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Michael did most of the work on their ascent of the stairs, and Josiah had no shame in leaning heavily on him. Getting his feet to move took more effort than he imagined, but he did manage it. Josiah had been upstairs a handful of times, usually to get something for Elmer from his room, once to use the upstairs bathroom while Elmer had the downstairs occupied. But he’d never been inside, never even peeked inside of Michael’s room.
It both did and did not surprise Josiah. He’d stepped back in time by about twenty years, judging by the band posters on the walls, the matching teal and maroon patterns on the curtains and bedspread, and the collection of young adult books on a shelf over the desk. The room also smelled pleasantly of Michael’s cologne and deodorant, and those scents wrapped themselves around Josiah like a warm hug.
He allowed Michael to ease him onto the bed, and he didn’t protest when Michael took off Josiah’s sneakers, socks, and jeans. Nothing about this was sexual, and Josiah trusted him not to cop a feel or do anything disrespectful while Josiah was in so much pain.
“Do you need to take a leak before you get comfortable?” Michael asked.
“Might as well.” Once he got into bed, he wasn’t getting out for a while, and no way was he going to piss in a bottle. They made a quick trip to the bathroom, and Josiah let out a satisfied groan when he finally slipped under the covers and stretched out on his back. His pain level had reached a dull throb, and once he was horizontal again, it spread down from his head to his shoulders in a weird way, but at least he felt less like his skull was going to explode.
Michael tucked the covers up around his chin, sitting on the side of the bed beside Josiah’s hip in a reassuring, comforting way Josiah hadn’t experienced since he was a small child. The tenderness made his eyes burn with gratitude and a hint of grief. “Get a little rest,” Michael whispered. “I’ll check on you in two hours.”
“M’kay.”
Michael stood, reached into his back pocket, and put something on the side table. “Your glasses. One of the lenses has a small crack but they aren’t broken.”
“Oh good. They’re my only pair. Can’t take care of Elmer without my eyes.”
“Don’t worry about Dad tomorrow. I’m going to call Brand and take the day off. Maybe Wednesday, too, depending on how you feel.”
“Not gonna argue tonight.”
“Good. I’d hate to fight with a disadvantaged opponent.”
Josiah had enough energy to stick his tongue out at Michael, and then he was done. He closed his eyes, took comfort in Michael’s familiar scent and nearby presence, and allowed himself to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Michael spent the next six hours in a state of constant agitation, sprinkled with small moments of peace whenever he checked on Josiah, and Josiah woke without much prodding. Concussion checks weren’t fun for anyone, but Michael couldn’t sleep anyway, so he didn’t mind the task. He needed to know Josiah was okay. Josiah could have very easily not been okay tonight, and Michael still couldn’t shake the last of the overwhelming terror he’d felt at finding him bloody in the barn.
Was that how Dad felt when he found Mom in the barn twenty-plus years ago? Like his entire world had just stopped and he didn’t know how to restart it again? The pain of the loss had been much worse for Dad after so many years of marriage, but that kind of pain had still knifed Michael in the chest tonight. He’d nearly lost something precious before he’d ever truly had it.
After his third check on Josiah at four thirty, Michael finally yawned. Fatigue started to settle over him, and he sat on Dad’s bed. Scrubbed both hands over his face and through his tangled hair. Those beers with Brand seemed like a lifetime ago. When he called Brand around eleven to explain why he was calling out tomorrow, Brand had been both shocked and outraged that anyone would attack Josiah.
He also promised anything they asked for, from meals to help with Dad, and that Michael could take off however long he needed. The ranch would manage. “Focus on your family, man,” Brand had said.
Michael flopped onto his back and the slightly musty scent of the bedspread filled his nose, teasing at an upcoming sneeze. Dad used to make his bed every morning, and the morning of his stroke had been no exception. Michael hadn’t seen the point in changing out the sheets while Dad was stuck downstairs for the foreseeable future, and he honestly didn’t care in that moment. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift in the gray thoughtlessness of exhaustion for a while.
A high-pitched whine broke his peace, and Michael jackknifed upright, legs still dangling over the edge of the bed. His brain swam from the sudden position change, and he struggled to understand the sound that had woken him. He heard it again and nearly pitched onto his face in his haste to stand and dash out of the room. Straight across the hall to his room, where light from the window showed Josiah tangled up the bedcovers, his face twisted and sweaty, and breathing hard through his mouth.
Michael didn’t even think. He turned on the bedside lamp and put his hands on Josiah’s shaking shoulders. “Wake up, baby, come on. You’re safe.”
Josiah yelped and rolled to the side, away from Michael, but Michael held firm until Josiah’s wide, terrified eyes finally met his. Seemed to see him and understand where he was. Josiah panted a few times and licked his lips as his senses returned. “Fuck me, that was a bad dream.”
“You’re okay now.” Michael released his shoulders and eased on the bed beside him, one hand still resting on Josiah’s chest. His adrenaline was racing again, and he worked to keep his own panic off his face. “You with me?”
“Yeah. Ugh. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. Not really. I’m glad you were close by when the nightmare started.”
“Me, too. I have a hard time waking up from them sometimes.”
Michael helped him untangle the bedcovers from his legs, glad Josiah was allowing him to stick close and be a comfort, instead of pretending he was fine and sending Michael away. Josiah had been scared by his dream and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “Do you remember what the nightmare was about?”
“Sort of. It started out about tonight. In the barn. But then it wasn’t me being attacked, it was someone else I used to care about.”
“Family?”
“Kind of family, yeah.” Josiah sat up a bit against the headboard, expression still somewhat spooked, but his eyes were clear. Steady. “His name was Andy. After my parents died, I was on my own for a while. I’d dropped out of high school at sixteen because we were living on the streets and school was pointless when I could make more money washing dishes under the table. They died a week after I turned seventeen.”
