Page 28 of Make You Mine This Christmas
I smile as everyone does a silent cheer, not wanting to add noise and make things any worse.
“Let’s go, big guy.” I pull Brody to his feet and help him into his coat before grabbing mine. Our pace back to the gym is steady, until he stops still at the door.
“Everything okay?” I ask, looking back at his face scrunched up in pain.
“Building myself up to step into a fluorescent light hellscape.”
I pull my keys out of my pocket. “Go ahead and get in the car, suit and all. I’ll go grab our stuff and be out in a second.” He starts to protest. “We got those suits cleaned yesterday for a reason, right? Go.”
He takes the keys and smiles weakly before heading to the car. I hustle to grab our stuff, leaving the tights on but throwing on a sweatshirt, so I can make it even speedier.
Brody’s eyes are closed and his head is back against the seat when I climb into the Bronco. “Making it so if we get pulled over, we look like we just ran away from the North Pole?” he asks without opening his eyes.
“One should never cosplay and ride in a car alone.” I’m not sure how he knew I didn’t change fully, but not surprised either. He seems to be in tune with me in a way no one, except maybe Cole, ever has been.
“Let’s get you home,” I say, easing my SUV from the parking lot and praying for green lights and no bumps on the way.
* * *
“Go lay down, I’ll be right there,” I say once we get back to the apartment. My eyes catch on the empty Christmas tree I definitely need to straighten before I go to bed tonight. We still have plenty of time to decorate and enjoy it before Christmas. Trimming can wait for another night. I hang both our coats up and head to the kitchen to grab an electrolyte packet, chocolate, and run a washcloth under some warm water.
Brody’s laying on his bed, Santa pants around his ankles with his feet on the floor. His coat is open, but still on his shoulders, and his arm thrown over his head.
“It’s a real doozy, isn’t it?” I lean down to undo his boots and slide them off as gently as I can.
“Yeah, I haven’t had one this bad in a couple of months. They’re mostly controlled with medicine, but sometimes a perfect storm brings one on.” His voice is mumbled behind his sleeve.
“Is it okay if I take your pants the rest of the way off?” I ask, unable to keep the humor out of my voice.
“Not how I pictured you asking that question,” he groans, lifting his feet slightly to help me free them from the pants before we swing his legs back up onto the mattress.
“I brought you a few things. Do you have medicine to take once they start?”
He eases his way into sitting, his eyes still closed against the ceiling light he must have turned on out of habit. I reach over to the wall and flick it off, letting the light from the hallway and the inflatable through the window closest to the balcony filter through.
“Yeah, it’s in my toiletry bag on the dresser.” With his jacket finally removed, he hunches over with his head in his hands, fingers massaging his temples.
I take his words as an invitation to go through his things and unzip the bag to find four orange bottles. The first I pick up is his PrEP prescription, information I tuck away for later. The second bottle has a prescription name I don’t recognize. The third label reads Xanax, so I grab the fourth bottle once I see it’s another name I don’t know, figuring one of these two has to be the winner.
“Here—I’m not sure which one you need.” Brody picks his head up, his eyes open only the slightest amount until it sinks in the room is dark. He grabs both bottles, uncapping one.
“This’ll do it, though it’s going to knock me out, too.” He puts the pill in his mouth, then looks around in panic.
“Oh, I got you.” I pick the electrolyte drink up off the floor where I put it when I came in, twisting the cap off and handing it to him. He takes a deliberate swallow and then drains most of the rest of the bottle without taking another breath.
“Thanks, that should help it along.” He starts to burrow himself in bed, and I stand awkwardly, not sure what to do with myself.
“I, uh, grabbed you some chocolate too. It helped my mom when she got migraines during treatment—some mixture of caffeine and a natural chocolate high, I think.” I hold out the miniature bars in Christmas-themed paper, and he cups them in his hand.
“I’ll never turn down chocolate,” he says, propping his head up slightly on his pillows. “Thanks for getting me back here in one piece—it can be a nightmare to navigate the simplest things on your own when the pain’s really taken hold.”
“Of course, I wish I could do more,” I say, settling myself next to his feet on the bed.
“I have about five more minutes before these meds knock me out for the next ten to twelve hours. So, if there’s anything you want to say to me, I may or may not remember it in the morning, now’s the time.”
The light from the hallway reflects in his eyes, their seriousness a mismatch from the lightness of his tone.
“Ilikedwhathappenedthismorning,” I say, all in a rush. A lot of effort had gone into not dwelling on Brody draining my cock in the shower this morning while we were around kids and families all day. “I might like it to happen again.”
