Edge Jump

by Elizabeth Noble

  Rylan saw Brett’s lips quiver and felt how his hand trembled. He turned his hand and threaded his fingers through Brett’s. “Thank you.” Drawing in a shaking breath Rylan finally screwed up the courage to voice another concern. “I can’t really—”

  Brett cut him off. “The next time I hear ‘I can’t’ it’d better be accompanied by your safeword. Got it?”

  Rylan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Brett leaned forward and kissed Rylan’s forehead. “We’ll get through this.”

  “I really didn’t like the sponge bath very much.”

  Brett barked a laugh. “I don’t think the Japanese kid is that cute.” He looked down at Rylan’s leg. “They took all the stuff off.”

  “Yeah.” Rylan nodded. “I’m allowed to shower and everything, just like a big boy. I think today or tomorrow I’ll get fitted for a brace I can wear all the time and eventually walk in.” He picked up a material brace connected to a pump. “In the meantime, I have this cooling one if I need it. It’s more portable than the metal thing they had on me right after surgery.”

  “Hmm.” Brett scooted closer and ran one hand along Rylan’s side then down his good leg. He pressed his mouth to Rylan’s in a soft kiss. Rylan opened his lips to Brett’s tongue and in no time their kiss turned to hunger. Brett’s hand on his leg moved in gentle circles near Rylan’s hip. When Rylan’s breathing was short and quick, Brett broke their kiss and leaned back. “I suppose that shower is only big enough for one of us, so, when you’re in there, if you feel up to it, give yourself some relief.”

  A ripple of pleasure coursed through Rylan and hit his knee with unexpected results. The muscles of his leg twitched and jerked. “Oh, ow, ow, knee, knee.” Rylan’s quick breaths of arousal turned to pants of pain.

  Brett jerked back. “I’m sorry. What did I do? I’m sorry.”

  Rylan laid back against the pillow, pulling in deep breaths and blowing them out almost immediately. He closed his eyes and squeezed Brett’s hand for a few minutes then let go and rested his palm on Brett’s chest.

  “Nothing. You didn’t do anything,” Rylan whispered. “Muscle spasm. Not the fun kind.” He gave Brett’s chest a pat. “I think I’ll wait a week or so before I…”

  Did he just tell his Dom no?

  If Brett took exception, he didn’t show it. Smiling, he brushed one hand through Rylan’s hair a few times. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. What can I do?”

  Rylan shook his head. “You didn’t. I never thought…I’m okay.” He reached for the special wrap that hooked up to cool water. “Would you help me with this?”

  “Sure.” Brett wrapped the thick material around Rylan’s knee in the way they’d been taught. He filled the pump on the floor with water and attached the hoses. While the water ran through, cooling the wrap Brett sat on the bed, gently rubbing Rylan’s head.

  After a little time, Rylan relaxed. “That feels better.”

  “Do you want me to ask the nurses for more pain killers?”

  Rylan shook his head. “I had them. The only thing left is narcotics and…no. I don’t want addiction added to all this fun.”

  Brett didn’t argue. They’d both seen it enough. Some injury that required stronger than normal pain killers which sometimes led to illegal drugs, and that more times than not resulted in ruined lives and overdose.

  “When did the arthritis happen?” Brett asked softly.

  Rylan shrugged. “It’s been creeping up on me for a while. It’s the reason Celia and I transitioned to performance and ice dancing. Less stress on the joints, she was having some issues as well, though not as much as I was. We were scaling back on the lifts and jumps gradually. That’s the nice thing about performing, no required movements.”

  Jack arrived a short time later, pushing a wheelchair into the room. He glanced at Brett and said, “Hospital regulations.”

  “Besides that, this place is huge. I’d never find my way.” Rylan disconnected the brace from the pump and hopped the short distance to the wheelchair on one foot. Jack placed it far enough away for Rylan to have to take at least a few steps.

  Chuckling, Jack added, “Hospital admin frowns on us letting the patients get lost.”

  “They wander onto the alien autopsy floor too much?” Brett asked, completely deadpan.

  Jack grinned and pointed at him. “Exactly!” He reached down and released the wheelchair brakes then patted Rylan’s shoulder. “You should keep him, he’s got a good sense of humor.”

  Brett gave Rylan’s shoulder a poke. “Hope it’s more than my sense of humor.”

  Rylan reached up and took Brett’s hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go. “Your sense of humor is one of many things I appreciate about you.”

  “Time to go,” Jack said and pushed Rylan’s wheelchair from the room and into the hallway. Brett trailed along beside them.

  When they arrived the place was deserted, other than one of the therapists. “Your brace is here. Lemme go grab it and we’ll get it on you.” He hurried through one of the doors marked employees only. Jack bid them good-bye, promising to return in an hour to get them back to Rylan’s room. Brett turned one way, then the other to look over the equipment. There was a walkway with bars on either side to help support Rylan while he walked, or more to the point, hobbled.

  Brett motioned to the parallel bars and caught Rylan’s eye. Bobbing his eyebrows, he said, “We can do a lot of things with something like this.” He sighed dramatically. “I should have told Gloria to order two.”

  Rylan didn’t have a chance to respond. The therapist returned with the leg and knee brace Rylan would be wearing while the bones of his leg knitted. He made some adjustments then showed Rylan and Brett how to fit the brace.

  “This part, here, is locked for now.” He indicated the piece against the side of Rylan’s knee. “It’ll be adjusted as you heal. This lower part probably won’t be required after your leg is mended and the pins removed. You’ll be able to get along pretty well with just a cane and wearing this. It can be worn over or under clothing. Eventually, hopefully, you won’t need it, but you might need a cane. Sometimes the balance is affected and people like a cane for added support. Also, most people see someone with a cane and they’re more careful not to bump or jostle them.” He tapped the back of Rylan’s hand. “You’ll have to judge what’s best for you as time goes on and you get more strength in that leg.”

  “What about ice skating?” Rylan asked. These people had to understand it was imperative he could skate again.

  The therapist looked at him. “How old were you when you learned to skate?”

  “Three.”

  “It’s likely you were walking two years before that. Let’s get you walking and stable first. You won’t be doing quads, but as long as you keep your blades on the ice I don’t see why it won’t be possible eventually. If I were you, I’d wait until you’re healed. Take a spill and fall on that knee and you might do further damage, not to mention it’ll hurt even more than it does now.”

  Rylan nodded. “Thank you for not saying I’ll never skate again.”

  The therapist smiled. “You’ll skate if you want to, but not the way you used to. I’ve seen people who should never walk, dance at a wedding a year later. I never say never. I do, however, say one small step at a time.” He set the brace to the side. “We’ll start with some exercises, then you can put this on and we’ll work with it.”

  After completing a series of movements, the brace was fitted onto his leg. Rylan was already feeling fatigued and his pain was climbing. The entire time Brett sat quietly off to the side, watching. If having Brett at rehearsals and his performances was comforting and helped Rylan stay centered, his presence now offered the same, times a thousand. Every glance in Brett’s direction was met with a nod or soft smile of encouragement. Rylan kept telling himself, one more stretch, one more exercise, he only had to concentrate on doing one more.

  Once the brace was in place, Ryl
an had to practice walking between the parallel bars, and up and down a set of stairs. It didn’t take long before he was struggling and panting through the pain. When he took a break, Brett came close and rubbed his shoulders.

  “If you do everything this guy asks you to do today, first chance we get, I’ll make you hurt in the way you like,” Brett whispered in Rylan’s ear.

  Rylan turned his head far enough to whisper back, “Thank you, sir.”

  Brett’s words, and the promise of the cooling wrap waiting in his room, gave Rylan a second burst of energy and he managed to get through yet another session. The shower he took after his workout was as welcome as Jack’s arrival with the wheelchair.

  “If you two don’t mind, there is one stop I was asked to make,” Jack said.

  Brett put one hand on Rylan’s shoulder as they headed toward the elevator. “Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah, as long as I can sit in this chair for a bit,” Rylan assured him.

  “It’ll only take a few minutes.” Jack wheeled Rylan through the elevator door and pushed the button for the floor below Rylan’s. When the doors opened they were across from a large nurse’s desk. There were no rooms or beds in sight and to the right of the desk were double doors, a hand washing station and containers with surgical masks.

  A woman wearing a suit walked from behind the desk, holding her hand out. “Mr. Hennessey, Mr. Rocha. I’m Louisa Shapiro, I’m in charge of patient care.” She shook both their hands and continued. Motioning to the doors to their right she smiled and said, “I normally wouldn’t ask this of another patient, but you two are sort of famous around here. This is our pediatric oncology unit.” She paused and Brett and Rylan looked at each other. “I know this is a lot to ask but it would—”

  “Absolutely,” Rylan said.

  “What do you need us to do?” Brett asked a split second later.

  “If you could just spend an hour or two with these kids. They’d love it.”

  “We’re leaving day after tomorrow, so is tomorrow too soon to put something together?” Brett asked.

  Louisa’s face split into a huge grin. “Not at all. Thank you so much.”

  Once they returned to Rylan’s room they made a plan that required a few phone calls. By the next morning boxes of hockey jerseys and equipment arrived along with dance shoes and show programs as well as a few extra people. One of Rylan’s outfits had been modified with an extra panel in the right leg to hide his brace.

  Several of the skating troupe performers and some of Brett’s former team mates arrived and they all headed to the elevator. It was clear from the shocked expressions of the parents and medical staff that greeted them, they hadn’t expected so much. After spending some time going from room to room, giving out dance shoes, hockey pucks, jerseys, and programs—all autographed, they moved all the children to a common area. There was a big screen television and provisions for those who were bedbound.

  Rylan moved his wheelchair to the front, near the television. “We couldn’t get ice in here, trust me we tried.” That brought a round of giggles from his audience. “So, I hope this will do.” He held up a DVD then handed it off to one of the doctors who slipped it into the player and switched the television on.

  The recording of a Celebration on Ice performance had been the request of one of the parents and easy enough to provide. Not particularly excited about watching himself skate, Rylan guided the wheelchair to the back and positioned it beside Louisa.

  “How many of these kids will die?” Rylan asked in a low voice.

  Louisa clasped her hands in front of her and shook her head. “We avoid thinking about that. However, the truth is, too many of them won’t reach their twentieth birthday.”

  “They’re all so cheerful. I didn’t expect to hear them laugh and make so much noise and have fun,” Rylan confessed. “How can they be that way?”

  “Because the alternative of dwelling on what we can’t change is so much worse than a disease,” Louisa said. Rylan knew she’d had this conversation, or a version of it, many times. “These kids definitely teach you to live for today and be happy with what you have.”

  Brett and the other guests were sitting with some of the children, quietly engrossed in a project while they watched the video. By the time the video was over, Rylan saw how fidgety many of the children had become.

  “How about we get some blood flowing?” Brett stood up and crossed so he was standing in front of the TV. “Who here likes hockey?” Hands shot into the air accompanied by squeals and shouts. Grinning mischievously, Brett tossed a wadded-up ball of paper into the air and caught it. He looked at the other two hockey players, “What do you say, men, think they can beat us?”

  The parents and medical staff were only too happy to help with the impromptu hockey game Brett organized and in no time paper pucks were flying through the corridor. Since Rylan was in a wheelchair, he joined the patients’ team. One little girl of about twelve taught him how to spin the chair in circles. Seeing how excited and happy, and the difference they were making in these children’s lives, even for an afternoon, made Rylan forget how much he hurt.

  After the last ‘puck’ was shot past the goalie, Rylan announced, “Pro players, three. Ward patients…” he consulted the scoreboard, which was actually a white board set up in front of the television. “…nine.” He exaggerated a yawn. “I’m beat, I’m old and need my nap.” He waved at the hockey players. “Not so tough, are they?”

  “Yeah, where were all you guys when we were in the play-offs. Could have used your skills!” Brett added. The man truly liked children.

  Rylan said his good-byes, which took another half hour, and Jack took control of the wheelchair, guiding him back to his room.

  “What you two did today, that was really nice. Thank you. Louisa is a friend, my kid sister was here once,” Jack said. “You have no idea what it means to these kids and does for them.”

  Rylan was afraid to ask, but he had to know. “Did your sister…was she cured?”

  “No. She spent her last months here. It was events like this one that were very special to her and my family.”

  Rylan looked up at Jack as he opened the door to Rylan’s room. “I’m so sorry. Brett’s sister was my best friend. She didn’t die from cancer, but she did die.” He didn’t know what else to say so a change of subject was in order. “Will you be here tomorrow? I’m leaving late morning.”

  Jack nodded. “I wouldn’t miss seeing you and your man off for anything.” After seeing that Rylan was safely in bed and assuring he didn’t need anything, Jack left and Rylan was alone, finally.

  Rylan was relieved that Brett had offered to hang back and help clean up, he had created part of the mess with the paper hockey pucks after all. Dimming the lights, Rylan shifted around until he was as comfortable as possible and drifted off to his nap.

  When Rylan woke up he was stiff and his knee throbbed. It was a struggle getting out of bed without help, but he was alone. He inched out of bed, stopping to rest at the edge. Dragging in deep breaths and blowing them out, Rylan gingerly eased down onto his good foot and stood still for a few seconds to get his balance.

  Brett shouldered through the door, a tall, paper cup in each hand. “Oh, shit, let me—”

  “No.” Rylan cut him off. “I can do this.”

  Without saying a word, Brett nodded and set the cups down before sitting on the end of the bed. Fifteen minutes later Rylan hobbled out of the bathroom and to the bed. He sat and gripped the edge with both hands, panting in and blowing out deep breaths, eyes squeezed shut against the tears.

  Finally, the throbbing eased and Rylan shimmied completely onto the bed. Brett silently held out the cooling wrap. Once it was in place he reached down and turned it on for Rylan. The water began circulating and the throbbing lessened even more. He leaned back against the pillow.

  “Those kids were happy,” Rylan said.

  Brett nodded. “Pretty amazing they can laugh and enjoy paper hocke
y pucks considering what they go through every day, chemo, surgeries, who knows what else.” He stood up, crossed the room, and picked up the cups before he sat beside Rylan and held one out to him.

  Rylan took the cup in both hands and took a sip, sighing as he drank. “That’s good coffee, thank you.” He drank more of the steamy, warm liquid. “We’ll be home by this time tomorrow?”

  Brett nodded. “Yes, we should be.”

  Rylan reached out with one hand, took Brett’s, and nodded. “It’ll be good to be back there. I’m looking forward to it.”

  That was the truth, too.

  Chapter 13

  Brett quietly chastised himself for chartering a jet that they’d share with a few other passengers. He and Rylan were more than ready for some quality private time. They’d spent an hour that morning saying good-bye to several of the hospital staff they’d become friendly with and who’d taken care of Rylan the most. Next on their agenda was a brief conversation with Lindsey Swift regarding when they’d need to return for the Sweenys’ trial. She hadn’t been able to provide a timeline yet, but promised they’d have plenty of notice to arrange travel and so on.

  Dr. Morrell had left the day before, stopping in Rylan’s room on her way to the airport. They wouldn’t see her again until the pins were removed from Rylan’s leg, unless he had complications.

  Fortunately, so far, there’d been no physical difficulties with Rylan’s healing.