Roll With the Punches [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations ManLove)

by Tymber Dalton

  Once the doctor left, Brandon forced a smile. “Well, guess that’s one way to scare the crap out of us, buddy.”

  “Sorry, Master.”

  Brandon nearly burst out laughing at how Jeff and Stuart both froze in horror and stared at Emma.

  “Guys, it’s okay,” Brandon said. “Don’t panic.”

  “This is another of those things like Kyle’s parents, huh?” she asked, the ghost of a smile finally curving her lips.

  “Yeah,” Brandon admitted.

  She held up her hands, but her smile widened. “It’s okay, Dad. Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  * * * *

  Now reassured that Jeff wasn’t in any immediate danger, and after waiting until Jeff had called his sister and his parents to tell them what was going on, Brandon was finally able to convince Emma it was safe to go home. She had to be up early the next morning for swim practice and the last couple of days of her summer classes.

  Trying to convince Stuart to come home would prove more difficult. He didn’t want to leave Jeff alone, even though Jeff assured him he’d be fine.

  Brandon didn’t have the heart to order him to leave, either.

  Not when he also wanted to stay with Jeff. He sent Emma on ahead to the car with the keys to await them.

  Once it was safe, Jeff rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m not an invalid, okay? I can get up and move around by myself, or call for help from a nurse. I’m hoping whatever they’re going to pump into me knocks me out for the night. Seriously, go home with Master. Please?”

  Stuart looked heartbroken. Brandon knew if Stuart started crying, he might, too. Stuart leaned in and kissed Jeff. “It’s going to be lonely without you in bed with us.”

  “You’ll survive, buddy. Give Master extra snuggles for me.”

  Brandon stepped in to kiss him. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Look, you both have to work tomorrow. Don’t call off because of me. I’m sure Emma will be over here as soon as she’s out of school. I doubt they’ll let me go home that soon anyway. If they do, she can drive me. If not, come visit me after work.”

  “Do you want us to call Leah or June and have them call people to come stay with you?”

  “No. Please, seriously. You heard the doctor—I’m not dying. I don’t want that much attention on me. I feel like shit and don’t want anyone but you guys and the girls around me right now. Just bring me my tablet and some clean clothes tomorrow.”

  Finally, after one last round of hugs and kisses, they made their way down to Brandon’s car, Brandon keeping an arm draped around Stuart’s shoulders the whole way, the shorter man tightly snuggled against him.

  “I wish we could do more to help him,” Stuart said as they walked toward Brandon’s car.

  “I know. Me, too.” He hated feeling helpless. He despised it, whether it was over something Emma was going through, or something one of his boys was going through.

  Although this was the worst they’d had to go through, the scare with the tree falling on Jeff’s old house notwithstanding.

  Emma quietly rode in the back seat, not talking on the way home as Brandon drove.

  “He’s going to be okay, honey,” he said to her.

  “I hate leaving him there alone.”

  “He’s an adult. If he’d wanted one of us to stay with him, he knows all he had to do was say so. Hey, you did good. Thank god you were out there with him and we got him to the hospital fast.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She stared out the window.

  “Did you tell Grace?”

  “I’ve been texting with her. She wants to come visit him tomorrow, if he’s still in there.”

  “See? That’s perfect. You guys can drive there after school.”

  Later, he knocked on her door when she’d retreated to her room after dinner. They’d called Jeff and checked in with him, and he’d eaten a little for dinner and was going to go to sleep early, the strong medicines they were pumping into him via IV making him feel woozy.

  “You all right, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s going to be okay.”

  “I know.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  She let out a snort of aggravation he knew too well. “I feel guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “For getting airlifted off the boat that time. I’m mad that I feel guilty I worried Mom. And then you, when you found out the way you did.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Oookaaay. That’s great personal growth, honey, but not sure I’m tracking.”

  Another snort. “I’m feeling that I no longer hold the moral high ground. That even though I was pissed off, I should have just stuck to my original plan to take the meds, hide them from Goober, and knuckle under.”

  He leaned against her doorway, arms crossed. “That’s sort of water under the bridge, by the better part of a year. It’s just now hitting your conscience?”

  It took her a moment to respond, and when she spoke, her voice sounded quiet, subdued. “I was really scared when I made him smile and saw his face drooping.”

  She set her phone aside, focused on him. “I know I’ve said I love him and Stuart, and I meant it. Like I love Grace’s mom and dad. But that was the first time I realized I love-love them, like I love you. Never loved Pat like this, that’s for sure. I was…scared. Really scared that maybe he was going to die. I was scared that one of my dads was going to die right there in front of me.”

  He walked over and sat next to her. “That’s good though, right? I mean, not the possibly dying part. The how much you love them part.”

  She met his gaze. “How sad is it that, right now, I think I love Jeff and Stuart more than I love Mom? Does that make me a horrible person?”

  He sighed, finally connecting the dots. Pulling her in for a hug, he rested his chin on top of her head. “No, sweetheart. That doesn’t make you horrible. It makes you human.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jeff spent two nights in the hospital, being pumped full of IV drugs and having more blood drawn and tests run.

  It was his first hospital stay, and as he’d heard, it was anything but restful. He felt more exhausted when they’d let him go than when he’d been rushed there via ambulance on Sunday.

  When he was discharged early Tuesday afternoon, Emma and Grace were there visiting him, and Emma went over everything with the nurses, including the medication schedule, before bundling him up in her car.

  He didn’t even try to adult or argue with her. She and Grace seemed to be doing a pretty good job on his behalf, and he was too tired and hurt too much to engage adulting mode. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep in his own bed and not be awakened every few minutes to have his vitals taken, blood drawn, or new medications added to his IV pump.

  He was being discharged with several prescriptions to take, and a recommendation for a strong probiotic to help keep his gut from getting overrun due to the medicines, and with a follow-up appointment for next week. He’d already called work and taken the rest of the week off, with notification that he’d likely need more time after that. Right now, he knew he couldn’t even drive as horrible as he felt, much less turn wrenches for eight to ten hours. The worst of the pain had eased a little, and his face was almost completely back to normal, so that was progress.

  Still, he felt like shit. Some of the medication he was on upset his stomach. Deep joint pain, fatigue, and mental fuzziness left him feeling like a shell of himself.

  On their way home, Emma stopped by the drugstore to get his prescriptions filled and to get the over-the-counter supplements, including making him buy a pill caddy to organize everything.

  He knew giving in was far easier than trying to convince her otherwise. She was her father’s daughter.

  And he loved her for it.

  At home, Emma and Grace practically smothered him with attention before he retreated to the master bedroom on the totally real pretense of napping, until Stuart got home and was able to g
ently intercede for him and help get dinner ready and distract Emma and Grace.

  Except Jeff didn’t feel like eating, even though they’d made his favorite meatloaf for him. Then Brandon arrived, fortunately. He helped further divert Emma and Grace until Emma had to take her home after dinner, giving Jeff some breathing room.

  “I love them,” he told Brandon, “but damn. Em makes you look lazy by comparison.”

  Brandon arched an eyebrow at him. “How so?”

  “I mean…intense. Honestly? The first few boys she brings home? We’re going to be keeping her from kicking their asses, not the other way around.”

  Brandon climbed into bed with him, gently cuddling him close. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Jeff closed his eyes as he rested his head against Brandon’s chest. “Go back in time and forbid me from going to help Iris and Sylvie, please?”

  Brandon kissed the top of his head. “Yeah, sorry. I thought I was being a good guy by letting you go.”

  “Me, too.” He hated feeling like this. Haaated it. Weak and wimpy, and like his life was out of control in the bad ways. “Sorry I didn’t go through our greeting when you got home, Master.” They had two different ones, a vanilla one they could do if Emma and Grace were around, and a formal one if the men were alone.

  “Hey, no. You don’t feel good. I specifically told you guys that’s a rule, that if you’re sick, it’s a default exemption.” Brandon cupped Jeff’s cheek. “I know you love what we do, but I love you guys. That means your health and well-being come first.”

  * * * *

  Brandon knew Jeff felt horrible, but having a definitive diagnosis and plan of treatment didn’t make Brandon feel any less helpless.

  His boy felt bad.

  And he couldn’t fix it for him.

  Even worse, Stuart had quickly whispered a briefing to Brandon upon his arrival, outside of earshot of the girls or Jeff, to update him about Jeff’s mindset.

  “You’re staying home from work for the rest of the week. Right?”

  It wasn’t a question, even though he’d phrased it as such. While he’d told Jeff and Stuart that he wouldn’t interfere with their work, if Jeff didn’t take care of himself, Brandon reserved the right to step in and put his foot down.

  “Probably next week, too, depending on how I’m doing.”

  Brandon relaxed a little. “Good boy.”

  Jeff’s body relaxed against his. “I’m sorry, Master.”

  “Stop apologizing. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”

  Stuart appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Is he still apologizing?”

  “Yep.”

  Stuart joined them in bed, stretching out behind Jeff, trying to be careful not to jostle him. “I warned you I’d rat you out to Master if you didn’t knock that shit off.”

  “You need to spend the next several days resting and taking it easy,” Brandon said. “You scared the hell out of us. Let the medicine work, and give your body a chance to heal. That is an order.”

  “I guess I’m outnumbered, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Brandon told him. “And that’s before you figure in Em and Grace. Because even though school’s back in session in a few weeks, you can bet they’ll be happy to stick around here and keep an eye on you for me if I ask them to.”

  He stroked the back of Jeff’s head, his blond hair, trying to be gentle, not wanting to hurt him. “We love you. Your only job right now is to try to get better.”

  “What if I don’t get better?” he quietly asked. “They said there’s a chance I might not. That some people don’t improve.”

  “Stop it. Stressing out won’t help. The doctors told you it takes weeks, sometimes, to see a drastic improvement. Right?”

  “I can’t afford to be out of work for weeks.”

  “You can if I tell you to. Right now, all I want you to do is heal.”

  “I can’t take weeks off from work.”

  Brandon shifted position so he could cradle Jeff’s face in his hands. “Who’s my good boy?” he quietly asked.

  Jeff’s sweet hazel eyes stared up at him. “Me, Master,” he softly said.

  “We love you. All that matters is you getting better. My orders to you, right now, are to stop worrying about finances. We’ll figure that part out. If one of us got diagnosed with cancer, would you be worried about us working, or worried about our health first?”

  Jeff closed his eyes, pulling Stuart’s arm around him, nuzzling his lips against Brandon’s palm. “Health, Master,” he quietly said.

  “Listen, you stubborn Alpha sub,” Stuart gently teased. “I’m not a Top, but I might go toppy on you if you don’t listen to him.”

  “Uncle,” Jeff said. Then a sad sigh escaped him. “I don’t even have the energy to argue with you.”

  “Can we get you something to eat?” Stuart asked. “Soup? Anything?”

  “I drank some Gatorade earlier. I just don’t have much appetite. The medicine is upsetting my stomach.”

  “All the more reason you need to eat something,” Brandon said. “Just a few bites. Please?”

  “Maybe some mashed potatoes. No gravy.”

  Stuart practically levitated off the bed to go get it for him. Meanwhile, Brandon carefully shifted again, cradling Jeff against him in the crook of his arm so he could feather his lips over his forehead. “I’m sorry the meds make you feel crappy.”

  “Let’s just hope they work. The next step is them sticking another line in me, a medicine port, I think they called it, and feeding me more IV drugs. I definitely won’t be able to work if they have to do that.”

  “Stop. We’ll be okay. I was paying the bills here before you two moved in. With me and Stuart working, we’ll be okay. Worst-case, you have to stop working, and we file for disability for you. It’s not like we’ll lose the house or anything.”

  “That’s not comforting, Brandon.”

  “It’s realistic. This is not the end of the world. This could have been so much worse than it was.”

  “Again, not comforting.”

  He pressed a long, gentle kiss to the center of his forehead. “I don’t expect you to see the upside to any of this right now. But do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then trust me when I tell you that this isn’t a problem for us. Our first concern is your health.”

  * * * *

  The next morning, Jeff lay in bed long after Brandon and Stuart had left for work. They’d put him in the middle so they wouldn’t have to climb over him and risk hurting him when their alarms went off.

  Every part of Jeff’s body ached. He really didn’t want to get up, even to take his meds. He knew it’d hurt.

  The bad kind of pain that left him physically wrecked, not the good kind of pain that left him charged up and frisky.

  Finally, he dragged himself out to the kitchen. Stuart had left him a note propped next to the pill caddy Emma had painstakingly set up for him yesterday afternoon.

  TAKE THEM. Emma and Grace will be here later this morning after her swim training. Let them take care of you. Love you :)

  Jeff poured himself a glass of water, opened the pill caddy compartment to get the meds out, and started swallowing pills and capsules one at a time. He’d planned on cooking dinner for everyone tonight, but the way he felt right now, he wasn’t sure if he’d have the strength to do more than make it out to the couch to take a nap by the time he finished taking his meds.

  I hate my body.

  He was thirty-eight and felt like a goddamned old man. Going back to work would be a real fucking bitch if the medication didn’t kick in and start making a massive difference in the next couple of days.

  If the doctors would even clear him to go back to work.

  Or if Brandon and Stuart would let him go back to work.

  Except, right now, he felt worthless, like he was a mooch by not contributing to their household expenses. He didn’t care that Brandon and Stuart had told him not to wo
rry about that.

  He worried about it.

  Jeff ended up back in bed after he forced himself to eat a small bowl of cereal. As he dozed, he was aware of Emma and Grace coming home at some point before noon. Emma sent him a text to see if he needed anything, but he assured her all he wanted to do was sleep, and that he’d try to eat a little soup for dinner later.

  He turned up the TV, which he’d left on all morning, so he wouldn’t be able to hear them.

  About an hour later, he realized he was overdue to take his afternoon meds. Forcing himself up and out of bed, he paused at the sliders on his way to the bathroom. They looked out onto the lanai and there had been a few nights where the three of them had snuck out there to skinny dip or fool around in the pool after Emma had gone to bed. Normally, they left the blinds closed if they weren’t home, even though they had window tint to help repel afternoon sunlight and heat. Today, he’d cracked them open earlier to give him enough light to see by without having to leave a lamp on.

  At first, he wasn’t processing what he was seeing beside the pool. Emma and Grace were out there—not unusual. Grace’s parents didn’t have a pool.

  The girls were stretched out on the lanai deck at the edge of the pool, in a shady spot, side by side on beach towels.

  Kissing.

  And not innocent little affectionate, friendly kind of pecks, either.

  They were snogging.

  And that was Grace’s hand up the bottom of Emma’s—

  Whoa.

  Not even bothering to pull the vertical blinds out of the way first, he unlocked and yanked the sliders open. “A-hem.”

  Parent mode: fully engaged.

  Emma startled and rolled back, losing her balance and ending up in the pool with a splash.