Page 18 of Trevor Takes Care

“You must be in more pain than you’re letting on,” Trevor told him softly without looking up. Uncontrolled pain was never fun. “Did you take anything for it today? How much?”

G.G. sighed. His skin was hot to the touch, but nothing was infected that Trevor could see. “I had some ibuprofen this morning.”

“With breakfast?” Trevor clucked his tongue. “I’ll open the bottle for you so you can have some with dinner. Or I could set pills out for tonight and tomorrow morning?”

G.G. opened his mouth, but when Trevor glanced up, G.G. shut it again to swallow.

Trevor’s mouth was a little dry too. He gathered up the mess of soiled bandages and went to put it all in the garbage. Then he washed his hands before wetting a paper towel and returning to dab up some of the dried blood on G.G.’s hand that the hospital workers had missed. He held G.G.’s hand carefully by the wrist, trying to get the blood in the hair on his back his hand without causing even more discomfort. There was nothing to be done for G.G.’s nails at the moment, which had some blood beneath them. Offering a manicure when he was already leaning over G.G. in damp shorts, with one leg between G.G.’s knees and G.G.’s breath occasionally stirring the hair on his arm, seemed too much.

In a more romantic story, Trevor would have been cleaning blood from G.G.’s face and demanding to know who had done his to him.

Which reminded him.

“How did this happen, anyway?”

G.G.’s sigh this time was long and irritated. “I should have used my better knives. I have an old set I keep for no good reason, and I was cutting cheese for a sandwich and the handle cracked. The exposed blade went right through my hand. I put a towel on it, which might have worked to slow the bleeding until Urgent Care opened in the morning, but then when I was trying to clean up the mess, I slipped.” He sighed again. “And to catch myself, slammed this hand into the edge of the counter.”

At which point, the bleeding and pain must have gotten much worse. Trevor nodded sympathetically. It was something that would have happened to Patrick as a kid. And possibly now and Trevor just didn’t hear about it anymore. It was kind of a miracle Patrick had successfully built that deck, the more Trevor thought about it.

He scooted closer, trying not to encroach on G.G.’s space while also bending over him to attend to his hand. G.G.’s breath caught. Trevor debated looking up before deciding to focus on what he’d offered to do.

“Did they give you more bandages?”

“Counter,” G.G. answered in a near whisper.

Trevor glanced around, then stood up. He got rid of the wet paper towel, grabbed another from the roll, and then the paper bag that had a hospital pharmacy look to it. Inside was a bottle of antibiotics which had aTake with Foodlabel on them, a dwindling roll of gauze, a bit of medical tape, and two packaged nonstick bandage pads.

“Did they give you a tetanus shot?” Trevor wondered while he set it all out. “Scissors?” he asked before G.G. answered. “Where is the ibuprofen? I might as well get it all set up for you. Do you have a pill caddy?”

Trevor could feel his face heating. He went to the island for his glass of water and had a sip.

Anyway, border collies were very smart animals.

“I used the kitchen scissors. Second drawer.” If G.G. saw that Trevor was flushed, he didn’t mention it. “Ibuprofen is in that cabinet. I didn’t want to put it back in the bathroom and I don’t like things laying around.”

Trevor was glad to turn his back on him to get the needed items.

“I don’t have a pill caddy.” G.G. spoke softly. “And I am up to date on my shots.”

“Well, the caddies can be useful,” Trevor insisted after a cough. “But I can leave some pills in a cup or something, if there is a cat-safe place to put it.” He came back over, pleased when G.G. raised his hand for Trevor to take. Trevor patted it with the paper towel to dry it so the tape would stay put. His fingers slipped down over G.G.’s wrist. He moved them back to a steadying, impersonal hold.

“Do you know, I don’t actually know your name,” G.G. offered into the silence. Trevor gave a start. G.G. considered him without raising his head. “I thought it was Trevor, but once, I swear I heardBrian, and Margaret doesn’t seem confused about things like that.”

Trevor shook his head, then pushed out a breath. “It’s both. Brian Trevor Matheson, at your service. But I have two older cousins who are also Brians. One is spelled with a y at least. I don’t know why the family liked that name so much. I think it was the older siblings fighting about something but they won’t say. So my choice was to be Trevor or to be Third Brian. My first name almost never gets used now except for… it doesn’t matter. Okay. I have to hold the nonstick pad in place. Let me know if I use too much pressure or if the rest of the bandage is too tight. All right?”

G.G. nodded once. His voice was strained. “Margaret was insistent about the desk.”

“She has ideas about helping me along,” Trevor excused her because she loved him.

“Is that a family trait?” G.G. wondered with a hint of a tart amusement. He went on before Trevor could respond. “Do you want to do everything all on your own?” G.G. seemed confused by this, but Trevor might have been misinterpreting his frown. G.G. was in pain and Trevor shouldn’t forget that.

“No. I—hold on, try to keep your fingers still. There you go, almost done.” Trevor tried to use his normal voice but low, soothing assurances required a gentle whisper.

The back-and-forth sway of the kitchen door heralded the arrival of the cat. Trevor had almost forgotten about it. It stopped dead at the sight of him, equally surprised.

“It’s all right, Dee,” G.G. called out. Trevor backed up quickly. The bandage part was done, G.G.’s hand was hopefully immobilized, and Trevor didn’t want to scare the cat. He went around the island for the plastic wrap, then hesitated both for the fluffy cat brushing G.G.’s ankles and the sound of G.G.’s phone ringing.

“I can go in the other room.”

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