by Sierra Riley
“He’s going to be okay,” Jake assured him again, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Excuse me,” a voice said from a few seats down.
Russ opened his eyes to find an elderly woman leaned forward in her chair, looking at them. He couldn’t really read her expression, but he realized Jake was still holding his hand. Jake let go, taking his warmth with him, and Russ tried not to scowl at the woman.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say it’s so sweet how you support your husband. If my husband was half as caring as you, well. We’d still be married,” she said with a grin.
Russ quirked a smile at that, and it only grew broader when he saw Jake was blushing. Practically to the tips of his ears. He wished he had the balls to take a picture. That would be one for the mantel.
He reached for Jake’s hand again, knowing exactly how he could make that blush even more prominent.
“Half the time I think he’s the only reason I don’t end up just crawling back under the covers every day.”
As much as he was hoping to tease Jake, that was actually true. Russ felt an odd sort of tingle come over him as he realized it. He wasn’t sure how he would have handled the past year without Jake.
“He’s exaggerating,” Jake mumbled.
“Humble, too!” The woman said, and Russ laughed.
“Yeah. Don’t let him fool you. I’d be lost without him.”
He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to sell it so hard, but he lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed Jake’s. His friend’s eyes widened, and his blush grew even deeper. Totally worth it, even if Russ felt the oddest flutter in his chest afterward.
Once Ryan was home—once all of this was behind them—maybe Russ could finally take a moment to figure out what the hell was going on with him and Jake.
Jake opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the doors to the hospital opened again and a nurse came to fetch them. Russ said goodbye to his accomplice and tried to tamp down the strange feeling that still lingered. This time, it wasn’t that hard. It was all too easy for him to fixate on Ryan again.
And it was even worse when he saw him in the recovery room, his right eye bandaged, a hint of some yellow liquid staining his cheek. Ryan was still hooked up to monitors, but he looked a little paler than before. His hair was a little damp, his brow clammy.
His left eye, half-lidded, wasn’t focused on anything in particular. Even when Ryan managed to turn his head to look at him and Jake, it was clear he was still pretty out of it.
“How you feeling, bud?”
“Tired.”
“You’ll feel that way for a while until all the medicine gets out of your system,” the nurse attending to him said. She looked toward Russ and offered a smile. “He woke up just fine. No nausea. We’ve already given him something for the pain. The doctor will come by in a bit and talk to you, but we’ll get him into a room as soon as we can, and as long as his vitals stay good, we’ll send him home with you later tonight.”
It was the best news Russ had gotten all day. He let out a shaky breath, nodding.
It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.
19
Jake
Jake had spent most of the last twenty-four hours trying to talk himself out of going to Russ’s house.
He didn’t want to smother him, or constantly hover over him and make him feel like he wasn’t good enough on his own. He had every confidence that Russ could care for Ryan without his help, and, considering everything that had happened, father and son probably needed that time to bond.
But it was Sunday evening, and he didn’t have work to distract him. He’d already finished the reports he needed to fill out. He’d made calls to check in with his patients and had even managed to catch a football game on TV.
If he was a well-adjusted single man, he might have gone out; tried to get his mind on someone who wasn’t Russ. Even if it was just for a quickie in his car. But he wasn’t particularly well-adjusted. Or single. The wedding band still glimmered on his finger. He hadn’t dared to take it off since Ryan’s surgery.
As the hours ticked by, he more or less waited for Russ to call. It was pathetic. He could say he kept himself busy. He did clean out his DVR and Netflix queue. And he picked a few new books to read, but he stumbled through one in a distracted haze, finding himself thinking about how Ryan’s pain level was, whether the anesthetic had worn off, and if he was having any trouble with nausea.
He wondered about Russ, too, of course. His friend had been in rough shape the day before, and he doubted he’d taken care of his own needs since. But Jake hadn’t wanted to intrude. The little incident in the waiting room had told him clearly that this wasn’t as low-key as Russ had wanted it to be. As nice as it had been to feel Russ’s affection, he knew it was just to get a rise out of him.
It was better for them both if he let Russ have a little time alone with Ryan.
And yet when Russ finally called around nine, he didn’t hesitate. He practically bent back his finger jamming it so hard into the phone. Hissing as pain flared into his hand, he used his middle finger to navigate the slider and put the phone on speaker.
“Hey Jake, you busy?”
He bit back an immediate answer, not wanting to sound like he’d been sitting around waiting for this call. Even if he had.
“Not really. What’s up?”
He heard the rattle of a pill bottle in the background, and Russ let out a frustrated sigh. “They sent me home with pain medication, and it’s just been a clusterfuck, man. He’s in pain. I know he is. But I can’t get him to take the pills. He doesn’t like swallowing them, and I’m pretty sure they don’t make Percodan in liquid form.”
Russ sounded frustrated; reaching the end of the rope that was barely tethering him to sanity.
“And when he does take them, they just knock him out completely. Are they supposed to do that? Should he even be taking these?”
“It’s most likely in a very low dosage. Percodan is strong stuff, but I’m sure he’s fine. As for getting him to swallow them—”
“He’s already thrown up twice. I had to get him a new little ring pillow since I couldn’t wash the other one. Jesus. I just… I’m glad he’s home, but I feel like I’m fucking everything up.”
All right. That was the breaking point. He couldn’t just listen to Russ wallow in self-doubt anymore.
“I’ll be there in ten. Hang tight. We’ll figure it out together.”
* * *
When he let himself into Russ’s house, the downstairs area was quiet. The pilot light was on in the kitchen, but nothing else. Jake glanced toward the stairs, unsure if he should announce himself. He settled for chancing it, and the stairs creaked beneath him.
He heard retching as he reached the top, and his heart jumped into his throat. His chest constricted even further when he rounded the corner to Ryan’s room. Ryan looked absolutely miserable, and Russ wasn’t faring much better.
His friend looked up at him with a grateful little smile, taking the basin into the bathroom. Jake knelt by the edge of the bed where Ryan was propped, a pillow cradling his head.
“Sorry to hear you’re not feeling good.”
“It hurts a lot,” Ryan said, sounding almost on the verge of tears.
No wonder Russ looked so rough. Just a few moments of this and Jake already felt absolutely helpless, even though he knew exactly what to do. He could only imagine how Russ felt.
“We’re going to make sure it stops hurting real soon. Just hang in there.”
Russ came back out of the bathroom, flipping the light off. The bedroom fell dark, with only the light from the TV giving him any hope of seeing. Not that the TV helped Ryan very much, since he was currently lying face down, his forehead against the edge of the donut pillow. Russ must have just turned it on so he’d have some sound to help distract him.
“Thanks for coming by,” Russ said quietly. He ran a
hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “I feel like the biggest fucking failure. My kid’s in pain, Jake. And I can’t get him to take his medicine.”
“It’ll be okay, I promise. Do you have any ice cream?”
Russ’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, in the freezer. Not sure this is something that can be fixed with ice cream, though.”
“Just trust me.”
Jake went back downstairs and found a carton of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. It was a little soft, thankfully, and would work well for his purposes. He dished out a small bowl and brought it upstairs along with a spoon and a little glass bottle of olive oil.
Russ gave him a quizzical look, but Jake just moved everything to the dresser. “Got his pills?”
“Yeah,” Russ said, handing him the bottle.
Jake took a look at the label. It was a low-dose, generic form of Percocet. Not a huge supply. Just enough to get Ryan through the first few days while his eye healed. Taking out one of the pills, he put it on top of the dresser and then carefully crushed it with the bottle of olive oil.
“Do I even want to know how you learned to do that?”
“Have to get creative when working with kids,” he said with a smile.
He scooped the powder into the bowl, then mixed it around in the chocolate ice cream until the white powder was gone. The medication might have a bitter taste to it, but the sweetness of the ice cream should overpower that. At least, that’s what Jake was hoping for.
“Think you can take a few bites of ice cream for me, Ryan?”
With Russ’s help, Ryan sat up. A bed tray was placed underneath him, and though it was slow going, he did actually eat almost all of the ice cream, just leaving behind the soupy bits at the end. Relief flooded Jake, and a bit of selfish pride when he saw Russ’s stunned reaction.
“It actually worked.”
“If he starts to taste it in the ice cream, you can put half a teaspoon of honey in with it. Should mask the taste completely.”
“You’re a damn miracle worker,” Russ said, giving him a grateful smile that made his heart flip in his chest.
He didn’t feel like a miracle worker, but soon Ryan was sleeping again, aided by the medication. Russ sat in a chair beside his bed, gently stroking his hair. Jake took up residence on the other side, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Ryan’s back until even he started to be lulled into a doze.
“The doctor said he’s going to have two weeks of this shit,” he said, gesturing to the donut pillow. “How am I supposed to make a ten-year-old kid keep his head parallel to the ground for two weeks?”
Jake frowned at that. Ryan was a pretty active kid. This would tether him to the bed, more or less. With maybe a few walks through the house, all while staring at his shoes. Dr. Patel had explained why it was important. The gas they put in his eye needed to help reattach the retina properly. But that was a tall price for a kid to pay.
“We’ll figure something out.”
Russ put his head in his hands, nodding. It gave Jake the chance to really look at him. His friend still wore the same clothes from the hospital. His hair was a mess, sticking up all over. His beard had grown in even fuller. He had bags under his eyes and lines on his face that made him look ten years older than he actually was.
He was in rough shape, and Jake suspected it was rougher than what he could see.
“Have you eaten anything yet?”
“Yeah,” Russ said offhandedly. “Sometime this morning. Or last night, maybe. I don’t remember.”
Jake pressed his lips together into a thin line. That wasn’t going to fly. Standing from his chair, he moved toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?”
“To fix you something, because I know you won’t do it yourself.”
Russ reached out for him, and Jake’s arm tingled where they touched. Damn it. The stupidest things always set him off.
“Jake, come on. I was just going to fix a sandwich or something. You don’t have to do that.”
“Too late,” he said, gently removing himself from Russ’s grip.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Russ grab a baby monitor. A soft smile touched his lips. It looked old enough to be the one he’d used ten years ago, right after Ryan was brought home from the hospital. He was obviously using it now as a way to hear when Ryan woke up and needed him if he was in another room.
“I’m serious, man. I can handle basic human functions.”
“I know you can handle it, I just also know you aren’t prioritizing it,” he said, and Russ didn’t have an answer to that.
They both went downstairs, where Jake took stock of what was available. He liked cooking. There was something about the process of creating a meal out of nothing that was satisfying to him, even if he definitely wasn’t any kind of gourmet chef.
Opening up Russ’s pantry, he laughed. “Jesus, it’s bachelor central in here. Like an endless wall of cereal and Ramen.”
Jake felt a pang of regret even as he said it. They were eating that way because of their financial situation. He glanced to Russ, hoping his friend wouldn’t take offense. But Russ just smirked at him.
“I know for a fact you’ve lived on worse.”
Very true. “Well, while I’m here you’re at least getting one balanced meal.”
He grabbed fresh vegetables and some meat he could thaw in the microwave. He passed on the carbs, knowing they’d probably just make Russ crash later, and doubled up on the vegetables, cooking a pretty simple dinner for them both: seared pork chops, summer squash, and zucchini.
“Fuck, that smells amazing.”
“Garlic. That’s the secret to everything,” he said, turning to toss a grin at Russ.
Only Russ wasn’t across the room, sitting at the table patiently like he had been a moment ago. He’d gotten up, approaching the stove presumably to look over Jake’s shoulder. Now they were just inches away from each other, and Jake’s breath caught in his throat, his mouth suddenly turning dry. He could practically feel the heat of Russ’s body mingling with his own. Could smell the subtle hint of the shampoo Russ used, along with the gentle smell of sweat.
It shot through Jake like a drug, lighting his veins on fire. He stared at Russ, and for a moment, Russ stared back at him. Jake didn’t breathe. He couldn’t. He lost his ability to even think when Russ seemed to drift closer to him.
He expected Russ to come to his senses at any moment; for him to clear his throat, murmur something incoherent, and then spend the rest of the evening not looking at him.
But instead, Russ’s lips crushed to his. A sound halfway between a gasp and a moan caught in Jake’s throat, and he couldn’t seem to catch up to the present moment. Russ was kissing him. Not just kissing him, but savaging his mouth like a man starved. At Russ’s deep, needy groan, though, Jake finally came to his senses.
Or slipped deeper into the abyss, because he kissed Russ back. The spoon he’d used to stir in the garlic was forgotten, with Jake only distantly aware of the fact that it clattered to the floor. He clutched at Russ’s shoulders, and Russ’s arms moved around his waist. Before he could even think about where they were, Russ’s thigh pressed into him, and Russ used his weight to push him back against the fridge.
Magnets dug into his back, but Jake didn’t care. Russ’s tongue pressed insistently at the seam of his lips, and Jake opened to him easily, moaning as Russ delved inside.
One of Jake’s hands threaded into Russ’s thick, wild hair as the kiss deepened. There was no mistaking the desire; the desperation that wound its way through every aspect of that moment, from the way Russ’s lips bruised his, to the way his own hips rose off of the fridge, pressing into the hard front of Russ’s body.
Harder than even Jake expected. He could feel the ridge of Russ’s erection straining against his jeans, and a whimper caught in his throat. Never in a million years would he have expected this. He had no idea what might happen, he only knew he didn’t want it to end.
But a
s he drew in a breath through his nose, he caught the scent of burning meat. Jake’s eyes flew open, and somehow he managed to tear his lips away from Russ’s, trying to ignore Russ’s little growl of protest as it sent a rush of blood pumping straight to his groin.
“The food’s burning,” he managed, his words shaky and breathless.
Russ looked a little bewildered, but understanding finally lit in his eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Jake said lamely, instant feeling the loss of Russ’s presence as he stepped away.
His body still ached as he tried to save the food, getting two plates ready. Russ stayed near the fridge; Jake could feel his presence, his warmth even from a few feet away.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way,” Russ said, his voice roughened by desire.
Jake couldn’t control the shiver that overtook him. God, if he could record that sound and play it on loop, he would never get anything done. As it was, he fumbled through the silverware drawer, dropping a fork three times.
“…For what to happen?”
He wasn’t trying to play coy. He was just still stuck in a state of complete and utter disbelief.
“Come on, man. I can’t be the only one who felt something at the wedding.”
Jake’s gaze snapped up to Russ’s at that. There wasn’t any hint of mischief in his eyes. The corner of his lip wasn’t upturned in a playful grin. He just stared back at Jake with the utmost sincerity.
Was this really happening?
And was he really on the verge of admitting his best-kept secret?
“You weren’t.”
Russ was quiet for a moment, and Jake had the chance to set the table with their plates. One of his hands still shook, and it was an effort not to drop anything, but at least it gave him something to focus on aside from the fact that he could still taste Russ on his tongue.
“That bet in college… I would’ve gone through with it, you know.”
A fork clattered against the plate, dropping uselessly from Jake’s hand. Russ’s voice was a deep rumble, and though he was still braced against the fridge, Jake could practically feel the man’s hot breath on the back of his neck. His cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants as images of Russ on his knees before him sprang to mind.