Page 102 of Out of the Storm

Jeff tried to smile. “Nah, I’m okay.”

Gary hummed a little. “You know, I was thinking of reading for a while, maybe checking out one of those books you brought me. Oh! Maybe that book on overcoming grief! Wow, what a perfect present that turned out to be. So, maybe I’ll camp out on the love seat in the studio room. And then you can catch some z’s in here. I mean, I wouldn’t want to keep you up with my reading.”

Guilt wrapped around Jeff like a blanket. He knew that this was Gary’s way of letting him have the bed to himself for the night without calling attention to it.

Perfect Gary Graham.

“Yeah, okay,” Jeff said.

He reached for Gary’s hand and squeezed it. Gary squeezed back.

“Night, Jeffrey.”

“Night, Gare Bear.”

Even after Gary left the room, Jeff stayed curled in a little ball, feeling utterly pathetic.

Would he ever be the man he needed to be? One who was worthy of Gary’s love?

***

Pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen roused Jeff from slumber. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jeff let out a groan before rolling onto his back. Every inch of his body was sore. After a stretch, he staggered to the bathroom to take a piss, his spent muscles screaming louder with every step. Talking with Don had really taken it out of him. He’d been so Goddamn tired he hadn’t even removed his pants before falling asleep.

Washing his hands, Jeff caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink in Gary’s bathroom. He looked like shit. Had his face ever looked so puffy before? Christ, had he been crying in his sleep? It certainly looked like it.

Not wanting to embarrass himself further by exposing Gary to what he knew was likely some really rancid morning breath, Jeff borrowed Gary’s toothbrush and cleaned his teeth. When he was finished, he made his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Gary said as soon as Jeff rounded the corner, his voice so full of tenderness it made Jeff’s fast-brewing caffeine headache even worse. Jeff wished he could muster up the will to be even half as sweet.

Leaning against the doorframe, Jeff tried to pull himself into the present, though the thick cloud of sleep had yet to completely lift from his mind.

When the scent of onion powder and thyme hit Jeff’s nostrils, he wrinkled his nose and smiled. Gary was making breakfast? Of course he was. Jeff’s hazy eyes found the stove. Scrambled eggs were sizzling in a pan. Very yellow ones. So, maybe eggs with cheddar.

“Hi,” Jeff finally mustered, rubbing the back of his neck and willing himself to fully wake. “Don’t you have a morning show?Flour Hour?”

“Yeah, but I have a couple of carts.”

“Carts?”

“Sorry, uhm, Fidelipac cartridges. Magnetic tapes. For, uh, playback material?” Gary said, his voice hitching up at the end. Jeff could only stare. He really needed a cup of coffee. Or four. “You know, for jingles or commercials or long, rambling facts about hot chocolate like the few that I recorded at four o’clock this morning so that I could slip in and out of the program to check on you and eventually make you breakfast.”

“Oh.” Jeff’s mind was still a little too muddled to keep up. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, so, I’ve been cheating my listeners a little and playing these three on a bit of a loop interspersed with some music. Each one is ten minutes, and so—” Gary looked up at the clock. “Oh! Shoot!” He pushed past Jeff to head to the studio room. “Watch the eggs for me!”

Finally called to action, Jeff forced himself to move to the stove. He stirred the eggs once with the spatula and then picked up the coffee pot to check if there was some of his favorite beverage left. It was nearly full. He found a mug and poured himself a cup. After stirring the eggs once more, Jeff turned off the stove and checked the clock on the wall. Eight fifteen. Damn. Poor Gary had been up for hours.

After Jeff finished portioning out the eggs onto a couple of plates, Gary came back into the kitchen slightly out of breath.

“Okay, I think I have, like, three minutes now because of the song.” The moment he saw the plate of eggs, his face broke into a huge, adorable grin. “Hey, thanks!”

Immediately, Gary started shoveling forkfuls into his mouth. Meanwhile, Jeff had yet to even take a bite.

“Sorry,” Gary said. “I’m starving. I was worried about waking you so I held off on cooking. I had a whole pot of coffee to myself, though. So, if I can’t seem to shut up, now you know why.”

Warmth bloomed on Jeff’s cheeks. Gary was too wonderful for words.

But Jeff barely had a chance to let himself bask in the wonders of being cared for before his stomach started to sour from guilt. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one taking care of Gary?

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