“Are you okay?”
Beau looked up into the concerned face of a doctor. The same doctor he’d bumped into outside the maternity ward, he realized.
“Yeah.” It was only when he heard his own rough voice that he became aware he’d been crying. More for Amos Jacobs than his own heart. Or perhaps both.
He wiped his cheeks with his palms. “Sorry.”
The doctor sat down next to him. “Don’t apologize. This is a hospital. You can grieve freely. Are you waiting to see someone? You’ve been here a while, and no one has come out to speak to you.”
Beau shook his head. “I’m not family, so ...”
“Is it a boyfriend?”
Beau laughed, the image of Amos Jacobs in his head. “Uh, no.”
“Sorry if I misread you,” Dr. Rollins said with an embarrassed smile. “I was trying to help, but my gaydar has always been faulty.”
“No, you’re right. About me ... being gay.” It was weird to be open about that, but he didn’t see the point in hiding it. This doctor didn’t know him. “But the patient I’m worried about is in his seventies.”
“Ah. But not family?”
“I met him here. I’m a volunteer. He doesn’t have anyone close, and we visited a few times before he ended up in ICU. Now, no one can tell me how he’s doing, and I can’t see him.” Beau took a deep breath. “I don’t want him to die alone.”
“I see.” Dr. Rollins stood and walked up to the admittance desk, where he had a short conversation. Beau figured he was done talking to the emo kid, but then he returned.
“Come with me.”
Beau looked up, surprised. “What? Can’t I be in the waiting room, at least?”
“You can be, but then you won’t see your patient, will you?”
Beau followed Dr. Rollins through a door and down a long corridor. The hospital smelled strongly of disinfectant and cleaning supplies, as it always did, but the sterile environment seemed even stronger here.
“But my uncle works here, and he said only family could visit.”
The doctor slowed, matching his stride to Beau’s shorter one. “Well, that’s true. But one supervised visit shouldn’t hurt. I’ll have a look at his chart, and you can see him while I do.”
“I thought you were a baby doctor,” he said.
Dr. Rollins laughed. “That’s right. I work in OB-GYN. I had a patient here, so I was in to do follow-up.”
“A baby?”
“No, infants go to NIC-U. This was a mother.”
“Oh.”
“She’s stabilizing,” Dr. Rollins told him, then paused outside a door. “Come on, this is it.”
Beau followed the doctor inside, dread filling him. Now that he finally was in the same room, did he want to see Amos suffering? Dying?
He braced himself and turned the corner.
Amos was lying in the bed. He looked small, swaddled in white sheets and with plastic tubing running into his nose and out of his veins. An IV hung from a pole beside the bed, and machines beeped at regular intervals.
Dr. Rollins checked his chart, then replaced it.
“What’s it say? Can you tell me?” Beau asked.
He stepped up beside the bed, resting his fingers on the sheets beside Mr. Jacobs’ hand. He wasn’t sure if he should touch him.
“You can hold his hand if you’d like.”
Beau clasped Mr. Jacobs’ fingers gently. This skin felt papery and cool to the touch. Beau was reminded of the brittle paper in old books and how it could crumble to dust with too much pressure. His heart squeezed tight in his chest.
“He’s doing well all things considered,” Dr. Rollins said, his voice lowered to just above a whisper. “He’s fighting off an infection, and he’s been highly medicated, so he sleeps a lot.”
“Will he ...?”
“I can’t promise a good outcome,” Dr. Rollins said. “But his condition isn’t worsening at this point. There’s a chance he’ll recover.”
Beau’s breath gushed out in relief. “Thank you.”
They walked out together, Beau lost in thought about life and death, how short life could be. It made him want to hunt down Wade and slap him. Then kiss him. More and more, he was convinced that Wade wasn’t only curious. That he wouldn’t have kissed Beau if he felt nothing. He wasn’t impulsive or casual, and he didn’t let people in easily, but for a little while he’d cracked the door for Beau.
“I didn’t catch your name,” the doctor said.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Beau James.”
The doctor looked at him a beat longer. “James. There’s a nurse ...”
“Xavier James is my uncle. He works in maternity.”
“Right. Well, that just goes to prove my next point.”
“It does?”
“Whatever happens to Mr. Jacobs, he’s not alone. There are nurses caring for him around the clock, and that may not seem like much, but they care. Just as you do. And your uncle can tell you as much, as a nurse himself.”
Beau smiled a little, feeling better. “I didn’t think about it that way, but I know Uncle Xavier loves his job and is dedicated to what he does.”
“They all are. It isn’t the easiest profession.”
“Neither is being a doctor.”
“No?”
Beau shook his head. “I have a friend, and his father used to be a surgeon.”
“He isn’t in surgery now?”
“He died. Well, killed himself. A few years back.”
Dr. Rollins stopped at the door back into the waiting room. “It can be a lot of responsibility. More for some than others. I chose my area of expertise because I enjoy celebrating life, but even then, there are tragedies. Not every birth goes as it should.”
“That’s sad.”
The doctor nodded. “It is, but the good outweighs the bad.”
“I was thinking of going into nursing, but after what happened to Mr. Jacobs, I was less sure I could handle the loss of life at a hospital.”
Dr. Rollins met his eye. “There’s no right or wrong answer but think it through. Your well-being is as important as the patients’. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to help them anyway.”
Beau nodded, feeling less stressed than he had in ages. “Thanks. You probably have better things to do than babysit an angsty teen.”
He laughed. “Call me Casper. I’m not your doctor, and it makes me feel younger.”
“Okay. Thank you, Casper.”
He had to be mid-thirties at the most, but Beau humored him.
“It’s my day off, outside of checking on my patient. So, I’m not rushed to be anywhere. I was happy to help ease your worries.”
“You did help. A lot.”
Casper reached into a pocket and withdrew a business card. On the back, he dashed off a cell number, then handed the card to Beau.
“If you want an update, just text me. I’ll find out what I can and keep you informed.”
Beau looked from the card to Casper, so handsome with his blond hair and pale blue eyes. Beau was coming to realize he had a “type,” and this man, while a bit older than Beau usually considered, checked the boxes.
But no one would ever truly compete with Wade in his heart, even now when he was so incredibly angry with him.
“Thank you,” he said. “That’s really nice of you.”
Casper looked sad as he returned Beau’s smile. “I know what it’s like to wait and wonder. I try to offer loved ones comfort where I can.”
Beau watched him go, wondering who the doctor had lost to speak with such compassion. He was just glad their paths had crossed, and he’d finally found a measure of peace.
Just hold on, Amos. Keep fighting, he thought, so I can read to you one more time.
***
Wade threw his duffel in the cargo area of his mom’s Kia Soul, then hefted Katy’s much heavier suitcase in and wedged in his mother’s giant-sized one.
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, thinking the women in his family
were vastly overestimating how many clothes the weeklong trip would require.
He circled to the passenger side — he and his mom would split up the driving, but she was up first — and shook his head as Katy opened the front door. “Shotgun!”
“No fucking way,” he said, snagging her elbow and dragging her back. “If I drive half the trip, I get the front. Besides, you have the shortest legs.”
“That’s not fair!” she cried. Nothing was ever fair lately, so Wade ignored her outrage and folded himself into the front seat and slammed the door.
His sister continued to carry on as their mom ran into the house after yet another thing she’d forgotten, and Wade lost his temper. He’d been doing that a lot lately.
“Shut up!” he bellowed as she continued to argue over seating. “You don’t know anything about life being fucking unfair, so just shut your stupid trap.”
“Wade!”
Great, his mom reappeared outside the open driver’s door just in time to hear that little gem.
“You can’t talk to her like that,” his mother said.
“Save it, Mom. He’s back to being mean all the time,” Katy said, her comment hitting the mark.
He winced, knowing it was true. Ever since the kiss and its fallout with Beau, he’d been spiraling back into misery. Dark thoughts crept through his head all hours of the day.
You don’t deserve to be happy.
You’re a fuckup, and you always will be.
Beau’s better off without you.
On and on, it went. Only now, instead of fixating on his sexuality as his doubts used to, he dwelled on the hurt he’d dealt to Beau. It was harder to think about being gay, how that was wrong, because that would mean saying Beau was wrong, and nothing about Beau was wrong. He wasn’t dirty or disgusting or messed up. He was right in every way.
Wade couldn’t find that peace with his own sexuality, or even his own general personality, but he wanted to. That was the difference from four years ago, and it was the reason he apologized now.
“Sorry, Katy,” he grumbled. “I’m just in a mood.”
“You’re always in a mood,” she snarked.
His mother pulled out of the drive with a weary sigh. “Well, this trip is off to a good start,” she said wryly.
An hour later, Katy was still complaining intermittently, and it was getting on their mother’s nerves as much as his. Even so, he was the one to snap.
“Fucking shut up, Katy. Jesus!”
“Wade,” his mom said sharply. “Language.”
He groaned. “She’s giving me a headache. At this rate, we won’t have to worry about your new boyfriend, because he’ll hear one minute of that screeching and send us packing.”
His mother’s lips tightened. Wrong thing to say.
“The complaining is getting old,” she said, directing her words toward Katy who lapsed into a sulky silence, “but help me out here, Wade. You’re an adult now.”
Wade laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that’s me. So grown up.”
His mother flipped the blinker, taking the next exit to hit a gas station. Wade was ready to escape the car for a piss and fresh soda, but when they’d parked at the pump, she held him back when Katy got out.
“Wade, what’s going on with you?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Is it this trip? I know you weren’t happy when you found out about Ray.”
“I don’t care that much about your love life,” he said. “If he makes you happy, good for you.”
Something about his words gave her pause. “Is this about your love life then?”
His breath caught in his chest. She’d read him better than he intended.
“Wade?” she prompted.
Seeking out the only excuse he could, he blurted, “Anna and I broke up.”
“Oh.” She looked momentarily confused. “I didn’t think you were that serious.” She frowned. “You always keep so much inside, Wade. I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you’re clamming up all the time.”
“Sorry,” he muttered.
In truth, his heart was still aching as he thought about the last time he’d seen Beau in school. Beau hadn’t looked at him, he’d very carefully avoided looking at Wade, but he’d seen the flat quality to his expression. Beau was hurting, and it was Wade’s fault. He’d wanted to apologize, to beg for Beau’s forgiveness, but he couldn’t dredge up any words, just like now.
His mother sighed and shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Wade. Just let me love you.”
He nodded. He really did want to be the nice guy Beau had believed him to be. That meant making an effort even when he felt awful.
“I’ll try.”
“And give Ray a chance,” she added. He opened his mouth, and she rushed on, “I know, I know, you don’t care, but I know you, Wade. You won’t care about offending him, and I really want this to work. So just try. For me?”
Ugh. Being a nice guy sucked.
Chapter 18
The Monday before Thanksgiving, Beau packed up his sax, shivering as a sharp wind tore at his clothes and hair. Another cold front had moved in, but it was the wind famous in Kansas that added the most bite in winter. There were only two more days of school that week, due to Thanksgiving break, and Beau was looking forward to escaping.
Riding the bus to school with the underclassmen hadn’t been pleasant since Wade stopped offering him rides, but it was familiar. Noisy, too warm and uncomfortably cramped, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He hoped he and Wade might be friends again at some point, but it wouldn’t be this week. The Ritters had left for Kansas City over the weekend and would be spending the holiday with Helen Ritter’s new boyfriend.
At least he didn’t have to ride the bus home. Ker would be waiting at his locker for him.
He shut the case, flipping the latches down with numb fingers, and stood up. Class cleared out quickly today, with the cold temperatures, but Beau wasn’t the only one on the field. He saw Carly struggling to get her hood up in the wind, and Jeff, a trumpet player, was chasing sheet music that had scattered across the turf.
Beau hesitated, torn between wanting to get into the warmth and taking pity on poor Jeff. He wound a scarf around his neck, picked up his instrument case and jogged over to where the thin, dark-haired guy was rushing from spot to spot, snagging white papers.
Beau picked up a stray piece, glancing down to see to his surprise that it wasn’t the music they had been practicing. This had notes handwritten in pencil. Jeff must have composed his own piece, making it all the more precious.
He ran forward to catch another sheet that swooped like a kite through the sky, and Jeff bent to pick up the last of the paper. Beau approached, handing over the few sheets he’d rescued.
“Thanks, man,” Jeff said, his cheeks pink from the cold and his voice winded. “Would have sucked if I lost this.”
“No problem. I saw you composed it yourself?”
“Yeah,” Jeff said with a bashful smile that was cute. “Probably isn’t that good, but it’s mine, you know?”
Someone laid on the horn at the edge of the field, and they both jumped. Jeff looked over, then grinned. “That’s Megan. She’s my ride. I gotta run.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks again!” he called, breaking into another run for the imposing pickup truck waiting on the road. The parking lot was further removed from the field, so Megan must have decided to cruise by to find her wayward boyfriend. It was funny to realize that five-foot-two Megan drove an extended cab pickup. She probably had to jump just to climb into that thing, but it fit her spunky personality.
Beau turned back toward the school, hoofing it across the field. He’d run away from the building rather than toward it to help Jeff collect his sheet music. Now, he was truly freezing as he hurried toward the promise of warmth.
The cold distracted him. That’s what he told himself later. His eyes were trained on the ground, shielding his face from the worst of the wi
nd and watching the ground move beneath his feet, the distance between him and the building shrinking. That Wade was on his mind as he wondered where exactly he was, if he’d already arrived in Kansas City or was on the road, was irrelevant.
He didn’t look over his shoulder for Billy and Jeremy. The gym class hadn’t been out on the track today because of the weather. So, he didn’t see them follow him. He didn’t hear them as they ran, feet pounding the turf, through the beanie tugged over his ears and the hood pulled up over that.
A jerk on the back of his coat pulled him to a stop. Jeremy stepped in front of him, the wind tugging at his hoodie and the strands of his brown hair. He should have been freezing, with no hat, no gloves and nothing but a thin sweatshirt for warmth, but he didn’t seem to notice,
“Hey, Beau, where’s your shadow?” he asked.
Beau glanced from Jeremy to Billy, who stood behind him and to the right, one hand still wrapped tight in the material of Beau’s coat. Billy was dressed slightly more appropriately for the weather, with a jean jacket layered over a hoodie, and his hood tugged up over a ball cap. His blue eyes watched Beau with an intensity that was unnerving.
“What do you guys want?” Beau asked, working to keep his voice neutral. He suspected that betraying his fear would be like giving off the scent of blood to sharks.
Jeremy spoke again. “You’ve been dodging us. What’s your problem?”
Beau did his best to survey the field without being obvious. He peeked out the corner of his eyes in each direction, but he was fairly sure they were alone. The exact scenario he’d worked to avoid the past few weeks.
Heart sinking, he aimed for diversion, knowing it wouldn’t work.
“My problem is that I’m freezing,” he said. “So, I’m headed inside. If you want to chat, you can head in with me. You’re going to freeze without a coat.”
He took a step forward, but Jeremy didn’t move, and Billy didn’t let go of him. He tugged back, bringing Beau to a stop.
Up until now, Jeremy had been doing the talking. When Billy finally spoke, it sent ice skittering through Beau’s veins. He shivered, and not from the cold. Dread coiled in his stomach to hear the vicious hate in Billy’s voice.
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