by Sean Michael
Ralph kept eating—there wasn’t much that put him off his food, not even the tension of having a very unhappy man sitting at the table.
Jean looked back and forth, a little pursed look on his face. “So. Benj. Do you have a sweet tooth?”
“Oh, I do.” Benj nodded. “I’m a bit of a gourmand when it comes to sweets.”
“Yes? You will have to spend time with me, then. I love to search, to find new recipes.” Jean turned that thousand-watt smile on Benj. Lucky man.
Benj smiled back, seeming to open like a flower under the kind attention. “If I wouldn’t be in the way, that would be great.”
Ralph grinned. When Jean found a cause, he made it his priority. Benj wouldn’t be in the way.
“In the way? No. No, never. We can sample say-so and doberge and pecan pie. Mmm.”
“Well, I know what pecan pie is.” Oh, Benj was a pretty one when he smiled, eyes twinkling.
“You’ll learn all the others and teach me more.”
“It sounds like fun, Jean. Thank you.” Benj turned to Brett again, still smiling. “There, when we go home, I might be able to cook you all sorts of desserts.”
“Going to make me fat and lazy?” Brett’s words were harsh, but the smile and wink he gave Benj were promising.
Benj’s smile grew, his laugh soft. “Oh, I can think of some ways to make sure the fat stays away.”
Ralph chuckled. “So can I. Trust me, no one’s getting fat on my watch.”
“No, no. My Ralph, he is ver’ inventive in his exercises.”
Ralph hummed softly, eyes on Jean’s trim form. There certainly wasn’t any extra fat on his man, despite the taste tests.
Brett’s lips quirked. “I’m sure he is.”
Wow, that was almost a grin from the dour man. Ralph smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough, Brett. We’ll get started tomorrow. I’m inventive and exhausting.” He winked. “Isn’t that right, Jean?”
“I don’t know, cher ’tit chou. I don’t feel exhausted.”
Benj giggled softly, looking delighted. He’d been glancing between Ralph and Jean, and it appeared he was putting it together.
Jean’s laugh joined with Benj’s, and Brett watched, a tired, bittersweet look on his face.
“So, Brett,” Ralph said, “I’ll show you to your rooms after dessert. In the meantime, do you have any questions?”
“What’s your experience with AC injuries?” Blunt. To the point. Impressive.
“About a third of our clients coming through here have shoulder-joint injuries. And we’ve had good success.” He leaned forward. “I’m not going to give you any guarantees, Brett. That would be foolish. But I can promise you that you’ll get the best care available in the country, and that if you work as hard as you need to, this place is your best shot at being able to play again. And if you can’t, then we’ve got the tools to help you with that too.”
“If I can’t, there’s nothing here I need.”
Benj started fluttering, smoothing Brett’s napkin and touching his hand, his arm.
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Ralph suggested.
“You want to come back with me, petit? I have a dessert to serve.” Jean stood, hand held out to Benj.
“Oh, I. Brett?” Benj petted Brett’s hand.
Ralph answered before Brett could. “Go ahead, Benj. I’m sure Brett has more questions. We’ll be fine.”
“Go on, baby. It’s cool.”
Jean wrapped a single arm around Benj, chattering all the way toward the kitchen.
“So was he asking your permission or worried about leaving you alone?” Ralph couldn’t resist asking.
“You’d have to ask him. What’s the first thing on my schedule tomorrow?”
“Breakfast.” He winked and then sobered. “You’ll see me, and I’ll go over your medical records with you, do some tests on your shoulder, see what your range of movement is. I’ll likely hook you up to the electricity while I start putting together a therapy routine.”
Brett nodded. “When will you know whether you can help?”
“Well, if I can’t do anything for you, that should be apparent right off the bat. How much success we have with any course of action will take longer to calculate, because only time will tell, yeah?” He leaned forward. “Time and commitment to the program—the whole program. You’ll need to work with all of us and follow our instructions. That includes Jean as well as those of us with letters behind our names.”
“I’m here until it’s worthless.” Brett sighed, nodded. “I know how to work.”
“Good man.” Ralph nodded. If Brett wanted it badly enough, he’d do the work he needed to.
Ralph grinned as he heard Jean and Benj coming back. “Ah, I think our dessert is coming. My favorite.”
“I’d really just like a drink, honestly. I’m tired.” Brett wasn’t whining, wasn’t being nasty. Just… exhausted.
“Sure. Coffee? Tea? Some Ovaltine or warm milk?”
One eyebrow rose. “Whiskey, preferably. Although I can drink scotch.”
“We don’t keep alcohol for clients.”
Benj slid into his chair as Jean served plates of beignets covered in powdered sugar.
“None of the hooch here, man. No, no. It’s bad for you. Bad for healing.” Jean shook his head, but Benj looked a little pale.
“I’ll provide my own.”
“No,” Ralph said. “You heard the man. It’s bad for you, bad for healing.”
They didn’t necessarily run the place dry, but the bottle was the first place for people to hide.
Brett’s lips tightened. “No one said anything about me not having a drink now and then.”
“No, I imagine now and then won’t hurt anything. So let’s say Sundays, when Jean doesn’t cook?” He turned to his lover. “What do you think, babe?”
“One or two, but no more. It’s poison, and they build and build inside you.”
“There you go, Brett. A drink or two on Sundays. You see? We’re all about compromise and building a program to work with you.” Ralph knew that wasn’t how Brett was going to see it, but it was for the best.
“I’m going to take a walk,” Brett said. “Work off my supper. Benj, stay here and enjoy the dessert. Save me one.”
Then Brett was up. Gone. Out the door.
Benj blinked in the direction Brett had gone, hands opening and closing. “Oh.” He bit his lip and looked down at the beignets.
Ralph rumbled, fighting the urge to go after the man and knock some sense into him.
Jean clucked softly, reached out to pat Benj’s hand. “The strong ones, they hate being weak, yes? It eats at them.”
Benj nodded. “It’s eating him alive. This place is our last hope.”
“Oh, we’ve dealt with guys like Brett in the past, Benj.” Ralph smiled. Jean was good with the hand patting, with helping the spouses find their footing as well. “He’ll come around. Especially when we start seeing some results from the physio and the diet changes.”
“And you, yeah? You should not have to face it all alone, oui? You should have a bon ami comme moi to help.” Dear Jean.
Benj turned his hand and squeezed Jean’s briefly. “Thank you. He’s a good man. This has just been so hard on him—not being able to do what he was made to do.”
“It will ease. Things need to, yeah? For both of you.” Jean nodded and smiled. “Until then? Eat.”
“We’ve both been off our food,” admitted Benj, digging into the beignet, laughing as he got powder all over his fingers.
Ralph grinned. There was nothing like good food to help with the healing.
Jean hooted. “I’ll fix that, won’t I? Good food. Good juice. Good sunshine, non? We’ll fix that.”
“I wish it was all that simple.” There was a look of hope in Benj’s eyes, though, that hadn’t been there before. “So you two are together?”
Ralph nodded and smiled at his Jean. They were indeed.
“Th
is is a good place, you know? Lagniappe, my mama would say.”
“Lagniappe?” Benj asked around his beignet.
Ralph munched on his own beignet. He was going to have to work out tomorrow because he was going to have a second and maybe even a third.
“Uh… special, you know? Like thinking you buy a dozen cookies, and the lady, she gives you an extra?”
Benj chuckled. “So you’re the extra cookie, Jean?”
Ralph laughed, good and long. Oh, he liked this Benj, with the sweet eyes and the growly man. Yes, he did.
“There!” Jean exclaimed. “There we are. We understand each other. I? Am the extra cookie.”
“No wonder I’m so fond of dessert.” Ralph winked at his Jean, making Benj giggle a little more, a light flush on his cheeks.
“Oh ho! He is a wicked one.” Jean laughed, including Benj in the joke. Ralph saw Brett outside the window behind Benj, looking in.
Benj was still laughing, nodding. “He is.”
Ralph wondered if Brett would come in, drawn to the laughter, or if it would drive him away. Come on, man, he thought. Show me where your head is.
Brett watched for another minute, then turned away, heading down toward the lake.
Ralph grunted and got up. “Jean, will you show Benj to his rooms, help him with his bags?”
“Of course, cheri. Come, I’ll give you the tour as we go. Tell you all the house’s secrets.”
Confident that his Jean would take care of Benj, Ralph went out to find Brett. There was no reason he couldn’t begin his therapy tonight.
Chapter Two
WELL, AT least Benj was having fun.
Christ, twenty years of working it, practicing, fighting, and one line drive tore up his shoulder and sidelined him. Fuck. Duke and Frankie from the team’s front office were being decent about it, but he could feel the popping, the tugging. One season. He needed one more season for his contract, then he could retire. Retire at the top of his fucking game.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Brett pulled a flask out of his pocket and drank, wandering around the edge of the lake.
“I thought you said you were willing to work with us.” The voice came from behind him. Ralph. The therapist.
“I thought you said we were starting in the morning.”
Ralph chuckled. “All right. You can finish that flask off tonight. But I’m not going to be babying you if you’ve got a hangover in the morning.”
“I don’t get hung over.” He sighed, watching the sunset over the water. “I didn’t mean to call you away from dessert.”
They’d all looked happy.
“Oh, my gut doesn’t need more than one beignet, and I would have eaten another two at least if I’d stayed. I’m sorry you didn’t join us. Your man was missing you.”
“I was afraid he’d be lonely here. His clients will miss him.”
“Did you consider leaving him at home?”
“For five months?” For the holidays? For their birthdays? No. No, he hadn’t.
“So you’d be surprised to know that a number of our clients have wanted to attend without their partners?” Ralph was looking out at the setting sun. “I think it’s a good sign that you didn’t.”
“I know he’s unhappy. I didn’t force him. I wouldn’t.” He knew that he was a disappointment to Benj. He couldn’t help it.
“Why do you think he’s unhappy, Brett?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t he be?” Asshole.
“Oh, I think it’s very natural that he’s unhappy. I just don’t believe he’s unhappy for the reasons you think.” Ralph looked amused.
Brett swallowed his growl, drowning it in another drink. He didn’t need some man he’d just met making judgments on him and Benj, laughing at him.
“Do you see how you’re hiding behind your drink? You’ll feel better after you’ve let out some of that emotion you’re pushing down.”
“I thought you were a physical therapist, not a shrink.” He couldn’t hide the wince, the frown.
“Oh, I don’t have a headshrinking degree, but I know people, and I’ve worked with a lot of athletes, Brett. I think I know the breed.” Ralph’s arm went around his shoulders, turned him back toward the old farmhouse. “I’ll bet your man is starting to wonder if I pushed you in.”
“More wondering whether I picked a fight.” He’d picked more than one in the last six months. More than a handful, even.
Ralph actually grinned at him. “You struck me as a fighter.”
“Did I? The last one made the news. Got me sent here.” Got the other guy sent to the ER and got his manager, Donna, in a huge snit.
Ralph nodded. “You need to channel that into getting better, Brett. You’re so busy fighting the world, you don’t have time or energy to focus on the real problem.”
“The real problem is this fucking shoulder. This stupid motherfucking shoulder.”
“Yes, that’s the bulk of it.” Ralph started walking them back toward the farmhouse. “Your attitude could use some adjusting as well.”
“You aren’t here to fix that. I can be as pissed off as I need to be.” And he did need to be. Otherwise, there was just….
Nothing.
“No, Michael will be seeing you several times a week, I’m sure—it’s his job to fix that.” Ralph gave him a wink.
“Christ. Can’t I just exercise a lot and Benj can talk to him?”
Ralph laughed. “You’re a man of action, Brett. You and I are going to get along well.”
He smiled, offered the flask. “You think?”
Ralph took the flash and had a drink. “Jean will lecture me.”
“You’ll probably enjoy it.” Benj would just blink at him with hurt eyes.
Ralph laughed. “Oh, the lectures can be tedious, but they always lead to making up, and that I will enjoy very much.” He gave Brett a look, stopped on the porch as the last of the light disappeared. “When was the last time you made love to your man?”
Brett’s back went right up. “What the fuck business is that of yours?”
That had Ralph chuckling again. “It isn’t. But nothing relaxes a man like it, and you both look like you could use the relaxation, the connection. And if I know my Jean, he’ll be prescribing it as a part of his homeopathic cure tomorrow. Hell, I imagine Michael might even suggest it.”
Jesus. What kind of fucked-up place was this? “My dick’s my business.”
“You don’t think how you interact with your partner affects your ability to heal? Your mood? His?”
“You don’t think about fifty push-ups count as ‘against doctor’s orders’ exercise?” Asshole.
“Fifty push-ups…. You know, Jean bought me The Gay Kama Sutra for Christmas a few years ago—I think perhaps you need to borrow it if you think that’s the only way to do it.”
Oh, now the asshole was laughing at him again.
“Fuck off, man.” He was blushing deeply, completely unused to the ribbing. Most of the guys never so much as acknowledged Benj. Never.
“Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I plan to do. What you should do.” Ralph winked and then opened the door. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room, and you can tell Benj what an asshole I am. Though I imagine you’ll think I’m an even bigger one after tomorrow.”
“What time do we start?” He looked for the bags, but Benj must’ve grabbed them.
“You’ll meet me out at the therapy room in the barn at 9:00 a.m. Jean will be serving breakfast anytime after seven. And I expect you to show up having eaten. You can’t do anything on an empty stomach.” Ralph led him up the stairs.
“I don’t eat breakfast, man. No bullshit. Huge lunch. Big dinner. Midnight snack.”
Ralph was shaking his head. “Jean can make you a protein drink if you can’t stomach anything in the morning. And I’ll let him know to leave you something out for tonight. Tomorrow you’ll have to work out your menu and meals with him, but you can’t com
e to my sessions on an empty stomach.”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Fight about it tomorrow. He needed to work harder before he started eating heavy again.
They went to a light blue door right at the top of the stairs. “These are your rooms. You and Benj have a bedroom and a sitting room, with an en suite bathroom. Jean and I are on the next floor. If you need anything, you can come up and knock on the red door.”
“We’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.” He finished his whiskey and gave Ralph a nod. “Sleep well, man.”
“You too, Brett. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ralph clapped him on the back and headed down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“You in here, baby?” Brett opened the door to a decent-sized sitting room. “You okay?”
Benj came out of the bedroom, a shirt in his hands. “Hi, love. I was just unpacking, putting our stuff away.”
He tossed the shirt over one of the La-Z-Boys, Benj all smiles and open arms. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”
“I walked. There’s a lake. That Ralph? Nosy bastard.” He found a smile, went to give Benj a hug. “Next time you should come with me.”
Benj’s arms wrapped around his waist, Benj fitting just right against him, head resting on his shoulder. “A lake? It sounds nice. I think we’ll have some free time every day from what Jean was saying.”
“You dreading that?” He’d been a prick; it wouldn’t surprise him if Benj said yes.
“What?” Benj straightened, eyes soft with worry. “Of course not, Brett.” Benj’s long, agile fingers stroked his cheeks. “Of course not.”
“Good. I’m sorry about all this mess, baby. It shouldn’t be like this.”
They should be on a plane to Hawaii, off-season on the beach, like always.
“No, you should be whole and healthy. It isn’t fair that you aren’t.” Benj kissed him suddenly, lips soft and warm, sweet with the hint of sugar.
“Mmm….” He blinked, the kiss unexpected; they’d become almost rare. “You taste like dessert.”
Benj’s fingers continued to stroke, to slide on his face. “Beignets. They were covered in powdered sugar. You should have stayed and had one.”