Brandon didn’t look convinced. “If the job is that easy on you, why is it doing this to you?”
“I’m not crashing, I swear. I’m going to take it easy today and tomorrow and I’ll be fine on Monday.”
Brandon finally leaned in and kissed him, cupping his cheek and stroking it with his thumb. “Okay. I trust you to tell me the truth about how you’re doing.”
“I will. Absolutely.”
One more kiss, then Brandon headed out. Once Jeff was convinced he was alone, he forced himself to sit up in bed and it took every ounce of energy he had not to cry at how badly it hurt.
After a trip to the bathroom, he slowly made his way to the kitchen and took his meds, made a bowl of oatmeal, ate it, and carried his coffee out to the lanai. There, he sank into the hot tub and waited for it to work its magic. Thirty minutes later, he felt worlds better and settled on the couch to nap.
That’s all I needed. Just some time. I’ll be fine.
* * * *
That night, as Jeff lay snuggled in bed with Brandon and Stuart, Stuart started nibbling on Jeff’s ear.
Jeff’s heart sank.
Not even his cock wanted to play, despite it having been several days since he’d busted a nut.
Not a single damn twitch from it, where usually Stuart doing that to him would make him instantly hard.
Jeff kissed Stuart. “I want to watch tonight, buddy.”
Brandon scowled. “Are you all right?”
“Just saving my energy for tomorrow.” Jeff forced a smile he didn’t feel. “I think our boy needs a cock hammered in his ass, and you are just the Master to give it to him.”
Jeff prayed Brandon didn’t press him any harder than that, because he didn’t want to admit the truth.
And he knew he couldn’t lie.
Brandon leaned in for a long, tender kiss from Jeff. “Okay. If you say so.”
Stuart eagerly flipped onto his hands and knees while Brandon grabbed a condom and lube and prepared both Stuart and himself. Jeff helped out by kissing Stuart and reaching under the man, where his cock was already hard and leaking pre-cum.
“That’s it,” Brandon said as he knelt between Stuart’s legs. “Let him take care of you while I pound this sweet ass. I would suggest not coming before me, because I’m in the mood to last a while. By suggest, I mean don’t.”
Stuart kissed Jeff, whining, sweet needy vibrations against Jeff’s lips and tongue as Brandon worked his cock into the other man’s ass.
Jeff shifted position slightly, so he could press Stuart’s mouth against his shoulder and hold his hair tightly fisted with one hand, while still able to reach and jack his cock with the other.
He wasn’t so much jacking at that point as Stuart was humping Jeff’s hand while Brandon fucked him.
And Brandon fucked him, shaking Stuart and the bed, long, slow drags out and fast, hard thrusts in that Jeff knew would have Stuart begging to nut pretty soon.
The fact that Jeff’s cock remained totally soft, even as the two men he loved fucked in his arms, bothered him. Bad pain and fatigue did that to him, though. This was just…an adjustment period.
It’ll be better next week.
But later, after Stuart and Brandon had exhausted each other and fell asleep on either side of him, cuddling against him, Jeff lay awake and wondered if it really was that simple.
* * * *
Sunday morning, Stuart stood in the kitchen, waiting for the coffeepot to deliver enough hot go-juice to fill Brandon and Jeff’s mugs so he could take it to them in their bedroom.
He didn’t like how exhausted Jeff had seemed yesterday.
It’d been a topic of conversation between them yesterday while they’d been out, including Grace and Emma. Brandon wanted them keeping an eye on Jeff’s condition. They reported he’d seemed more tired and in pain lately, even though he apparently stubbornly refused to admit it.
When Stuart had suggested simply confronting Jeff about it, Brandon put his foot down.
“He’s an adult. We have to let him work through this. I don’t want you harassing him about it.”
“But he’s going to crash himself again!” Stuart protested.
“I know.”
Even Grace and Emma had stopped and stared at Brandon as if they couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “What?”
“I know he’s going to crash himself.” Brandon turned to them. “We have to let him. It’s the only way he’ll listen. If I tell him to stop working now, before he realizes it, he’ll eventually blame me when he feels better. We are his safety net. We will stand there and be ready to catch him and love him when he falls.”
“Pop, I love you,” Grace said, “but you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He’d turned his gaze on Emma. “Just like I couldn’t have forced you to move out of your mom’s house before you were ready.”
Emma’s face pinkened. “Yeah, I get it. I guess.”
“I don’t like it either,” Brandon agreed, “but it’s how we’re approaching this. Making him defensive will only make it worse as he tries to hold out longer. If we love him and let him figure this out on his own, he’ll admit it sooner than if he thinks he needs to prove something. Okay? I’m serious. You three are not allowed to bug him about this.”
It would seem Brandon had been correct.
When he had enough coffee for the men, Stuart fixed their mugs and took them in. Jeff still lay sound asleep, his face looking pinched with pain even now.
Brandon, who was lying with Jeff half sprawled over him, nodded. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Stuart leaned in to kiss Brandon, stroking his hair. “Breakfast?”
“Bring his water and meds in first. I’ll get him moving in a minute.”
“Okay.”
It was apparent by noon that day that Jeff was in massive pain.
But Stuart and Brandon didn’t say anything about that, pretending all was well, even when Stuart saw how Jeff was barely able to climb into the hot tub by himself.
Brandon walked up behind Stuart, where he stood at the kitchen sliders, watching.
He kissed Stuart’s neck. “Let him admit it in his own time.”
Stuart sighed. “I know.” His hands closed over Brandon’s, where the man had wrapped his arms around Stuart. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Me either, but it’s the only way.”
Stuart laid his head back against Brandon’s shoulder as they stood and watched Jeff try to mask his pain.
If only we could get him to admit it.
Chapter Twenty
After Jeff clocked out a little before one that Thursday afternoon, he sat in his truck and struggled not to burst into tears.
Only two weeks and two days into his job, getting technical if you counted from the very first day he started working, and he knew deep in his gut what had to happen, even though he still didn’t want to admit it. Not like he’d been working very strenuously, either. Wasn’t turning wrenches. Got to spend most of his shift sitting, or at least standing still and leaning on a counter.
In air-conditioning.
He hurt.
Everything hurt.
Even his goddamned hair hurt.
Not in the fun-time, oh, goodie, someone’s getting their ass caned kind of hurt, either.
This was the bad kind of pain. The bone-deep, teeth-grinding pain he knew meant he’d be in misery later that night, hurting so badly he’d feel nauseous. Hell, he almost was already. He recognized the signs.
Worse, he knew from the brain fog settling in that it wouldn’t simply make driving difficult, it’d make him dangerous on the road, to himself and others. He couldn’t focus, could barely see straight. Not something he could blame on Xanax, either, because he hadn’t been taking those since before Christmas. He still had half a bottle of the damn pills he hadn’t touched since then.
Plus his coordination sucked, another gift of Lyme that kept on giving, neurological symptoms to add to the happy-funtime mi
x of bullshit he had to deal with. He’d dropped things all morning, making it that much worse when he’d had to lean over to pick them up.
Before Lyme, he would have said this was the cushiest, easiest job he’d ever held.
There was no denying what had to happen next. He’d tried and…well, he couldn’t do it. His condition had quickly slid downhill, even though he’d done his best to deny, ignore, and explain away his worsening symptoms.
Brandon and Stuart hadn’t been haranguing him about it, either. Never pestering him, just the usual questions they asked the girls about how their day went.
Never asking him beyond the general how he felt.
And now, he couldn’t even fucking drive.
Brandon was working down at the Ft. Myers store today, and wasn’t due home until close to eight o’clock.
Stuart was working at a construction site in North Port.
Emma was in school for another two hours. Ditto Grace, who couldn’t drive, anyway.
Grace’s parents would be at work, as would his own parents and sister and Calvin.
Hating himself, he called the only person he could think of who might possibly be off work, or at least able to get off work easily, and who was close by.
When Tracey answered her cell, it took every ounce of will he had not to start crying. “Hey, Trace.”
“Jeff?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, trying to choke back his emotions. “I’m sorry to call you like this.”
“What’s wrong? Is Emma okay?”
“Yeah, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s…it’s me. I’m at work. I…” He sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t drive home. I’m sitting here in my damn truck, and I realized I can’t drive. I feel horrible. I’m sorry I’m calling you like this. If you can’t, I understand. But could you, please, come get…”
He dissolved into tears, all while she was trying to calm him down, which somehow made him feel even worse.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll come get you, honey. Where are you?” He told her. “I can be there in about twenty minutes.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“No, hey, it’s all right, sweetie. Let me finish what I’m working on real fast and get clocked out.”
He walked inside to tell his boss he had to leave his truck parked there until later—and that he wouldn’t be in tomorrow.
Possibly not for the rest of the week.
And why.
He could tell from the look on his boss’ face that he was sympathetic to Jeff’s plight, but probably already figuring how long he could wait before advertising the job without looking like an insensitive asshole.
By the time Jeff trudged out to his truck again, Tracey was pulling in. When he climbed into her car, he struggled to even get the seat belt fastened. It took him five tries to make the buckle line up right and he barely had the strength to push it into place to make it click.
She didn’t try to help him, didn’t take over and do it for him. She patiently waited until he’d fastened it and carefully leaned back in his seat.
“Thank you,” he hoarsely managed.
“Does Bran know?”
“No. He’s in Ft. Myers.”
“Stuart?”
“North Port. I didn’t call them.”
“You realize I have to rat you out to them, right? I cannot in good conscience not tell them. Even if I didn’t, Emma and Grace will.”
He sighed. “I know.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself, sweetie?”
“I don’t know anymore. I thought I did.”
She didn’t just drive him home. When she found out he hadn’t eaten lunch, she made him lie down on the sofa after he’d changed clothes and she fixed him soup and a glass of Gatorade and watched him take his meds.
Including a Xanax.
He officially declared defeat. He needed one today.
“I’m sorry I called you out of work for this. I’ll be okay now.”
“It’s okay, seriously. You’re family. Besides, Emma and Grace would kill me, if Brandon didn’t, if they knew I had a chance to help you and didn’t.” She smiled, so he took it the way he hoped she’d meant it, as a joke.
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to stay with you until somebody else gets home. I really don’t like your color. You’re too pale, and I can tell you’re having trouble with your coordination.”
“Yeah,” he quietly admitted. “I am. But you don’t have to stay. I’ll be okay.”
“Since you’re too stubborn to call Brandon or Stuart and tell them you’re having trouble, it means I’m staying.” She settled into one of the comfy chairs and grabbed the TV remote. “Let’s find something funny and mindless to watch, okay?”
“Okay.”
He managed to get the soup down and keep it down. Then he snuggled in with the two pillows he’d brought out from the bedroom and napped.
Jeff didn’t know if it was worse or better that it was Emma and Grace who returned home first and found out what happened. Emma had raced inside upon seeing her mom’s car parked in the driveway, closely followed by Grace.
As soon as Tracey told them what had happened, before Jeff could even beg Emma not to call Brandon, Emma was already on the phone with him and heading down the hallway to her bedroom, leaving Grace standing there and slowly shaking her head at Jeff.
“What?”
“You’re stubborn. You know that?”
“What happened to respecting your elders?”
Grace jabbed a finger at him. “What would have happened if you’d gotten halfway home and had an accident, huh? Hurt someone? How would you live with that?”
She had a point and he damn well knew it.
He pointed at Tracey. “That’s why I called her. Don’t I get credit for that, at least?”
Grace wasn’t finished. “I don’t know what it’ll take Pop and Stu to get through your stupid head that they don’t want you to work and they’re worried about you. We all are. I love you, just like Emma does. You’re one of my bonus dads, too, okay? When are you going to realize we love you and want to take care of you?”
This wasn’t a conversation he should be having with a not-quite seventeen-year-old and he knew it. “It’s not as simple as that.”
“It actually is,” Tracey said, standing. “I know I’m not exactly speaking from a secure spot because my glass house already has dozens of cracks in it. But Bran and Stu love you. Let them do what they want to do, which is take care of you.” She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I’ll clear out once Emma’s off the phone.”
The girl herself called from the hallway. “Mom? Dad wants to talk to you.”
Tracey smirked. “Oooh, you’re in trouble now.” She followed after Emma. After a few minutes, she returned with Emma’s phone and handed it to Jeff. “He wants to talk to you.”
Jeff almost didn’t want to take the phone, but he knew that would only put off the inevitable.
“Hi, Sir.”
He heard Brandon’s sigh from the other end of the connection. “Now will you please quit fighting us on this?”
He closed his eyes. “Yes, Sir,” he softly said.
“Thank you. Tracey’s agreed to hang out until after dinner. By the time I get home, you’d better have a doctor appointment scheduled for as soon as he can fit you in. If he says you’re getting another PICC line, you’re getting one. I’m done screwing around and being a nice guy about this. You’re putting your health at risk, so I’m playing both the Master card and the husband card. And this time, you’re not talking me out of it. It was against my better judgment to let you go back to work, except I knew how miserable you felt being at home all day. This isn’t helping—it’s only hurting you, in very bad ways. So now you tried it, it’s not working, and you’re going to listen to me. Deal?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Sir.”
“Give the phone back to Tracey,
please.”
He didn’t open his eyes as he held it out.
She took it. “Yeah?” He heard her talking to Brandon as she walked down the hall toward Emma’s room.
If he opened his eyes, he knew Grace would still be staring at him with whatever look she was going to give him.
Probably a look full of condemnation and I told you so’s. Which he fully knew he deserved at this point.
Didn’t mean he liked it.
“Just say it,” he finally said.
When he heard her sit on the far end of the couch, he finally opened his eyes.
“We love you,” she gently said. “You aren’t the only stranger to medical problems, okay? How do you think I feel sometimes? You think I like not feeling secure enough to drive yet and having to rely on people? When I was little, there was a lot of stuff I couldn’t do, and it upset me. I finally got around it by figuring out what I could do and getting really good at that.”
“Like what?”
“My brain, for starters. You’re not a stupid man. I know Pop and Stu would be happy to send you to college. You don’t have to have a job that’s physically taxing. Start a car blog or something. Write about stuff and monetize it with ads and affiliate links to Amazon. Write about the local car club scene. Blog about the work you’ve done on the Edsel. You’ve taken all those pictures as you’ve worked on it. Write blog posts. Use your imagination. I can help you with the website stuff, teach you how to set one up. It’s not hard.”
Tracey returned. “We have our marching orders. You two get your homework done and then I’ll help with dinner. Brandon’s going to try to get home earlier than he’d planned, and he’s calling Stuart.”
“They don’t need to do that,” Jeff said, now feeling worse that they were also disrupting their work schedules over him.
Three people who had jobs who he was now inconveniencing.
She pointed at him. “You have a doctor’s appointment to make.”
He sighed, retrieved his phone from the coffee table, and made the call. They could fit him in the next afternoon at four.
A Case of You Page 17
