Room for Recovery

by D. J. Jamison

  “Back off!” Beau shouted, pushing Wade back a step. He needed room to breathe. He didn’t know when Wade had become so protective, but he was smothering him now.

  Wade withdrew to the far side of the elevator. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off. I thought I could help.”

  Beau immediately felt bad. For years, he had wanted Wade to care about him, and now he was pushing him away when Wade showed concern. It didn’t make any sense, except Beau was worried he’d fall apart in front of Wade if he told him too much.

  Beau took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “A patient might die, and I just found out.”

  “Oh.”

  A beat of silence passed as Wade searched for a response. Finally, he spoke again. “You seem so happy after your shifts here. I assumed it was all happy times.”

  “It usually is,” Beau admitted. “This took me by surprise. I don’t always get to know patients, but after he was admitted, his surgery was delayed, so I spent an hour chatting with him to keep him company. Then I checked the next day, and he was still there, so . . .”

  “So, you got to know him.”

  The doors opened to the ground floor, and Beau walked out with Wade. “Yeah. I did.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how the nurses and doctors deal with that, you know?”

  “It can’t be easy,” Wade said. “But it’s what you want to do right? Be a nurse.”

  Beau shrugged uncomfortably. Could he really handle watching patients die?

  “Honestly? Right now, I’m a lot less sure of that,” he said.

  Wade seemed to understand. “I guess you have to weigh the good vs. the bad. The good you could do as a nurse would greatly outweigh the low points, right?”

  Beau glanced at him. “You still think that after what happened with your father?”

  Wade blanched, and Beau regretted bringing up Byron Ritter’s death. Wade never talked about his father’s suicide, but then Wade hadn’t talked about much of anything until recent weeks.

  “Sorry, forget I said that.”

  Beau followed Wade across the concrete parking lot to his car. They got inside, and Wade had driven halfway to Beau’s house before he spoke.

  “What did you mean?”

  “What?”

  “About my dad.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry.”

  Wade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Just tell me what you meant.”

  Beau took a deep breath, trying to tread carefully. “I just meant, working as a surgeon, losing patients, that must have weighed on him.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “I mean, if he took his own life . . .”

  Wade didn’t look at him. “That’s not why he did it.”

  “Oh.” Beau hesitated. “So, you know why?”

  “Well, no one can know for sure. He didn’t leave us a note that spelled it out. I have an idea, though.”

  Beau waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure he should push Wade. He was kind of surprised he’d said as much as he did.

  “Can you tell me your idea?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Wade said firmly. “I get your point, though. It would be hard to deal with losing patients.”

  “Yeah.”

  Wade pulled into the driveway, but instead of waiting for Beau to get out, he cut the engine and turned to look at him.

  “So, um, I have some news that might cheer you up. A little, maybe.”

  Wade seemed almost shy. It was dark in the car, so he couldn’t see his face clearly, but there was a bashful tone in his voice.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, it can’t make up for a patient’s life or anything,” he said.

  “Just tell me,” Beau said. “I could use some good news.”

  “I got a B- on my paper,” Wade said.

  The note of pride in his voice was unmistakable. Even in the dim interior of the car, Beau could see the smile on his face.

  “Really? That’s awesome!”

  Beau held his fist out for a bump, Wade’s favorite mode of celebrating, but to his surprise, Wade knocked his hand away and leaned over to hug him. It was just a brief squeeze, but he was stunned silent.

  “Thank you,” Wade said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “No problem,” Beau said. “I’m glad all your work paid off.”

  He opened the car door, the warmth of Wade’s body fading as he stepped into the brisk night air. He glanced down into the car before shutting the door.

  “You’re turning over a new leaf, Wade. This could just be the beginning.”

  “Maybe,” Wade said with a grin. “See you in the morning.”

  Beau nodded, his brief burst of happiness fading as he trudged up to the house. He was happy he was able to help Wade, but he wished he could do something more for Amos Jacobs.

  ***

  As usual, the entire family — including Uncle Xavier, Trent and the Ritters — converged on Beau’s house for Sunday dinner the weekend after Beau’s news about Amos. Gran liked to cook for Sundays the way most families did for Thanksgiving, but they usually lived off the leftovers for a couple of days each week.

  Despite the daily car rides and the brief glimpses into Wade’s psyche, he stayed quiet and distant at family dinners. Beau tried not to be disappointed that Wade’s warmth didn’t translate to a public setting.

  “So, any news about Amos Jacobs?” Beau asked Trent once plates had been passed and helpings of baked chicken, mashed potatoes and fried okra had been dished out.

  Trent’s brow furrowed. “He wasn’t my patient, and now that he’s in ICU, I know even less.”

  Beau’s heart sank. He’d counted on Trent to be his inside scoop. What if Amos Jacobs had died and he didn’t know? What if he never knew for sure?

  “Who is Mr. Jacobs?” his mother asked.

  Beau pushed his food around, no longer hungry, as Trent and Xavier filled in the story for the rest of the family. They kept the details vague, outside of explaining a patient had been transferred to intensive care.

  “So, can’t one of you find out news for Beau?”

  Beau stared in surprise at Wade, who rarely engaged in family conversations. Instead of remaining aloof and disinterested, he held Trent’s gaze. “You can’t leave him wondering what’s happened to this guy.”

  Xavier cleared his throat. “I’ve called over to ICU a couple of times this week.”

  Beau snapped to attention. “And?”

  “No change.” Beau sagged in disappointment. “Sorry.”

  Beau shrugged, trying to shake off the dark mood that settled over him.

  “Did Wade tell you the good news, Beau?” Helen called from down the table. She was obviously trying to change the subject, but Beau was curious. He glanced at Wade, who looked embarrassed.

  “What?” Beau asked.

  “I told him,” Wade said with an eye roll. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s a huge deal,” Helen insisted.

  “What happened?” Uncle Trent asked. He was as invested in Wade’s life as Uncle Xavier was in Beau’s, so he wasn’t surprised he’d be curious.

  “Wade got a B- on his English paper! It’s a big improvement.”

  “Jesus, Mom, why not just tell them I’m stupid? A B- is nothing to celebrate. Beau makes all A’s.”

  “You don’t have to be a straight-A student,” Helen said, her smile dimming. “You should be proud of your progress.”

  “So, are you going to graduate?” Gran asked, never one to beat around the bush. Despite the blunt question, Wade grinned.

  “That’s the plan.”

  Beau realized Wade was more bothered by his mother’s excitement over his grade than Gran bringing up the fact he didn’t graduate the year before. Was it because he thought he could do better? Beau was sure he could too.

  “If you think a B- isn’t worth praise, do better on the next one,” Beau said. �
��You’re capable of more.”

  Wade’s gaze shot to his. “I don’t know. I did try on this last one,” he said. “You helped, so you should know.”

  Beau shrugged. “You did the paper, and you included all the required materials, but you didn’t think hard on the topic. You chose a shallow topic, and you didn’t dig very deep.”

  Everyone at the table stared at Beau. Helen was beaming at him, while Wade looked disgruntled. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  Beau rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you by suggesting you start over from scratch. I helped you work with the work you had already done.”

  Wade chewed a bite of chicken, giving Beau a chance to brace for attack. Wade pointed a fork in Beau’s direction.

  “Push me more next time. I want an A.”

  “Oh!” Helen dabbed at moist eyes with a napkin. Trent squeezed her shoulder, leaning in to whisper something that made her give a watery laugh.

  “Mom?” Wade asked, a note of confusion in his voice.

  “Sorry, I’m fine.”

  “Are you crying?”

  She wiped at her face, chuckling awkwardly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Wade.”

  “Uh. Okay . . .”

  He didn’t sound convinced.

  “I’m just so happy to see you care about something.”

  “I care about things...”

  “Yeah, like being a big jerk,” Maggie said.

  Katy giggled while Beau’s mom shushed his sister.

  Helen waved a hand. “You know what I mean. You’re really trying this year.”

  Beau waited for the explosion. He wasn’t the only one. A glance around the table showed a lot of wary expressions. But Wade didn’t lose his temper.

  He nodded. “Guess I am.”

  “Can I be proud of that?”

  He rubbed his neck, where his skin flushed red. “I guess.”

  Wade focused on shoveling in potatoes, and the conversation moved away from him. Beau extended his leg under the table and kicked Wade’s foot. When he looked up, Beau smiled at him.

  “We’ll turn you into a Goody Two-shoes yet.”

  Wade barked a laugh. “Not likely. But I can handle graduating from high school.”

  “Then we’ll make sure you do.”

  Chapter 13

  Beau didn’t have to pluck up the courage to ask out Miles like Ker wanted. The day of Ashe High’s football game vs. Lincoln High, where they were sure to be crushed if the team’s record was anything to go by, Miles lingered next to Beau as he packed up his instrument after practice.

  “You ready for the game tonight?”

  “I guess.” Beau shrugged. It was nearing the end of marching season, with homecoming coming up fast, and Beau was more than ready to be done with it. “I heard the weather’s going to turn cold.”

  Miles glanced at the sky, though it was a clear, cloudless day. A cold front was moving in, but no rain or snow was forecast, thank God. Beau was a bit of a delicate flower when it came to weather. He’d love to live in a warmer climate.

  “You have a ride lined up?” Miles asked. “I noticed you don’t have a car.”

  “I’ll figure something out,” Beau said. He hadn’t decided whether to ask his mom to drive him, which would disrupt the family’s regular evening routine, or ask Wade, who probably had better things to do on a Friday night. His mom had gone to the last few home games, so it hadn’t been an issue, but she didn’t like bad weather any more than he did, so he was sure she’d sit this one out.

  “I could take you,” Miles offered. “I was kind of wondering if maybe you’d like to hang out sometime?”

  Beau took in his hopeful expression. “Hang out, like . . .”

  Miles lowered his voice. “Um, you know. Hang out. Unless you’re secretly dating Wade or something?”

  Beau’s eyes widened, and he gave a nervous laugh. “Wade Ritter? Are you crazy? No. He’s just . . . we’re not—”

  “So, it’s a date then?” Miles asked, his eyes bright with humor at Beau’s spluttering.

  Beau bit down on his lip, trying to squelch the butterflies inside. Even though Ker had suggested Miles might like him, the reality felt different. It was exciting but scary. Beau had never been on a date. No other guy had ever expressed interest in him, and he’d figured he might not have a boyfriend until college.

  Not that Miles will want to be your boyfriend. Just slow down.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, trying his best to sound casual. “A date with frigid temperatures and an ugly marching uniform, but a date.”

  Miles laughed. “Well, you’ve gotta start somewhere, right? We’ll find a way to stay warm.”

  Beau was going to have to level up before the game that night if he intended to keep up with Miles’ flirty banter. Luckily, Wade interrupted and saved him from coming up with a response.

  “Hey, Beau! You almost ready?”

  Wade ambled toward them with long but unhurried strides. Beau had always admired how comfortable Wade seemed in his own skin. And how good he looked in it — and in everything else. His jeans hugged his thighs and accentuated the length of his legs. Wade’s blue button-down shirt, tossed on over a white T-shirt, brought out the color of his eyes. His hair was a mess, but a stylish one.

  A wave of guilt hit Beau, and he didn’t even know why. Did he feel guilty for admiring Wade when Miles had asked him out, or guilty for accepting a date with Miles when he was still so hung up on Wade?

  “Text me your details,” Miles said before turning away with a wave. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Wade lifted his eyebrows after Beau had called goodbye. “What’s tonight?”

  “Football game,” Beau said as he watched Miles cross the parking lot. He and Wade had never warmed up to one another. “We’ve got to march.”

  “Oh. Do you need a ride?”

  He stared after Miles, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of dating someone. Going to dinner, maybe kissing. He tried to imagine his lips against Miles’s mouth and failed utterly. The idea of it made his heart lurch in his chest and his palms sweat. Would Miles want to kiss him tonight? Beau had never kissed anyone, not even playing around as a kid.

  Wade nudged him. “Beau? You in there?”

  He blinked and glanced over at Wade. “Um, yeah. Sorry.”

  “So, do you need a ride tonight?” Wade asked again as they crossed the field toward the parking lot.

  “Miles is giving me a ride.”

  Wade didn’t answer, and Beau was so used to Wade’s lapses into silence, he almost ignored it. But when he glanced at Wade, he was startled by the dark look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said shortly. “Just wondering why you didn’t ask me to take you tonight. It’s the one thing I’m good for.”

  There were a lot of things wrong with that statement. Beau grabbed Wade’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “First of all, you’re good for more than chauffeuring me around,” he said.

  Wade shrugged, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. “You know what I mean.”

  “Second, Miles asked me to hang out. You know? I didn’t ask him to do me a favor. We’re friends.”

  “Okay,” Wade said. “Just friends?”

  “What?” Beau said, pretending not to understand. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Wade that Miles asked him out. Was he so far in denial he hoped Wade would care?

  “You and Miles are just friends?”

  Beau looked into his blue eyes, searching for some sign that it would matter to Wade. He didn’t see anything but curiosity. His heart sank, but his resolve to give Miles a chance strengthened. He needed to get over his crush.

  “Guess I’ll find out tonight,” he said.

  ***

  Beau fidgeted in his seat, adjusting his stiff uniform that never sat comfortably. The material scratched his skin, the cuffs slid too high over his wrists, and he felt like an imposter in the for
mal attire. He really hated marching band, but his fidgeting had more to do with nerves than clothing.

  “Beau, you’re making the whole table move. Stop jiggling your leg,” his mother ordered.

  He forced his knee to be still and took a quick bite of mashed potatoes.

  “Are you nervous?” Gran asked. She’d always been perceptive, but Beau tried to play it off.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Just not looking forward to the weather.”

  “It’s nasty out,” his mother said, casting a dark look at the window. “Make sure you wear your gloves.”

  “It’s part of my uniform,” Beau said. “No worries there.”

  “Who’s taking you tonight?” his mom asked. He’d told her he had a ride, but he hadn’t offered many other details. “Is it Wade?”

  Maggie pantomimed gagging, and Beau rolled his eyes.

  “It’s not Wade.”

  “A girl?” His mom asked, looking like a bloodhound who’d just got the scent.

  “No, a guy from band,” he said. “Miles.”

  He got up to rinse his plate and was relieved to hear the doorbell. “That’s him now. See you guys later!”

  He kissed Gran’s cheek, waved to his mother and sister and opened the door. Sometimes they watched him march, but not at every game. They liked the marching festival events better. Plus, Gran had been under the weather all week, so Beau didn’t mind them skipping it. In fact, when he saw Miles smiling on his porch, he was kind of glad they wouldn’t watch Beau try to figure out how to flirt with this boy.

  “Hey, thanks for the ride,” he said as they got on the road. Miles drove an expensive car, which didn’t seem to fit his laid-back personality. Beau stroked the leather seats in the Porsche to give his hands something to do. “This is a nice car.”

  “It’s my dad’s car,” Miles said. He cleared his throat. “I borrowed it because my car is a POS. Not exactly good date material, you know?”

  Beau could feel his face heat at the mention of the date. He felt shy and awkward now that he was alone with Miles. “I wouldn’t have minded. I have no car at all, so I can’t complain.”

  Miles shrugged, a little color in his face. “Easier to borrow this than clean out all the clutter, you know?”