Page 5 of Emil

“Yeah, Anders told Lacey not to call anyone, so I’m guessing not. I doubt John bothered. Do John and Anders live together?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Trying to get Anders home, but I’ll take him.”

“I appreciate that. Knowing him, he’ll try to call an Uber so he doesn’t accidentally inconvenience anyone.”

“That’s not happening on my watch.”

“Any questions before I sign off on discharge?” Dr. Greer asked.

When he returned to check on Anders’s levels, he was as thorough as I expected based on Reed’s praise. He looked a little too casual to be a doctor in my mind, but what the fuck did I know about downtown emergency rooms? He warned Anders to be careful going forward, that he was rundown and his iron levels were concerning, so he needed to talk to his regular doctor about that. But in the meantime, he told Anders to stock up on spinach and red meat. He promised to send the nurse in with the final discharge papers quickly so we could finally be released. I waited until he was gone before asking Anders about what came next.

“Is John picking you up?”

Anders’s mouth tightened to a firm line before he shook his head and looked out the window. He took a deep, steadying breath before he turned back and faced me with what I already knew was a fake smile.

“He’s having dinner with some…some…colleagues. He won’t be able to make it, so I’ll just call an Uber.”

After he finished his statement, he looked away quickly, but not before I caught the wobble in his chin. His throat moved up and down constantly as he, I’m assuming, tried to swallow the emotion threatening to explode from him. He looked exhausted in a way that came from his core.

“An Uber isn’t safe given your tiredness. I’ll take you home myself, and you’re taking tomorrow… No, you’re taking the rest of the week off. You need rest.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine. Those books need to be finished. We’re hitting a deadline.”

“And they’ll never get done properly if you’re too exhausted. Those books can wait. You are taking the rest of the week off.”

“I can’t.” Anders sighed. “Rent is due, and if I take the rest of the week off, I won’t be able to pay my share.”

“That’s what sick leave is for.”

“We only get three days of sick leave, and I…I donated them.”

“Donated?”

“Yeah. One of the guys in HR. His wife had a baby, and they were really sick, so we gave him our hours so he could be with the baby. I didn’t think I’d need them because I hardly ever get sick.”

I was barely holding on to my temper, but I answered through clenched teeth, “I will take care of it. You will have paid leave. Any other arguments?”

“No, sir.”

Christ on a cracker, there was something about the way he said it that stirred something deep in my chest, something I did not need to examine in reaction to someone who was in a relationship and worked for my company. I needed to shut that shit down immediately.

“Perfect.” Before I could add anything else, the nurse came in with a handful of papers and a cheery smile.

“Congratulations, Anders, you are a free man again.” The nurse turned to her right and smiled at me. “And are you playing chauffeur this afternoon?”

“I am,” I answered quickly because Anders was already starting to object. So much for his quick acquiescence to me driving him home.

“Perfect. If you want to bring your car around—downstairs, exit three—I will have him finish signing these papers, and then he’s all yours. He needs a few days of rest and quiet, no work, to give his body a chance to recover. Between exhaustion, dehydration, and not eating properly, he’s worn himself out. But nothing that a little bed rest won’t fix in a few days.”

“Thank you for explaining it. He’s not going into work for the rest of the week.”

“That should help him then. And you”—she turned back to Anders—“need to take a break when your body is screaming for you to rest. No job is worth working yourself into an early grave over.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said with an approving nod.

While they finished the paperwork, I slipped out the door and hurried to my car. Each step was a punctuation point at how pissed I was at Anders’s piece-of-shit boyfriend. That fucker wouldn’t find the time to pick up his boyfriend—the guy he claims to love enough to live with him—but had time for dinner with colleagues? Bullshit. They were either drinking buddies or a hookup. Probably both. I knew for a fact that fucker tried to hook up with my friend’s boyfriend a few months ago, and there was zero reason to think he was a better partner now. I couldn’t imagine him going anywhere but further into the hole.