Page 73 of Roll With The Punches
Chapter Nineteen
Jeff spent two nights in the hospital, being pumped full of IV drugs and having more blood drawn and tests run.
It was his first hospital stay, and as he’d heard, it was anything but restful. He felt more exhausted when they’d let him go than when he’d been rushed there via ambulance on Sunday.
When he was discharged early Tuesday afternoon, Emma and Grace were there visiting him, and Emma went over everything with the nurses, including the medication schedule, before bundling him up in her car.
He didn’t even try to adult or argue with her. She and Grace seemed to be doing a pretty good job on his behalf, and he was too tired and hurt too much to engage adulting mode. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep in his own bed and not be awakened every few minutes to have his vitals taken, blood drawn, or new medications added to his IV pump.
He was being discharged with several prescriptions to take, and a recommendation for a strong probiotic to help keep his gut from getting overrun due to the medicines, and with a follow-up appointment for next week. He’d already called work and taken the rest of the week off, with notification that he’d likely need more time after that. Right now, he knew he couldn’t even drive as horrible as he felt, much less turn wrenches for eight to ten hours. The worst of the pain had eased a little, and his face was almost completely back to normal, so that was progress.
Still, he felt like shit. Some of the medication he was on upset his stomach. Deep joint pain, fatigue, and mental fuzziness left him feeling like a shell of himself.
On their way home, Emma stopped by the drugstore to get his prescriptions filled and to get the over-the-counter supplements, including making him buy a pill caddy to organize everything.
He knew giving in was far easier than trying to convince her otherwise. She was her father’s daughter.
And he loved her for it.
At home, Emma and Grace practically smothered him with attention before he retreated to the master bedroom on the totally real pretense of napping, until Stuart got home and was able to gently intercede for him and help get dinner ready and distract Emma and Grace.
Except Jeff didn’t feel like eating, even though they’d made his favorite meatloaf for him. Then Brandon arrived, fortunately. He helped further divert Emma and Grace until Emma had to take her home after dinner, giving Jeff some breathing room.
“I love them,” he told Brandon, “butdamn. Em makes you look lazy by comparison.”
Brandon arched an eyebrow at him. “How so?”
“I mean…intense. Honestly? The first few boys she brings home? We’re going to be keeping her from kickingtheirasses, not the other way around.”
Brandon climbed into bed with him, gently cuddling him close. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Jeff closed his eyes as he rested his head against Brandon’s chest. “Go back in time and forbid me from going to help Iris and Sylvie, please?”
Brandon kissed the top of his head. “Yeah, sorry. I thought I was being a good guy by letting you go.”
“Me, too.” He hated feeling like this.Haaatedit. Weak and wimpy, and like his life was out of control in the bad ways. “Sorry I didn’t go through our greeting when you got home, Master.” They had two different ones, a vanilla one they could do if Emma and Grace were around, and a formal one if the men were alone.
“Hey, no. You don’t feel good. I specifically told you guys that’s a rule, that if you’re sick, it’s a default exemption.” Brandon cupped Jeff’s cheek. “I know you love what we do, but I love you guys. That means your health and well-being come first.”
* * * *
Brandon knew Jeff felt horrible, but having a definitive diagnosis and plan of treatment didn’t make Brandon feel any less helpless.
His boy felt bad.
And he couldn’tfixit for him.
Even worse, Stuart had quickly whispered a briefing to Brandon upon his arrival, outside of earshot of the girls or Jeff, to update him about Jeff’s mindset.
“You’re staying home from work for the rest of the week. Right?”
It wasn’t a question, even though he’d phrased it as such. While he’d told Jeff and Stuart that he wouldn’t interfere with their work, if Jeff didn’t take care of himself, Brandon reserved the right to step in and put his foot down.
“Probably next week, too, depending on how I’m doing.”
Brandon relaxed a little. “Good boy.”
Jeff’s body relaxed against his. “I’m sorry, Master.”
