacking, it was my first job. It took me a while to figure out how to get all the white boards up without making a mess or ruining anything but I think I’ve got it now.”
    “Can I use this one over here for my own lists?” he asked, pointed to the moveable, sticky chalkboard one. “The markers are so fun.”
    “Knock yourself out.”
    He jumped up from the shelf he was cleaning and grabbed a marker. “Okay, give me some more jobs.”
    “Where do you get all this energy from?” I teased, glad he was excited to help me but still thrown by it.
    “Are you kidding me? I’m living the dream, Lily. You saved me . Yesterday I was homeless, smelly, malnourished, so dehydrated I couldn’t talk, alone, scared, without anything . Today, I’ve got a great place to live, an even better friend, a bed to sleep in, and all the food and drink I can stuff in my face.”
    “To see life like you do,” I whispered, staring at him. “You never bitch about what happened to you or seem angry that life took such a turn you were homeless. You’re just excited not to be anymore.”
    “That doesn’t mean I’m not angry. I’m just grateful I’m still not on the streets,” he muttered as he turned away. I could take the hint. Discussion over. “So what jobs?”
    “Umm, the toilet downstairs needs new guts. The current ‘fix’ is retightening the bolt inside every few weeks and that sucks. The stairs on the back porch are a joke. No one builds stairs with two two-by-fours, and they’re warped. I hate walking on there. I’m just waiting for someone else to take a spill and it be my fault.”
    “Okay, good, I can handle both of those with the right supplies.”
    “The banister top in the entryway needs—”
    “Already glued it back on,” he interrupted, shooting me a wink over his shoulder. “I’m almost done out here too. I brushed the box springs off with a wet sponge and disinfected them with Lysol.” He nodded over to them leaning off to the side. When someone had a king-sized bed, most places recommended two twin box springs instead of a massive king box spring. So that was what I had done.
    “Wow, okay, what else?” I asked to myself, but he took it as his to answer.
    “I cleaned out your tool chest, wiped down everything, and put it back in all organized.”
    I dropped my smoke and rushed over to him, throwing my arms around his neck and giving him a loud peck on the lips. “Oh my god , you’re amazing. I’ve been wanting to do that for years, but it’s so tedious and annoying, and I didn’t want to do it. I just wanted it done.”
    “Glad you’re happy,” he whispered as his hands moved around my waist and up my back. I started to pull away, realizing I’d been overly friendly and excited about the damn tools and organization.
    Instead Jasper pulled me against him and mashed his mouth down to mine. I couldn’t help my reaction,