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“That’s true, and those situations are always tragic, Mr. Pearce. But according to your doctors, you are in an excellent position to regain a lot of your previous mobility and independence. As much as I don’t like being out of work, I prefer when my clients succeed and say ‘you’re fired’ versus needing long-term care.” Most of the long-term care cases, like Mrs. Wellington, ended up in nursing homes or in-patient hospice facilities.
“You’re honest, young buck. I like that. Keep being honest with me, and we’ll get along just fine.”
“Deal, sir.”
“Meh, just call me Elmer. No need to be all formal, since you’re gonna be wiping my ass for a while.”
Josiah chuckled, amused by the older man’s forthright nature. “Elmer, then.”
“And if my son is done being the silent, rude type, maybe he can get us something to drink. I’ll take a beer.”
“You will not,” Michael said from his spot across the room, one shoulder braced against a built-in bookshelf. “I bought orange juice, all-natural fruit punch, and nonsweet green tea. Or there’s water.”
Elmer grunted. “Tea. No soda?”
“Tea.” Michael turned his attention to Josiah and smiled. “For you?”
“I’ll help you,” Josiah replied. “I need to learn your kitchen anyway, since I’ll at least be making Elmer lunch on the days I’m here.”
“Good point.”
He followed Michael through a wide archway into a moderately sized kitchen with outdated appliances and a faded linoleum floor. A small table with three chairs took up space by another door leading into what looked like a mudroom/laundry room. Everything was clean, though, compared to the cluttered living room.
“Cups and plates are in this cupboard,” Michael said as he reached into an upper cabinet, and Josiah held back a flinch at the sudden arm movement. “Utensils are in these two drawers, flatware on top and other stuff beneath it. We’ve got snacks in those cupboards, but there’s also a pantry in the mudroom over there.” Michael pointed while he poured green tea from a bottle into a lidded cup.
A bottle similar to the one Seamus had hurled against the kitchen wall a few weeks ago, after coming home and finding only half a glass worth of his favorite iced tea/lemonade combo to drink. A warm one was in the pantry, but Seamus hated pouring warm drinks over ice. It diluted them too fast according to him, and he’d already had a long day.
Josiah had spent a long night cleaning the wall and floor of both liquid and glass shards, and he’d nicked his palm. That cut had seemed to take forever to heal, because it was on his right hand, and it was difficult to roll a bedbound patient over with only one hand. Josiah hadn’t complained, though, because he’d forgotten to chill the new bottle.
A shadow moved and Josiah took a full step backward, head ducking in case a fist lashed out, and his hip smashed into something hard. He stifled his yelp, though, and only let out a pained grunt of surprise.
“Hey, sorry.” Michael stood in front of him, both hands straight out by his sides, his expression an odd mix of confused and concerned. “You okay?”
“Yes, I got lost in thought. I’m sorry.” Josiah rubbed his sore hip, a hot blush creeping up his neck at acting like a fool in front of a new client’s family. “Did you ask me something?”
“Just what you wanted to drink.” His steady gaze held Josiah’s for a long moment, seeming to both ask what was wrong and offer support for everything unspoken in Josiah’s own expression.
One fucking bottle shouldn’t have him this spooked. “Water is fine for now, thank you.”
“Ice?”
“Please.”
Michael produced a gallon jug of store-bought water from the fridge, ice from a container in the freezer, and poured Josiah his glass. Handed it over with his newly familiar, charming smile. Their fingers brushed briefly as Josiah accepted his drink, and the brief contact sent a tiny wiggle of warmth through Josiah’s hand. Warmth he’d probably imagined.
“Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge or pantry while you’re here,” Michael said, his intent gaze never breaking from Josiah’s.“Mi casa es su casa.”
“It’s my house!” Elmer shouted from the living room.
Josiah laughed. “I guess sound carries pretty well downstairs.”
“He’s always had an eerie sense of hearing,” Michael replied. “Made sneaking out of the house as a teenager problematic, but it probably also kept me out of a lot of trouble. I had a pretty strong rebellious streak.”
“I can believe that.” Josiah sipped his water, mostly for something to do besides stare at the man in front of him.
“How about you? Any fun stories of wild, rebellious teen years?”
His joy at the fun conversation dimmed. “No. I was too busy surviving to rebel against much of anything.” The fact that he’d said so much in only a few brief words spoke volumes to the innate trust he had in Michael. But this wasn’t about being Michael’s friend; today was about becoming Elmer’s. “Um, thank you for the water.”
