Now, though, his mind swelled with all the things Jed didn’t know about, all the things he’d missed out on: Nick and Kim’s shotgun wedding, the magical births of his nieces. All at once, Max felt the need to tell Jed all about them.
He didn’t know how long he’d been talking when his voice cracked. The strangled sob caught him by surprise. For a while now, he’d felt too tired and numb to give in to the debilitating pain in his chest.
He clamped his hand over his mouth and took some deep breaths. No. Jed doesn’t need to hear that. But even as Max thought it, the sense that it wasn’t entirely true crept over him. Perhaps he was wrong… perhaps Jed did need to feel his pain… perhaps he needed reminding what he was leaving behind.
Max felt the faith he was clinging to dim as he stroked Jed’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You know I love you, right? It’s okay if you’ve had enough. I can’t even tell you how much I’ll miss you… how much I already miss you… ah, fuck, this isn’t coming out right.”
He gave up and covered his mouth again. Was that what he wanted to say to Jed? That it was all right for him to give up and die?
God, no.
Dr. Greene entered the room. He’d been in and out throughout the day, but this time he was accompanied by Dr. Howarth. They ran through their usual routine. Max watched them with muted interest. Much of what they did was a mystery to him. He jumped a little when Dr. Howarth appeared at his side.
“Holding firm, eh? Let’s see what the dawn brings us.”
The doctors left before Max could formulate an answer. Instead, he found himself scrutinizing Jed more closely than he had before. He looked the same—still, pale, clinging to life by a thread, but Max sensed something. Something, something, something. But what?
Perhaps it was his own hysterical exhaustion. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so long without sleep, but the harder he stared at Jed, the more he felt it. Felt the glimmer of emotion he’d fought back while Glenn had been there. Hope? It had been so long, he wasn’t quite sure.
Max slumped in the chair by Jed’s side. His body gave in to fatigue, but even as his head hit the mattress and sleep washed over him, the crackle of energy flowing through his tired brain was undeniable.
Something had changed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Day One
…. NICK SHIFTED his weight from one foot to the other. He wanted something; Jed could tell.
“Are you coming to the dance tonight?”
Jed tossed an armful of clean clothes in Nick’s general direction. “Put those away, and no, I’m not. I have to work, remember?”
It was true, though Jed was pretty sure his boss at the lumberyard would’ve given him the evening off if he’d asked for it, but he wasn’t about to do that. Hell, no. School dances were lame. A night spent out in the open, the smell of fresh cut wood in the air, and his boss’s fuck-hot son for company. Yeah, that was more like it.
“You’re always working.”
Jed finished putting clean sheets on his bed, and flopped down on the sagging mattress, covering his eyes with his arm. “Someone’s gotta pay for all those nerdy field trips you go on.”
“Hector said he’d lend us the money.”
“Hector’s got less money than we do. Don’t go taking shit from him.”
Nick hovered in the doorway. Jed sighed and sat up. This was the problem with Nick—he was wet behind the ears and needed everything explained to him eleventy damn times. “Dude, Hector means well, but he’s broke, and even if he wasn’t, we’d still have to pay him back. We might as well pay for it ourselves in the first place.”
“You shouldn’t have to work day and night. No one ever sees you. Anna thinks you have a girlfriend.”
That was a new one. Jed reckoned Dan had put that in his mom’s head to yank his chain. Still, he wasn’t going to fall for Nick using Hector’s good nature against him. Nick knew Jed would never take money from the Valescos. “You just don’t want to do the project that comes after the trip. Don’t pretend you give a shit about me.”
“How do you know there’ll be a project?”
“Because I did Dan’s for him last year.”
“So you’ll do mine for me?”
Nick’s eyes were hopeful, but Jed shook his head. His little brother’s brains were gonna be his ticket out of this goddamn town. “I did Dan’s for my benefit, not his. You won’t learn anything if I do it for you.”
“Asshole.”
Nick tossed a book at him. Jed caught it easily. Nick scowled and looked around for another missile, but was distracted by the crash of the front door. The sound reverberated through the house, signaling that Frank Cooper was home.
Jed slid off his bed in one smooth motion, rolling his eyes as he heard Frank walk into the dresser. Nick kept trying to move it, but Jed wouldn’t let him. Where was the fun in that?
He opened his bedroom window and climbed out onto the ledge. He jumped. His feet hit the tarmac below before Nick could protest….
…. JED CREPT forward another inch, tracking the approaching enemy. It didn’t look good. Their tanks were old and dilapidated, ancient Soviet rejects, but it didn’t matter. They still had enough firepower to roll right over Jed’s crew.
Raffi crept up beside him. “How many?”
“Too many,” Jed replied out of the corner of his mouth.
“We got a plan, boss?”
Jed thought on it. He had thirty seconds or less to make a decision. His team of eight was outnumbered, outflanked, and outgunned. Against the ropes, and their options were limited to three: Fight, die, or surrender.
Jed tightened his hold on his gun, checking his pockets for extra magazines. “Get ready. We’re moving out.”
It was a no-brainer to move forward and take the battle to the enemy. It was the last thing their opponents expected them to do, and their only chance.
Jed met Raffi’s eyes and nodded.
Fuck you. I’m not going to die today….
… IT WAS all over a few hours later. Jed’s crew was battered and bruised, but alive.
They made camp for the night in a wet, secluded ditch, and though the task required only one man, Jed and Paul took the first watch while the others caught some much needed sleep.
Jed stretched out in the mud on his belly, his sharp gaze trained on the only approach point, trying to ignore the warmth of the body beside him.
Paul brushed some dirt from Jed’s face. “You should rest too. You haven’t slept in two days.”
Jed’s heart drew him into Paul’s touch, drawing him closer and closer, until….
No.
His head won out, and he shrugged away from Paul’s hand. “Quit your nagging. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
…. MAX BALANCED perilously on the back of the boat and leaned out so far Jed could only see his legs and his strong hand gripping the jetty.
“What the hell are you doing?”
It was a phrase he often found himself throwing at Max. Sometimes he didn’t get an answer—mainly because Max didn’t seem to know—but this time he did.
“I missed a bit when I was painting. I didn’t see it until I was doing the dishes this morning. Can you believe that? I missed a whole section.”
Though Max couldn’t see him, Jed refrained from rolling his eyes. Max’s problem was his sketchy attention span. He hadn’t missed a bit—he’d forgotten he was painting at all and drifted off to do something else.
The trait was irritating and endearing in equal measure, but at times like this, when Max was dangerously close to falling into the icy lake, it was terrifying.
What if he slipped? Jed reckoned he could haul him back out pretty quick, but what if he fell in when Jed wasn’t here? The water was deep and cold at this time of year. Even a strong swimmer would flounder fast.
Jed had seen a drowned man once, when he was a child, not far from where Max’s cabin stood now. Aside from his own mother, it was the first dead body
he’d ever seen. He imagined Max being pulled from the lake, limp and lifeless, his lips blue and his dark, playful gaze shuttered forever.
A shudder passed through him. No. He couldn’t see it. Not him. Not Max. Not the man so bright and vibrant he made Jed’s eyes water….
Day Two
HE DIDN’T know the woman’s face, but her voice was familiar. She leaned over him, getting closer and closer until her eyes widened. “Well, look who’s waking up. Don’t move, honey. I’m going to wake Max, okay? You stay with me a moment.”
The words meant little to Jed. He heard a soft shuffling on the bed. The movement was slight, but it hurt like hell. What little sight he had faded away and someone groaned.
Shit, was that me?
Something warm touched his face, warm and rough, the calloused fingertips of an honest, hardworking hand. “Jed? Can you hear me? Jed?”
He knew that voice too, knew it like his own. Max. It had to be Max, right? He tried to force his eyes open again, but they hurt. Even the faint glimmer of light was too much.
“Jed? Can you hear me?”
I hear you, dammit.
He tried to respond, but nothing happened. He felt like he’d forgotten how to make his tongue work. He tried a deep breath. That didn’t work either. Something was rammed in his throat.
Panic surged through him, and with it came pain, real pain. Every part of him hurt—hurt so much he wanted to scream….
“Shh, Jed. It’s okay.”
Muffled voices washed over him, but he heard only one. The voice was soothing, and it matched the warmth gripping his hand. “Jed, they’re going to take the tube out, okay? You have to lie still.”
The intrusion in his throat slid out like a fire-breathing dragon. Hacking convulsions tore through his chest. The warmth in his hand rubbed his forearm and touched his face, but it wasn’t enough. He was out again before he could wonder if he’d ever really been awake.
Sometime later, Max seemed to notice Jed’s eyes were open before he did. “Jed? Hey, you squeezed my hand. Can you do it again?”
Jed tried, but by the downturn of Max’s lips, he guessed he failed. Wait. Max. He could see him. That was… new.
He stared at the face inches from him and took in the smooth skin, dark, gleaming eyes, straight white teeth and a smile that eased even the worst kind of pain. Yeah, that was Max all right. His hair was longer, though. In fact, the buzz of stubble was so long the ends were starting to twist into tight curls, betraying his momma’s Congolese roots.
“Jed, come on, it’s Max. Wake up for me.”
I am awake, and I know your goddamn name.
With a Herculean effort, he opened his eyes wider and raised his arm. He swiped clumsily at Max’s face, but Max got the hint and leaned closer. “What is it? What do you need?”
You.
Jed took a deep, painful breath and swallowed hard. “I… know who… you are.”
Day Three
SILENCE.
Pain.
Silence.
Pain.
Jed’s tormentor put a hand on his chest—a gloved hand, he could smell the latex—and pressed hard.
“If you’re tired, go with it, I’ve got all night, but if you’re feeling up to it, I can sit you up and go through some of what you’ve missed.”
Bastard.
Jed raised his left arm—his right wasn’t working so well yet—and rubbed his face until Dr. Howarth came into focus. “I’m awake.”
“Good.” Dr. Howarth smiled. “I’m going to raise the bed up now. You might feel a little dizzy.”
Jed braced himself, but the warning turned out to be unfounded. Sitting upright didn’t feel any worse than lying flat on his back. If anything, his foggy brain felt clearer, like he’d pulled his head from a pit of sand.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” Jed nodded slowly, taking in the unfamiliar room. “How long have I been in here?”
“A week. Do you know what happened?”
Jed thought on it a moment. Max had tried explaining the massive black hole in his head, and Dan too, but not much of what they said made any sense, and he’d come to the conclusion that they didn’t understand it themselves. “A blood infection? From the… endoscopy?”
“We’re not sure of the source, it could’ve been the IVs, or something airborne, but yes, it was an infection. You gave us quite a scare when you went septic.”
Septic. Jed understood that word, and it went some way to explaining the fading blue marks on his torso. He’d seen marks like that on children dying of malaria. A week, though? Damn. That was a long time to lose.
Another doctor came in, and together with Dr. Howarth, he explained a little more. For the most part, Jed tried to listen, but much of what they said went over his head. He stored some of it away to decipher later, but when the other doctor left the room, he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been eager to sit up, but now, without Max to stare at, it seemed hardly worth the effort.
“He went with your Army friend to get some supper.”
Jed frowned. No part of that sentence made any sense. He hadn’t spoken out loud, had he? And the only Army people he would ever call friends were dead or— His mind failed him. It was abrupt and disturbing, like his train of thought had flashed right by without stopping at the station to pick up the rest of his conscious thought.
Without warning, Dr. Howarth lowered the bed rail and sat on the side of the bed. A strange sensation crept over his face. He flinched. What the hell?
Dr. Howarth squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. I know you feel like you’ve been hit by a—” A buzzing noise cut him off. He swore under his breath and pressed something above Jed’s head. The door opened. He spoke over his shoulder. “Can you see if anyone is around for Jed right now?”
The creeping feeling on Jed’s face returned. He swiped at it with his good hand, and his fingers came away wet.
Great. No wonder Dr. Howarth was watching him like he was about to explode. He was crying like a baby without even knowing.
He covered his face with his hand and willed it to stop. The feeling was peculiar, and one he didn’t quite understand. The tears were real enough, but there was no change in his breathing, or tightness in his chest.
Just a fucking wet face I could do without.
Dr. Howarth left the room. Someone else took his place. Whoever it was set something down on the bedside table, but didn’t speak. The familiar smell of rooibos tea drifted into Jed’s conscious mind, but he knew the new face in the room wasn’t Max.
He opened his eyes, expecting to see Anna, or maybe Carla. The last person he expected to see was Nick.
Day Five
JED DREW his hand over the bristly buzz of hair on Max’s unshaven head. The tight curls tickled his palm, but Max didn’t respond. He was fast asleep, slumped forward on the bed with his head on his arms.
Jed retracted his hand. It felt weird to be wide awake with Max sound asleep beside him. For months, it had been their own brand of normal, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had the privilege of seeing Max truly at peace.
Not that his uncomfortable catnap in the chair seemed particularly peaceful. The sporadic jolts through his body saw to that.
Jed turned his gaze to the window, content to have some much craved quiet time with Max. He’d thought he’d have more privacy back in the gastro department, but it seemed he was doomed to become a spectator sport. A different face stared back at him every time he opened his eyes, and some were more welcome than others.
His ICU encounter with Nick had been awkward. At that point, Jed could barely remember his own name, but he knew Nick wasn’t supposed to be there. His explanation made little sense, and the warm mug of tea he held to his lips for him even less. Jed had drifted off soon after, not convinced he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. The next time he’d thought to ask, Max told him Nick had returned to rehab that very night.
A sudden blow to his kidney
knocked the breath from Jed’s lungs. Max jolted awake with a violent jerk. His arm shot out again and caught Jed with another glancing blow to his ribs.
Jed felt the impact like a wrecking ball. White spots danced in front of his eyes, even as he reached out to restrain Max’s flailing arms, and nausea rolled deep in the pit of his stomach.
Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.
He didn’t, but by the time he’d collected himself, Max was on his feet, his hands clamped over his mouth in horror. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Another fissure fractured Jed’s heart as he took in Max’s exhausted face and haunted, deep-circled dark eyes. Jed pressed a hand to his chest, as though he could push the pain away, and reached out with the other. “I’m… okay.” He stopped, reaching for breath that wasn’t there. “Max, I’m fine. It’s okay. Come here, Max. Please?”
Max stared at him, his expression torn, then he shook his head, backed away, and fled the room before Jed could find the words to stop him.
Fuck. Jed gritted his teeth and sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. He disconnected his IV, ready to go looking for Max, but faltered before his feet even hit the floor.
It took him a moment to figure out the problem, and when he did, he almost laughed. It seemed ironic that, for once, his body was way ahead of his mind, and he couldn’t remember how to put one foot in front of the other, or even why he wanted to do it.
And that was how Carla found him a little while later.
“Max is fine,” she said before he remembered to ask. “Dan took him back to the cabin to get some real rest. He’s been sleeping on my couch for the past two weeks.”
Jed winced as it all came rushing back. “Is he okay? He went….” He waved his hand in front of his eyes, grasping for the right words. “It wasn’t a seizure, but—”
Carla cut him off. “He’s fine, just exhausted. We’ll take care of him for you. Don’t ever worry about that.
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