Page 114 of Out of the Storm

“I’m talking about the Graham Cracker taking on Don Juan himself!”

Jeff’s heavy-lidded eyes snapped open, and every bit of lingering tiredness rushed out of his system with his next exhale.

“Wait, what? Gary tried to fight Don?”

“Yep. ‘Try’ being the operative word. Or so Gary said. I’m not really sure what happened, but when I saw your beau, I have to say, he’s certainly seen some better days. Face bloody. Glasses broken. Could have sworn he was limping too. Guess Melanie took him home. Or to the ER. Who knows.”

Jeff shook his head. “Gary fought Don?!”

“Like I said, I’m not sure. All I know is that you better buy him some flowers or something. Are men into flowers? If not, maybe a six pack’ll work.”

“Fuck, I need to find him.” Chewing on his lip, Jeff tried to work out whether he should head to Gary’s first or the closest hospital. “Can non-family members visit people in the hospital?”

“Probably not.”

“Damn.”

“Gary really never called you?”

“No,” Jeff said before running a hand over his face. Why wouldn’t he have called? Was Gary worried he would be mad? Maybe hewasa little miffed, but mostly because he knew he should have been the one to try to kick Don’s sorry ass himself. Fuck. “Did the cops come?”

“Nah, Gary wasn’t really up for calling them.”

And Brandon had probably tried to stay out of it. Jeff couldn’t blame him. Don was... yeah.

“Okay. Thanks for calling me. I think I’ll try to find Gary now.”

“Jeff, that man would kill for you. Or die for you, most likely.”

Jeff felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Didn’t matter the potential severity of a situation, Brandon could never resist a joke. Jeff had to love him for it.

“See ya, Bran.”

Quickly, Jeff replaced the receiver and then threw on a pair of lightly worn pants he found by his hamper. He sniffed his shirt once to make sure it wasn’t too offensive. Thankfully, it seemed tolerable. Knowing Gary, he’d probably like the smell.

Still in a bit of a fog, Jeff hurried to his car.

He pulled into the driveway at Gary’s house a few minutes later. Every light was off except for the light to the studio. Stomach in knots, Jeff jumped out of his car and jogged up to the porch, then began to bang his fist on the door.

“Who is it?” Gary said from the other side

It took Jeff a moment to find his words. Gary had nevernotanswered right away. Without even knowing who it was. Gary was so friendly and open that he probably thought the whole concept of privacy was overrated.

“Uh, me. Jeff.” As though his voice wouldn’t have been enough.

“Oh!”

Click.

Was that the deadbolt? Now Gary was locking doors? What the fuck had Don—

Every thought left Jeff’s head the moment he saw Gary’s face.

“Hey,” Gary said sheepishly.

Bile rose up Jeff’s throat, preventing him from responding. Poor Gary’s nose was swollen, with a tiny cut up high on the ridge. His eyes were puffy, too, maybe partially from crying, but there seemed to be the start of some bruising. Other than those very obvious injuries (and the messiness of his beautiful brown locks), he looked... okay-ish. Was there more?

“Fuck,” Jeff finally sputtered, pushing past the sour lump in his throat. He stepped through the threshold, reaching out a hand toward Gary’s face. Gary pulled back a little, his cheeks suddenlyturning pink. Softening his voice, Jeff said, “Baby, I’m here. It’s okay.”

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