by DJ Jamison
“Should she be going?” he asked when Trent had stowed his bag and got into the driver’s seat. Lowering his voice, he added: “And should we be traveling in an enclosed space with someone who’s sick?”
He didn’t want to sound selfish, but he had another semester of schooling, labs, clinical hours and work. Other than dropping off Christmas dinner, he hadn’t seen Trent much since his visit to Gran’s house. Xavier had been too busy getting through finals.
“Well, it’s a bit late to schedule another nurse and you’re not qualified for that role just yet. You were meant to be her assistant, doing most of the legwork, with her in a supervisory role. So, hopefully, you can get plenty of hands-on experience and Marge can sign off on your hours. You can credit them toward something, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, okay. I guess it’s good experience.”
“If you want to be a nurse, best get used to being around the sickos now,” Marge said in a gravelly voice from the back.
“You’re right,” Xavier said, flashing a smile in her direction, though her eyes remained closed. “I hope you’re doing okay? Let me know if I can get you anything.”
“Just some quiet,” she said.
Xavier turned back to see Trent grinning at him as he put the van in gear.
“What?” He mouthed, afraid to disturb Marge.
“Quiet whippersnapper,” he teased in a whisper. “It’s going to be a long drive.”
“Oh, fuck off,” he said playfully, shoving Trent’s shoulder.
Trent just laughed and turned on some quiet music, something instrumental and mellow, and turned his attention to the road. Xavier was on break, so for once he didn’t have piles of homework or studying. He’d packed his textbooks for the next semester— he’d already enrolled and bought his books— but he couldn’t make himself get them out.
Instead, he plugged some headphones into his phone so he could blast more colorful music into his ears— and also to avoid talking to Trent more than necessary — and watched the scenery through the window. There wasn’t much to see: barren trees, open fields (with a few cows and horses sprinkled in) and telephone poles. The occasional wind farm, with large wind turbines whirring at top speed in the Kansas wind, broke up the monotony a bit. They looked a little like large public works of art, and there was something hypnotic about watching their blades turn.
His eyes grew heavy and he didn’t fight the pull of sleep. It was probably rude to leave Trent to drive without even a companion, but Xavier felt like he’d been running non-stop without a break for years. He was exhausted, plain and simple.
***
It was a boring drive, especially with Xavier drooling in the passenger seat and Marge sleeping fitfully— when she wasn’t hacking through a terrible cough— in the back.
He hoped Xavier was prepared to act as a full nurse, despite being just a student. Marge was in no condition to do much more than sign off on the paperwork and maybe hold down the front desk. She wasn’t contagious; it was her emphysema condition worsening. He hadn’t felt like he should disclose her private health concerns to Xavier. If she decided to tell him, or if she gave Trent the go-ahead to explain, then he’d spell it out.
Marge probably shouldn’t be working in her condition, but she’d signed up for the volunteer work long ago, having been one of the people instrumental in planning it, and she didn’t want to miss the culmination of all that effort. It was likely to be her last assignment as a nurse. Trent was fairly certain she’d be on oxygen before long and unable to perform her duties.
He wouldn’t wish it on Marge, but the situation would provide him and Xavier with more opportunity to work closely. He hoped that might accelerate project “become Xav’s friend,” which was slower going than he’d like.
Patience was a virtue, or so he heard. It wasn’t his best trait.
Trent pulled into a parking lot of a convenience store, and Trent woke Xavier enough to find out his beverage request, then checked in with Marge about her needs. He went inside to shop, while his passengers stretched and hit the restrooms.
When he came back, Xavier accepted his soda with a thanks. He’d wiped away the drool and his eyes looked brighter.
“Where are we?” Xavier asked.
Trent rubbed at his eyes and took a big gulp of his coffee. He’d been driving for two hours, with about one more to go.
“We’re in Hays, so we should get into Quinter in about an hour,” he said.
The plan was to start on the west end of their journey, and make their way back, stopping for a day of health screenings in each town along their route.
Xavier dug out the map and skimmed over the list of towns they’d hit on their whirlwind tour. From Quinter, they’d head southwest to Gove City and Pullman, then east to Ness City, Jetmore and Kinsley before returning to Ashe. They’d skip over the larger towns in their path.
Places like Dodge City and Garden City had better services on offer, and while residents of some of these smaller towns were within driving distance, not everyone had a car or the means to travel. Even some of these towns had health-care centers, of course, but not necessarily affordable health care for people who needed it most.
There were health insurance plans like Medicaid — and maybe some other health coverage options — for people in the state, but one thing Xavier knew from experience was that a lot of people didn’t take the steps to get that coverage. They were either convinced the waiting list would be too long, there was too much paperwork, or they were afraid to divulge how they made their money because it was under the table and not claimed on taxes.
It had happened to Xavier’s father. Trent could still remember Xavier’s confession about why he’d decided to become a doctor and how his father might have been saved with better health care. If he’d gone for regular check-ups, his cancer might have been caught. Instead, he’d put off going to the doctor until symptoms became so bad he was in agony. Unless something was broken or bleeding, no one in the family went to the doctor. They let illnesses “run their course,” Xavier had said.
His father’s illness had run its course too. Unfortunately, the finish line wasn’t anything anyone wanted to see. He’d been stage 4 by the time he was diagnosed, and even aggressive treatment couldn’t save him.
In retrospect, Xavier’s desire to go into medicine had been so much more noble than his. Trent had been ambitious. He liked the feeling of power that being a surgeon gave him. Xavier wanted to save lives for the sake of saving lives.
He felt a little ashamed, thinking on it now.These rural health screenings— reaching out to people who might not understand the importance of their health care— was exactly what Xavier had always wanted to do.
This job Trent had taken was Xavier’s dream job. Did his ex-boyfriend resent that he’d swooped in and scooped up a position he’d never hold himself? Trent hoped not. He had enough obstacles to winning Xavier’s forgiveness without resentment in the mix.
***
Xavier zoned out, thinking about the work ahead of them. They’d have to set up a makeshift health screening area at the community center in Quinter. Each day, they’d also be packaging and storing lab samples to be delivered to nearby labs for processing. They’d opted not to bring lab equipment or staffing. The grant that had been won and put toward this program was covering their travel and lab fees, but all of them were working strictly on a volunteer basis.
He was kind of surprised Trent had agreed. He was one of three physicians who worked in the clinic, and he was the newest man on deck, but he’d never been all that philanthropic. Trent had always talked about the money doctors made — and given that Trent’s family already had money, Xavier suspected that was code for “you can stop being so poor.” When Xavier wanted a break from studying, Trent would remind him that Xavier could buy his grandmother a new home on a doctor’s salary. That had stung a bit, that Trent thought his family home wasn’t good enough somehow, but he’d just smiled and nodded. Looking back now, he rea
lized that Trent grew up wealthy and might not have realized how materialistic—and insulting— that sounded to Xavier.
“We’ll set up the clinic this afternoon, and start doing screenings immediately tomorrow morning,” Trent said, interrupting his thoughts. “We’ll wrap up at 4 p.m. tomorrow and drive to the next town, where we’ll spend the night. Rinse and repeat.”
“Ugh,” Xavier said, exhausted just by the thought of all that set-up and tear-down. “At least we can go to bed early, I guess.”
“Yeah, you were drooling pretty hard over there,” Trent teased. “You probably need your rest.”
“Hey, I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Everything okay?”
Xavier nodded, still uncomfortable with Trent working his way into the friend zone. There was nothing significant to tell anyway. He’d had too much coffee, and his insomnia and anxiety about being in close quarters with Trent for so long had got the better of him. It was dumb.
“Yeah, just trouble sleeping. Nothing major.”
Trent didn’t look entirely convinced. “Okay, well, hopefully you get some rest tonight. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
They parked in front of a tiny inn that looked a bit shabby around the edges. Xavier supposed they didn’t have a lot of four-star hotels in this little rural town of fewer than 1,000 people. Not that a grant would pay for the best accommodations, but something clean and comfortable would be nice.
Trent checked in, then turned and handed Xavier a room key.
“This one is for Marge,” he said. “She’s in 110, but we can drive her to the door. They’re all external exits.”
Marge had been sleeping again when they arrived, so they’d left her in the backseat to come inside and check in.
“Okay, what room am I in?” Xavier asked.
Trent handed him another room card. “You and I are in 108.”
Xavier’s eyebrows went up, and he frowned. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
Trent’s tone was grim, as if he’d predicted Xavier wouldn’t react well. He pocketed his own room card and headed for the door. Xavier trailed after him and climbed into the passenger side.
“We’re sharing a room,” he said.
“Yep.” Trent popped his p, sounding flippant about the situation.
Xavier gritted his teeth, but he didn’t want to explode in front of Marge. He kept his silence as they dropped her off at her door and carried her bags inside, then walked down to Room 108.
Inside, Xavier was relieved to see two full-size beds where he’d halfway expected to see one queen or king. At least he could sleep alone. He’d rather not be in the same room with Trent as they showered and dressed, though.
“What, there’s no heart-shaped bed for us to share?” Xavier said sarcastically.
Trent dropped his suitcase on the end of the bed closest to the door and turned to Xavier with a confused look. “What?”
“Well, you know, if we’re going to be trite and have that whole accidental room sharing scenario ...”
Trent snorted a laugh, which only made Xavier narrow his eyes in irritation.
“It’s not accidental. This is a philanthropic program. Did you really think we’d all get our own rooms? We’re lucky Marge is a woman, or someone would probably be on a cot in this room with us.”
Xavier felt his anger deflating, but he wasn’t ready to concede defeat. “I could share with Marge.”
Trent lifted an eyebrow. “If you really want to ...”
The sound of those hacking coughs rang in his head. No way he could sleep through that.
“Fuck, you know I don’t.”
He threw himself facedown on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. Xavier wasn’t a drama queen by nature, but Trent made him crazy. He muffled a scream of frustration into the pillow, which he noticed was way too fucking flat to be comfortable.
When he looked up, Trent was trying to control a laugh.
“Come on, unpack and we’ll go set up the space in the community center,” Trent said. “I promise not to molest you in the night. We have separate beds and three feet of space between us. Not even your dick reaches that far.”
Xavier snorted, amused despite himself. Yes, he had a big dick and Trent knew it.
At one time, Trent had known Xavier better than anyone, but he hoped his ex-boyfriend had forgotten at least a few of the details. It was weird and sort of arousing to think that Trent knew not just the size of his dick, but that he loved fingers in his ass and hated the taste of cum. He had a few secrets up his sleeve— he wasn’t the same man he’d been at age 18— but Trent knew more of them than he’d like.
Xavier grabbed his duffel and pulled out bedclothes for that night. There would be no sleeping in the buff with Trent in the room. Sweats and a T-shirt would have to do. He usually wore them more for lounging than sleeping, but he’d work with what he had.
“What, no silk or lace?” Trent teased. “I was kind of hoping after that club get-up that you might wear lingerie to bed.”
Hell, Trent even knew about his tendencies to dress in feminine clothing. Something he’d never done in high school.
Xavier threw a pair of socks at Trent’s head, which the doctor easily dodged while still laughing. The fucker.
Just to punish him, Xavier said, “I own a whole collection of lingerie. I save them for the men who get to see me naked.”
Trent’s laughter cut short, and Xavier concentrated on zipping up his bag and putting it in the corner of the closet. The whole time he felt Trent’s eyes on him.
“That was mean,” Trent said finally.
Xavier looked up with a smirk. “I know.”
“Brat.”
Chapter Eight
Trent woke to the sound of moaning, and not the good kind.
Bedsprings creaked and blankets rustled. A string of whispered curses brought him fully awake.
It was still pitch-black, and his internal clock told him it was somewhere in the middle of the night around 3 or 4 a.m. He and Xavier had set up their makeshift clinic, grabbed takeout and watched a movie—from their separate beds— before lights out. Xavier had carefully kept his distance.
He could tell by the tone of Xavier’s voice he wasn’t hearing his ex-boyfriend rubbing one out. No, he couldn’t get that lucky.
“What’s wrong?” he mumbled.
“Shit,” Xavier said a bit louder. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“Well, you did, so what’s up?”
Trent’s eyes adjusted enough to make out Xavier’s shape in the bed a few feet from his. Xavier shifted, squirming around in an effort to get comfortable.
“Is your bed a torture device too?” Xavier groused. “I feel like the girl in Princess and the Pea.”
“Well, you are a princess. That much is true.”
Xavier sat up and punched his pillow. “I’m imagining this is your face.” He turned a dirty look on Trent. “I haven’t been able to sleep all night. Don’t mess with me.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“Want to bet?”
Trent threw back his covers and slipped out of bed. It was chilly in the room and he was dressed only in boxer briefs, so he hurried over to Xavier and climbed in.
Xavier scrambled across the bed, making space even while he rumbled a protest. “What the fuck—”
“Christ!” Trent exclaimed, lurching up from the mattress immediately. “I’ve been molested by a bedspring.”
Xavier laughed, a quiet chuckle more than a boisterous laugh, but it made Trent’s insides heat up. He’d missed Xavier’s laughs. He’d been such a happy guy when they dated in high school. He’d been easygoing, even with all the stress he had over his family obligations.
But this laugh was even better. It had a soft, intimate quality to it in the dark. It was the kind of laugh lovers shared in the middle of the night.
“This mattress is flat as a pancake,” Trent said as he shifted around, sear
ching for a comfortable position.
“Now, you feel my pain,” Xavier said.
“Jesus, the floor would be more comfortable!”
“Fuck that. I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
“Of course not.” Trent slipped from the bed and held out a hand. “Come on.”
Xavier hesitated, and Trent waggled his fingers. “Come on, Xav, it’s fucking freezing and I’m tired. It’s just a bed. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Right,” Xavier muttered skeptically, but he took Trent’s hand and slid out of the bed.
He was dressed more fully in sweats and a T-shirt. Trent wouldn’t mind seeing more of Xavier’s body, but it probably was for the best he didn’t feel hot skin pressing up against him in bed. He’d never be able to resist temptation, and Xavier wouldn’t appreciate Trent’s boner or his wandering hands.
They climbed into Trent’s full-size bed together. Xavier wasn’t a small guy, and Trent wasn’t exactly petite at 6 feet tall. They couldn’t avoid touching, even if it was just the brush of shoulders and knocking of knees.
“I was hoping this wouldn’t turn into a bed-sharing situation,” Xavier grumbled. “You couldn’t have planned it better.”
Trent laughed. “I could have booked the honeymoon suite by accident.”
“As if they’d have one of those in this little place.”
“You never know. Maybe they have a vibrating bed and a whirlpool tub.”
That earned him a snicker.
“That would almost be worth it,” Xavier said. “I’m going to be hurting tomorrow.”
Xavier squirmed around, elbowing Trent in the ribs and kicking his ankle in the process.
“Ow, stop.” Trent turned on his side, facing away from Xavier. Glancing back over his shoulder at his skittish ex-boyfriend, he beckoned with a hand. “Okay, come over here.”
“Trent ...”
“Just shut up and spoon me,” he said, his eyes heavy with the need to sleep. “I’m tired.”
