“Brian is still on his mission trip to China and Father is busy preparing for tomorrow’s sermon.” Stuart’s tone said Trevor should have known that. “And Mother couldn’t leave the girls.”
The girls. God, Trevor missed them and his mother so much. What books were Laura reading these days? Did Hannah still lisp? Did she still add him to the endless family portraits she churned out with colored pencils?
“You mean Dad didn’t want her to come.” Again, no offense to Stuart, but he could have used his mother’s soothing voice, especially devoid of his father’s direction. When he was younger and sick, she always brought him a heating pad and rubbed his back until he fell asleep curled around a warm pillow. At least she had until his father had put a stop to her coddling Trevor.
“She’s praying for you.” Stuart sidestepped the question as neatly as if it were dog crap. “Now, tell me, how are you really?”
He leaned forward like he actually cared, and what the hell, Trevor had no one else to talk to, so Trevor told him about what the doctor had said, and about the genetic component she suspected. “You might think about having the kids tested—”
“Genetics is hardly proven science.” Stuart made a face like Trevor had suggested shaving the kids’ heads. “Father says it’s just window dressing on evolution. The liberals’ way of making evolution more palatable.”
“My biology professor would disagree.”
“We never should have sent you to such a liberal school.” Stuart shook his head sadly. Only Trevor’s family could consider Mount Monticello, a religious college known for its conservative student code, a liberal institution. Stuart himself had gone straight to the most conservative Bible seminary in the Midwest and from there right to his father’s side at the church. Even Stuart’s missionary trips had been carefully scripted for the benefit of the church and positive publicity.
“I majored in religious studies and minored in music exactly like Dad wanted.” A fact that had contributed to his current lack of employability, but Trevor didn’t shove that fact at Stuart. Yet.
“On a happier note, I understand you may be released later today?” Stuart asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m getting a hotel room. Why don’t you think about spending the night with me to rest?”
“My show is heading back to Vancouver in the morning.”
“We can have you back with them by departure,” Stuart said smoothly. “I just think a nice quiet evening might be good for you. We can watch a movie or something.”
“I don’t—”
“Blood sugar and vitals test time!” The cute nurse was back, wheeling a cart with him. “I see you ate most of the breakfast; that’s good.”
“You have to take his blood?” Predictably, Stuart’s voice went all Kermit the frog and his skin color shifted to match. Stuart hated needles. And blood. He hunted because their dad expected that, but he always made someone else do the butchering or the gutting of his fish. “Maybe I’ll go get some juice.”
“Sounds good.” Trevor didn’t need the hospital to have to deal with two passed-out Daniels brothers in twenty-four hours.
“Just think about what I said, okay? You could use a night off. I came to visit with you and aid in your recovery.” The look on Stuart’s face was almost wistful, a tenderness that only ever showed on their father’s face when he held one of the babies or prayed over the very sick.
A bit later, the nurse finished Trevor’s vitals and pronounced his blood sugar perfect. Stuart still wasn’t back, and Trevor was still suffering from a night of interrupted sleep, so he started to doze.
“Knock, knock!” Dawn’s voice cut through his drowsiness. And holy heck, the only thing worse than Stuart’s appearance was Dawn flanked by Kaitlyn, Carter, Carson, and a camerawoman. A guilty-looking Jalen brought up the rear.
“I thought you were getting rid of the camera,” Trevor said to Jalen, ignoring the rest of them.
“Now don’t be grumpy.” Dawn came and sat next to him on the bed.
That’s Jalen’s spot. Nice as Dawn was, he didn’t want her all up in his face. Dawn didn’t pick up on his subliminal messages, though, and kept right on speaking. “Here’s the deal. Online is full of chatter about last night. You guys have a thirty percent gain in followers just in the last twelve hours. The show was mad about your lying, but everyone sees that we can use this turn of events to all our advantages.”
“I don’t want to use this as part of our brand or whatever. That’s why I didn’t say anything.” Oh God. Everyone seeing him like this? In this ratty hospital gown? One swift tug of the blanket away from total humiliation?
“But, sweetie, this is great TV.” Kaitlyn spoke up. “All we’re going to do is have me ask you a few questions about how you’re feeling and get your bandmates to express sympathy and then post that vlog. I’ll do most of the talking. You just tell me what the doctor said, and I’ll put it in easy terms for the audience to understand. I’m a professional.”
“Hey, he shouldn’t have to share his medical information.” Jalen finally spoke up. Was he seriously on board with this plan?
“Oh you don’t have to tell me everything,” Kaitlyn said breezily. “Just the basics.”
“I have diabetes. I’m going to be okay. Should be released later today,” Trevor said in a complete monotone. “That’s it.”
“Maybe with the camera rolling and a bit more emotion?” Dawn suggested.
“Why is this room so crowded and loud?” An older nurse—not the cute young nurse or nice Nurse Wendy from last night—bustled into the room. “This is a place of healing. I’m going to have to ask you to reduce the number of people. Mr. Daniels will be able to visit with all of you upon his release. And don’t even think of pointing that thing at me.” She addressed her last comment to the camerawoman.
“Jalen stays,” Trevor spoke up. Nurse Officious was a bit heavy-handed, but he wasn’t going to argue with the outcome if it got the show people out of his hair for a bit. But he wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Jalen.
“Are you getting released later, Trevor?” Dawn asked. “I guess we can film that part of the segment with you back at the hotel. Maybe get you sitting down with your feet up, looking all recuperating and cute.”
“Did you seriously just say that recuperating from illness sells?” Jalen blinked at his sister, finally seeming more than half in the room.
“I’m not going back to the hotel with you guys.”
“What?” Five faces all swiveled in his direction.
Trevor hadn’t really thought about it until the words popped out, but it made sense. Give Stuart a little time. Pump him for information about the rest of the family. Maybe he could even talk to his mom on the phone. Listen to the girls fight over who got to say good night to him the way they had his first three years of college. He knew instinctively this was his one shot to earn some family goodwill back. And if doing so got him a reprieve from the show capitalizing on his humiliating collapse, so much the better. “My brother’s in town. I’m going to stay with him tonight. I’ll rejoin you guys in the morning for the trip back.”
“That is not a good plan.” Dawn and Kaitlyn spoke in near unison.
“You can’t do that, man,” Carson said.
“And you can’t all be in here,” the nurse said. “You can have your argument elsewhere. Mr. Daniels needs rest.”
“Jalen stays,” Trevor said again. He needed to make Jalen understand. Or let Jalen chew him out for last night. Whichever. This strangely subdued Jalen needed to go and they needed to talk.
Dawn sprang off his bed. “If we’re being kicked out, we need to get back to the festival for some footage there. Fifteen minutes, Jalen, okay? Somebody cooperate with me today, please?”
Fifteen minutes wasn’t nearly long enough for everything Trevor wanted to tell Jalen.
Finally, the rest of the group filed out. Kaitlyn looked over her shoulder for one last appeal. “You really should come back
with us when you’re released. I’ll be very tasteful in my interview questions. You can trust me.”
Miss Oprah wannabe gave him a beseeching look before tottering after the others on her impossibly high heels.
Problem was, Trevor wasn’t sure who to trust right now. Kaitlyn with her journalistic aspirations? Dawn with her show-first attitude? His brother? Jalen?
Jalen came over to the bed, sat in the spot Dawn had vacated. “Hey.”
Jalen’s greeting lacked any humor, and his eyes were downcast and hooded. His hands were clenched in his lap, not touching Trevor like usual.
“What’s wrong?” Trevor asked. Please don’t be another person I’m letting down. “Are you mad?”
Jalen shook his head. “You can’t go back with your brother, Trevor.”
“I am so sick of people telling me what I can and can’t do.” Trevor let his head fall back against the pillows. He needed Jalen to be supportive of him and his choices, not be yet another voice directing his actions.
One, two, three, four . . . Jalen inhaled and exhaled with each count.
“What are you doing?” Trevor asked.
“Counting.”
“Are you really that mad that I want to spend time with my brother?”
I’m so mad about everything. Hate this feeling. His head pounded, right behind his eyes, and he was sweating like he’d just kicked out a round of burpees. “He wants to take you away from here, Trev. I heard him on the phone earlier. He’s not going to take you to the hotel and back to us in the morning. It’s a lie. I think he’s going to kidnap you.”
“That’s a bit harsh.” Trevor picked at a thread on the hospital blanket. “You heard one side of a conversation and you think I’m being kidnapped? Listen, my dad is very ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ with his orders. And Stuart’s a bit . . . archaic in his wording. You probably misheard.”
“Why won’t anyone believe me?” Jalen rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m telling you, don’t go with him.”
“Geez. I never figured you for the controlling-boyfriend type.” Trevor’s chin had a stubborn tilt to it. “Listen, he’s not a bad guy. Bit conservative, yeah—”
“If he comes in here right now, how are you going to introduce me?”
Trevor sucked his lips in until no pink remained, his eyes going soft and pained.
“Yeah, about what I figured,” Jalen said, hopping off the bed and striding to the window.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who wasn’t the hippest on sending a picture of us to your moms.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I didn’t want them to get their hopes up. Okay? I didn’t want to tell them we’re together for real because I knew they’d have a million questions, and I don’t even have answers for me. Especially not right now.”
“See, I knew it! You are mad about last night—you’re mad that I didn’t tell you I was feeling bad and that’s why you’re flipping out about my brother—”
“Yeah. You didn’t trust me then and you’re not trusting me now. I don’t give a crap what you do or who you do it with, except when it’s dangerous. And you keep putting yourself in danger!” Jalen ended the last bit on a growl.
Trevor shrank back against the pillows—not scared exactly, but for sure like he wanted to escape the force of Jalen’s words.
“And I hate this most of all. You make me angry and crazy and I hate being angry.” Trevor’s stubbornness made him want to pound things, and that crazed adrenaline brought up the worst fear of all—that he was no better than his bio mom. That he, too, could do stupid, irrational shit simply because he loved Trevor. “I hate everything about this.”
“If I make you that crazy, maybe you should just go.” Trevor turned into his pillow, looking away from Jalen.
Every muscle tensed in Jalen, ready to stomp out. Leave Trevor to stew while Jalen calmed himself down because these big drama scenes were not him, and he wouldn’t let them be him. But he also couldn’t abandon Trevor. Fuck love.
“What if I get your brother in here? You ask him what he’s got planned?”
“A nice long soak in a hot tub.” The brother chose right then to wander back in. “Who’s this, Trevor? I just ran into some of the show people in the lobby. This one of the guys from the show?”
No, I’m his boyfriend. His real one. The one who sat all night with him hoping he wasn’t about to die. The one who loves him even when he’s being a stubborn ass.
Trevor didn’t answer for a long time, during which the last flame of Jalen’s hope of a future for them extinguished.
Trevor hesitated too long. He knew that, yet he still couldn’t get his throat to cooperate. If he said Jalen was his boyfriend, his real boyfriend, not some stunt on the show, things would get ugly in a hurry. He didn’t want Jalen to learn what bigots Trevor came from. And at the same time, horribly, Trevor couldn’t bring himself to sever his last tie to his family. Would Stuart storm out? Give up on him for good? Poof. His chance of talking to his mother that night would go, as would hearing about his sisters. Choosing Jalen might be the right thing to do, but it wasn’t the easy thing, and with each second that ticked by, his throat narrowed into a skinny straw of doubt and indecision.
“Yeah, just a guy.” Jalen’s words were sharp as nails, each one banging into Trevor’s sore and guilt-ridden soul. “I’m out of here.”
Trevor didn’t call him back, because really what could he say? He’d already failed in the worst way possible—speaking now wouldn’t make any difference. And it was probably for the best. He didn’t deserve a guy like Jalen anyway. Jalen had every right to be mad at him for lying, mad at him for being reluctant about helping the group, mad at him for not choosing him.
“I talked to Mother. She’s relieved to hear you’re doing better.”
Relieved. That was all Trevor was to anyone—a potential disappointment. Even his family expected to be let down by him. Not Mom sends her love. Just relief when he didn’t screw up even worse than he already had.
Chapter Twenty
@NextDirectionShow We love *all* our groups!
@CarterNCarson Can it be tomorrow already?
Trevor spent a very boring afternoon waiting for release. He and Stuart watched an old western on cable together, but Trevor couldn’t recall the plot even moments after it ended. And instead of the sound track, he kept hearing Jalen’s voice.
“Think I should call Mom?” Trevor said at one point.
“Why don’t you wait until we’re at the hotel?” Stuart didn’t look up from the movie. “All these nurses in and out with tests for you, might as well wait until it’s quiet.”
Trevor didn’t want to examine why he felt like he needed Stuart’s permission to talk to his parents. In fact, don’t think was his new motto. Don’t think about why his call wouldn’t be welcome. Don’t think about the show. Especially don’t think about the scene they wanted to film with him talking about diabetes. Don’t think about Jalen. Don’t think about the hurt on Jalen’s face. Don’t think about how he’d been frustrated and confused and fenced in and almost certainly made the wrong decision. Trevor had never been the most decisive guy, but he’d known the second Jalen’s back disappeared that he was going to regret his nonanswer for the rest of his life.
Not thinking served him right through discharge—Dr. Cho came around shortly after dinner, looked over his blood sugar readings throughout the day, and declared him able to leave, albeit with a small shopping bag full of new meds, insulin, an insulin pen, and a new blood meter that also tested ketones. Each item made him painfully aware of his bank balance, but the nurse had pushed aside his questions about payment. Great. One more thing to worry about tomorrow.
Dawn had left his backpack earlier in the day, so he had that, too. His arms were sore from the IV and multiple blood draws. However, Stuart didn’t offer to carry either bag, preoccupied with something on his phone.
Wordlessly, Stuar
t led them to a black SUV. He always did hate to drive tiny cars. He already had the car radio tuned to some local AM station, full of dudes spewing BS about current politics. Oh well, wasn’t like they’d be in the car for long.
Except they were. They were in the car long enough for one hate-filled monologue to give way to an interview with another dude who had written a book on faith-based healing.
“He’s nice,” Stuart said, breaking the silence. “I met him at a conference last year. If you want, I could see if he’d be willing to look at your case.” He said this with the same casual air Trevor had used in describing genetic testing.
“Um. I think I’ll probably keep with the meds. But thanks.” No way was Trevor ever playing fast and loose with his medications or diet again. On the radio, the dude was describing using “confidence tower” jumps and fire walks to cure everything from cancer to ADHD.
“Hey, Stuart? Where is your hotel?” Trevor asked, turning down the radio before the guy could go on to his next story. They’d gotten on the interstate almost as soon as they’d left the hospital, but they’d been on it well over half an hour now.
Stuart blew out a breath, his lower lip coming out like a shovel. A shovel for whatever shit was about to spew out his mouth. Trevor had spent too many years playing board games with Stuart not to recognize that tell, or the way Stuart’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Other than their father, they were all crappy liars. Trevor’s giveaway was always his voice and his eyes, while Stuart’s was always his mouth and his hands.
“It’s a ways away.” Stuart had a don’t-ask-me-again tone that reminded Trevor so much of his childhood it was creepy.
“Are we even going to your hotel?” Trevor asked. Jalen’s suspicions swam around his head, giving a bite to his words.
Love Me Tenor Page 22
