Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
We get about halfway home before Brady stops and looks up at me. “What if he doesn’t come back?”
The right answer here is to say that we grieve and move on. It’s what you have to do. But the words don’t leave my mouth. They can’t.
Accepting it as a possibility, even if it’s an almost certainty, isn’t in me. Not yet. Not now. I can’t break down because I don’t think anything or anyone would be able to pick me back up.
I open my mouth to answer some bullshit about being positive and that he’ll be okay when Brady’s eyes fill with tears.
“I can’t lose him,” he whispers. “We can’t lose him.”
Brady’s plea is the thing that breaks that last little piece of me that’s holding on to control. I would give Brady anything he wanted, anything he asked for, but some things aren’t in the realm of possibility.
I know Brady needs me, just as much as I need him. But where he had the strength to pull out his supportive side last night, all my effort is trying to keep myself upright.
I’m almost relieved when my phone rings in my pocket. That is, until I take it out and see who’s calling.
“Who is it?” Brady asks.
“Prescott’s mom,” I say numbly.
This is either one of her check-in calls, which haven’t stopped even after I moved across the country and away from her son, or the navy has called her with news about Prescott.
“I … I can’t answer it.” I’m not ready to accept whatever she has to say.
“Want me to?” Brady holds out his hand.
“I can’t ask you to—”
“You’re not. I need to know.” He slips the phone out of my hand easily and answers. “Hi, Mrs. Prescott. Kit can’t come to the phone right now.”
There’s a pause before Brady’s lips twitch.
“My name is Brady. I’m a friend of Pr—uh, Jimmy and Kit.”
She says something else.
“Am I what friend?” There’s a sudden burst of laughter from him. “Uh, yeah, I guess I am that friend, though I’m not sure how I feel about the boy-toy label.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mumble and take the phone from him. “Hi, Abbey. Please tell me you’ve heard from Jim.”
“Now, now, Guy Kitchener, I was just getting to know yours and Jimmy’s boyfriend.”
Hope bursts in my chest because if she was concerned, she wouldn’t be so focused on torturing us with embarrassment.
“He told you about that?” I’m sure he didn’t use the boyfriend label, or boy toy for that matter, but he actually told them about us?
“He did. Right before he was sent on that training op that almost killed him.”
“Almost … You mean—”
“They called a while ago. Jimmy’s okay. He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be fine. We’re hopping on a plane as soon as we can to come see him. I’ve called Jack, Jenny, and Justin, but Jack’s working on a big case, Jenny doesn’t have a babysitter for the kids, and Justin isn’t in the country. I was hoping—”
“Where is he?”
“VA hospital in Richmond.”
“We’re on our way.”
“Thank you.” She has that motherly tone that I’d never once experienced with my own mom. Not even before I came out and she decided she didn’t want anything to do with me. “He shouldn’t be alone. But before you go, put Brady back on. He sounded cute.”
“Bye, Abbey.” I end the call.
“He’s okay?” Brady asks.
“He’s in the hospital. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
brady
When Kit said Prescott’s “a little banged up,” according to his mom, all I could think was how happy I am that he’s alive. But seeing Prescott in a hospital bed, drugged up to the point of him being unconscious ninety percent of the time, unable to move, his leg in a full cast to above his knee, and seeing Kit’s reaction to it, I realize my SEALs, my Kit and Prescott, are more human than the pedestal I’ve put them on for years.
I’ve always seen them as big, strong men who are indestructible. Here and now, when they’re both in need, it’s easy for me to slip into caretaker mode.
Kit’s passed out in the visitor’s chair next to Prescott—somewhere he refuses to move from—so I’ve been doing coffee runs and making sure he eats while we wait for brief moments of lucidity from Prescott. Which, there haven’t really been any.
I’m pretty sure he’s under the impression we’re a drug-induced hallucination. It’s actually kinda cute.
The hospital is quiet, considering it’s midafternoon. We’ve been here since yesterday after his mom called, but no one has told us to leave yet. There’s no point trying to convince Kit to go home to get some rest because if he said it to me, I wouldn’t do it either.
This is not how I thought our next meetup would go.
The door to Prescott’s room is open, nurses have been coming and going, and as irrational as it is, every time someone passes the room, I fear it’s going to be Prescott’s parents. His mom was lovely on the phone, her friendly and somewhat embarrassing nature reminded me of my dads, but meeting them? When they know about our … unconventional relationship which isn’t really a relationship but also is? I’m nervous.