Room for Recovery

by D. J. Jamison

  “Why would you feel that way?”

  “I knew they had it out for me, and I didn’t report them. Then I let myself be caught alone in a position where they could hurt me. And I didn’t even try to learn self-defense. That was stupid, right?”

  Zane chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “I get what you’re saying, and those are all good steps to take to protect yourself. But that’s victim shaming, you know?”

  Beau shook his head. “No …”

  “Did they assault you because you didn’t know self-defense.”

  “Well, no.”

  “Would reporting them have made them like you?”

  “Definitely not,” Beau said. “I worried they’d retaliate. It wasn’t like I could prove much.”

  “Exactly. It’s true you could have protected yourself better, but it’s impossible to predict when someone might hurt you. Even with every precaution, they may have caught you unaware. You can’t blame yourself, Beau.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Be angry, if you need. Or sad, if you’re not an angry guy like me. Or worried or afraid or, hell, even at peace with it. Whatever you feel is valid.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to get some pie.”

  “So, the therapy session’s over?” Beau asked.

  Zane laughed. “You caught me,” he said. “They just want to help, you know? I know what you’re going through. Sometimes it helps to know you’re not the only one.”

  “I guess it does,” Beau said. “Sorry if I’m being a jerk about it.”

  Zane smirked. “Trust me, I have no room to talk. I was insufferable the first couple of weeks I was home. I did nothing but sleep, wallow and seethe. It wasn’t healthy, but I met someone I could talk to, someone who helped me see a path forward.”

  “You mean Dr. Johnston?”

  Zane smiled. “Yeah. Not that he magically solved everything. No one can do that for you,” he said. “But … talking helps. So, if you want to give me a call or text, just ask X for my number. We’ve been friends forever, so he’s got it.”

  “Thanks,” Beau said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He doubted he’d ever call, but it was nice to know there was someone willing to listen, someone who’d been hurt for who he was. Zane had it worse than him, much worse, because while Beau had no love for Jeremy and Billy, he couldn’t imagine how much worse he’d feel if he had once trusted them and been betrayed by them.

  ***

  Thanksgiving and the rest of the weekend off went similarly, with Gran treating him like he had the flu instead of a bruised face and his mother walking on eggshells around him, her usual quick temper mysteriously missing. He tried to tell himself to enjoy it, but he felt like a stranger in his own house.

  The only things keeping him sane were Wade’s texts and phone calls.

  He received a couple of messages a day, usually bratty one-liners about his mother’s new boyfriend. It was easy to see Wade was uneasy with the idea of Helen getting involved with someone. His father had been gone four years, so plenty of time had passed. But Wade was used to having her to himself at this point, and the last time a man had been at her side, it was his father. So, Beau could understand.

  He tried to respond with a mix of sympathy and reason to keep Wade balanced.

  On Thanksgiving, Wade texted him as he was getting ready for bed that night.

  Wade: Not sure I’ve heard my Mom giggle like that since I was a kid.

  Beau: Is that a bad thing?

  Wade: Guess not

  He followed the text with several grumpy face emoticons that made Beau laugh.

  Beau: Happy Turkey dreams

  Wade: You too

  The next day, Wade texted again.

  Wade: Ugh. Ray just said my mom's eyes are like the blue of the ocean. Seriously, man?

  Beau: He’s right

  Wade: You staring into my mom’s eyes? Something you wanna tell me?

  Beau: No. You have the same eye color

  Beau’s heart went crazy in the lull after his response. He wasn’t sure how Wade would take flattery. Finally, three dots appeared to indicate Wade was typing. A second later, a response came through.

  Wade: You’re as corny as he is.

  Chapter 21

  The Saturday after Thanksgiving, Beau got a text message from Dr. Rollins that Amos Jacobs was stabilizing and moving out of intensive care. Beau wasted no time in going to see him. To his great surprise, his mother let him drive the car. Looked like there were perks to getting beat up.

  He went directly to Amos Jacobs’ room, having gotten the information before he arrived. He was no longer in surgical recovery, but in a general hospital room. He tapped at the door, before stepping inside.

  A small smile formed on Amos’s face when Beau approached the bed. He was missing a lot of the vitality Beau had seen before, but his eyes were clear.

  “You came back,” he said, his voice quieter than Beau had heard during their previous visits.

  “Can’t get rid of me.”

  “Your face …”

  Beau lifted a hand to the bruises, which were transitioning into a kaleidoscope of horrific colors. “I’m fine.”

  “We’ve both been through the ringer.”

  Beau grinned down at him. “Well, you’re obviously a better fighter than me.”

  Amos chuckled, his eyes heavy. “I try.”

  Beau slid his backpack from his shoulder and unzipped it to retrieve the battered copy of Catcher in the Rye. “Would you like me to read again?”

  Amos nodded. “Please.”

  Beau read for a couple hours, continuing even when Amos drifted off. He just wanted to be there with him. But eventually a nurse turned up to send him on his way. Amos was sleeping, so Beau carefully tucked the book under one arm and bent to kiss his cheek.

  “Sweet dreams,” he murmured.

  ***

  Everything seemed brighter after Beau visited Amos.

  He called Wade that night and talked his ear off in his excitement to see Amos awake and communicative.

  “I worried so much about him,” Beau said for the second time. “Thank God, Dr. Rollins followed through and told me when he moved out of ICU. He doesn’t have anyone to visit him, but I’ll go up every day. Maybe even see if he wants to set up an arrangement for visits after he goes home.”

  Wade’s lips twitched. “You’ve already told me this.”

  Beau laughed. “I know, sorry. I’m just so relieved.” He bounced in his bed, where he was sitting cross-legged with a mound of pillows behind him. Wade’s face bounced in and out of the video frame with him, looking patient and amused.

  “I’m happy for you,” Wade said. “But I want to hear more about this, and I quote, ‘gorgeous baby doctor.’ Aren’t you supposed to be a nurse before you hit on the doctors? Or they hit on you? Whatever.”

  Beau felt his cheeks heat. Okay, so he thought Casper Rollins was gorgeous and charming, which he might have mentioned in his torrent of babble, but he hadn’t seen him since that day in ICU. Obviously, the man was too old and sophisticated to have any interest in Beau. Not to mention, Beau was totally gaga for Wade, not that he could tell him that. The motto of the day was friendly.

  It was up to Wade to define how friendly they could be; Beau had to tread carefully about his freak-out over the kiss.

  “Very funny,” he said. “Dr. Rollins is a nice guy. No one’s hitting on anyone.”

  Wade chuckled. “I’m just teasing you. It’s nice to see you so happy about something. Maybe you can introduce me to Amos next week?”

  Beau smiled. “Maybe. I’m going back up tomorrow, so I’ll ask.”

  Shortly after, they said their goodnights, and Beau went to bed with a smile on his face. His conversations and text exchanges with Wade had solidified their friendship, though Ker and Nate remained skeptical after witnessing Wade avoid Beau. They didn’t know the reasons why Wade had suddenly stopped driving Beau to school and back, o
nly that Beau was hurt by it. Still, he had faith they were on the right track again.

  The next day, he woke and did his chores. Sunday was a heavy housework day, so he wasn’t free to return to the hospital until late that afternoon.

  When he arrived, he found the room empty. Beau stared at the stripped-down bed with a frown, then retraced his steps to the nurse’s station. They must have transferred Amos to another room, but he couldn’t imagine why. He hoped he hadn’t returned to the ICU.

  “Where is Amos Jacobs? He was in Room 201 yesterday.”

  “Let me look,” she said, tapping at the keyboard. Her smile faded as she read the screen. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

  Beau’s heart clenched. “He was just here yesterday. He came up from the ICU. He was doing better.”

  Her eyes filled with sympathy. “He died in the night, sweetie. Sometimes it happens. Are you family?”

  Beau backed away, shaking his head. “That can’t be right.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” he said. “No. That’s not how this is supposed to happen. It’s not right.”

  He turned and with trembling fingers called Trent. He picked up after the second ring. “Beau, what’s up?”

  “I came up to see Amos Jacobs, the patient who was in ICU? He was doing better yesterday, and I came to see him again today.”

  “Okay?”

  “He’s not in his room,” Beau choked out.

  “Maybe he was moved.”

  “I asked the nurse, and she said he died. That can’t be right, though. He was doing better.”

  “Beau …”

  “Can you just find out for me?” Beau asked. “Please? Just check again. Maybe there was some kind of mistake. That could happen, right? I just … I need you to check again.”

  “Okay, Beau. I’ll check,” Trent said. “Why don’t you go to the hospital cafeteria and get a coffee. Relax and wait for my call. I’ll find out what I can.”

  ***

  Wade and his family got home Sunday. He unpacked while Trent gave his mother the rundown of the house. He’d watered her precious plants and checked the mail while they were gone.

  Wade carried his duffel to the laundry room, so he could unload it into the washing machine. He paused when he heard Trent say Beau’s name, returning to the kitchen where Trent stood. He was talking to someone on the phone, and he looked worried.

  “What was that about?” Wade asked as Trent disconnected.

  “Sounds like the patient Beau was visiting might have died,” he said.

  “You mean Amos?” Wade asked, his heart sinking as he remembered how excited Beau had been about the man’s recovery.

  “I’m afraid so,” Trent said.

  “This is going to break his heart. How did Beau sound?”

  Trent shook his head. “Pretty upset. I’m going to verify it’s true because Beau is a little wound up, saying it can’t be right. But it’s unlikely the nurse there would have false information.”

  Wade watched and listened as Trent placed another phone call, asked for more information about an Amos Jacobs and then hung up the phone looking grimmer than ever.

  “I better call Xavier,” he said. “Someone should tell Beau in person.”

  “I’ll go,” Wade said.

  Trent shook his head, but Wade grabbed his car keys from the peg by the dining room table. “Cafeteria, right? I’m going.”

  “Okay. But Wade, he may be pretty upset.”

  Wade looked Trent in the eye. “I’ll take care of him. I promise.”

  ***

  Beau was sitting at a cafeteria table, drinking bad coffee, when Wade walked into his line of sight. He straightened in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  Wade pulled out a chair and sat down. “Got home today. Trent was at our house when you called.”

  “It’s bad news, isn’t it?” Beau asked.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Beau nodded, blinking hard. Feeling the start of tears well up, he hid his face in his hands. He was dimly aware of Wade’s chair scraping over the floor and of footsteps. Then he felt the warmth of a hand on the back of his neck.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Wade said. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I have my mom’s car,” Beau said helplessly.

  “We’ll come back for it later.”

  Beau allowed himself to be led to Wade’s car and buckled in. He was still reeling from the news that Amos was really gone. He’d seemed tired but stable the day before, and Beau had taken his move out of ICU as a sign he’d make it.

  He didn’t speak while Wade drove, just stared out at the passing scenery. He was aware Wade was driving toward his side of town, but he wasn’t paying too close attention, so he was surprised when Wade pulled into the scenic outlook along the wooded area behind Beau’s neighborhood.

  “You okay?” Wade asked. “I thought maybe we could take a walk and talk.”

  Beau nodded, reaching for his door handle. Anything was better than going home.

  They walked in silence down a trail that meandered between trees. It was central Kansas, so it was mostly just oaks and elms, their branches barren, and a carpet of brown leaves crunching under their feet.

  While they walked, Beau gathered his thoughts.

  “I braced for it so many times while he was in ICU,” he said finally. “But he was so much better yesterday that I got my hopes up. It never entered my mind he’d go downhill so fast.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wade said, reaching out to hold Beau’s hand. Beau took comfort in the warmth without any of the happiness it might have otherwise given him. Just a day ago, he would have rejoiced at Wade reaching out for his hand, even if it didn’t mean anything more than an offer of comfort.

  “I hardly knew him,” Beau said, his voice breaking. “It shouldn’t hurt this much.”

  “It hurts because you care,” Wade said. “And you care because of the kind of person you are.”

  “What kind is that?”

  “The best kind,” Wade said.

  Beau lost track of how long they walked. Wade let him pour out his grief, his confusion, his anger at the sudden loss of life, offering his presence and understanding as comfort. When Beau had exhausted himself, hollowed out and depressed, he turned to tell Wade they could leave.

  He was surprised to see Wade watching him with an unfamiliar intensity, a look that tugged at something low in Beau’s belly and made him flush with a sudden want for a different kind of comfort.

  “Can I kiss you again?” Beau blurted. “Just, I feel so … and I want— I don’t know. Never mind. Forget I asked.”

  Mortified at himself, he turned quickly, stumbling on a rock and pitching forward. Wade caught him around the waist, his arm a hard bar across Beau’s abdomen, saving him from a fall.

  “Sorry,” Beau gasped, face burning with embarrassment. The remaining bruises throbbed in his face from the head rush.

  Wade pulled Beau back against him, curling his other arm around Beau’s waist and lacing his hands over Beau’s stomach. Then he just held him.

  “You’re okay,” Wade murmured, breath warm against Beau’s neck. “I’ve got you.”

  Beau rested his head on Wade’s shoulder, calming as his body synced up with Wade’s steady breaths. “Thank you.”

  Wade’s arms tightened briefly, before he lifted his hands to Beau’s shoulders and turned him around. “Now, to answer your question …”

  Beau blinked as Wade slid a hand along his jaw.

  “Yes, you can kiss me.”

  Wade lowered his head, bringing their lips together, and Beau sank into the kiss. It was different from their first kiss. There was an added depth to this kiss that their first lacked. It was affectionate and comforting. Sweet.

  Sweet was nice, but Beau needed more than sweet. Right now, still filled with grief and longing, he just wanted the rush of adrenaline and lust. He wanted to feel something besides the sadness that had smothered hi
m since he’d arrived at the hospital.

  Beau clenched his hands in Wade’s shirt and parted his lips, moaning softly as Wade took his invitation to deepen the kiss. Wade’s hands shifted to his hair, his fingers tangling in Beau’s curls, and all along his front, he could feel Wade’s warm body against him.

  Wade pulled back. “I love kissing you.”

  “Then do it again,” Beau said, wrapping a hand around his neck and tugging him back to his mouth.

  Wade kissed him again and again. They kissed until their lips were chapped and Beau started shivering from the cold. They kissed until the sun sank on the horizon and he could no longer see the gold in Wade’s eyelashes.

  He kissed Wade again and again, knowing it might be the last time. But he didn’t care. He’d hold on to Wade while he could.

  ***

  Wade led Beau back to the car when it got too cold to make out in the woods. He hadn’t brought Beau here with the intent to kiss the hell out of him, but he wasn’t sad about it. Beau was grieving, and Wade was willing to offer whatever comfort he could. After their distance, it was no small comfort to him too.

  He was a little concerned about what Beau might expect from him, though. Their friendship had deepened while he was in Kansas City. With the screen between them, he’d let his guard down and opened up to Beau. He’d stopped resisting the urge to banter and flirt, and just enjoyed Beau’s interest. But he didn’t know how well he could do that live and in person, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Beau again.

  Once in the car, Wade started the engine and waited for the air to heat up enough he could blast the heater.

  “So, what now?” Beau asked.

  Wade knew this question was coming, and he still didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.”

  Beau nodded. “You’re not ready to come out.”

  Wade exhaled noisily. “Not really, no.”

  “Can you say it at least? To me?” Beau asked cautiously.