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“Brendon? Where’s Paul? What’s going on?” She’s so worried, and I know I’m not helping, but I can’t get a hold of myself. I’m so fucking worried about him. I’m so far outside of my element. At twenty-one years old. I’m still a fucking child. I can’t take care of myself, much less anyone else. What the fuck does he even see in me?
“Brendon, breathe.” Her command cuts through the fear and gives me something to focus on. What I wouldn’t give to have her here with me, to hug me and tell me what I’m supposed to do. I don’t want this fucking responsibility anymore. It’s too much. This is all too much.
It takes me a minute, but I manage to pull it back enough to get the words out.
Through my sniffling and tears, I tell her he’s in surgery for appendicitis.
“Oh, thank Christ.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “He’s going to be okay.” It’s a statement not a question. What does she know that I don’t? How is she so confident?
Tears are still trickling down my face and dripping onto the floor as I lean on my knees.
“Brendon, take a deep breath. Why are you so panicked? Baby, why are you so upset?” Her voice is soft like she already knows the answer or at least expects it, but I’m an idiot for calling her. I doubt Paul has told her that we’re even dating, much less that we’re married. Hell, I don’t even know if she knows he’s into guys. Fuck. I’m fucking up everything by not thinking things through, again.
“Sorry, I’m just tired, I guess. I’m sorry to bother you. He’s gonna be fine. I’ll make sure he calls you when he’s awake. Bye.” I hang up quickly before any more words can fall from my lips and fuck up Paul’s life. I don’t know if his grandparents are homophobic, but I really hope they aren’t. After being all but abandoned by his dad, he needs his grandparents.
The surgeon comes in not long after the disastrous phone call, and I hop up out of my chair so fast I get light-headed.
“Are you Paul’s family?”
“Yeah,” I say it quickly, but my face heats, and I hope against hope he doesn’t think I’m lying and refuses to tell me anything.
“He’s out of surgery; it went as expected. He’s in recovery and will be until he’s awake, warm, and the pain is managed. It could be half an hour, could be multiple hours.” The doctor shrugs. “It all depends on how his body responds. Once he’s out of recovery, he can have a visitor or two, but he’ll likely be very tired still. We’ll keep him for twenty-four hours or so, make sure he’s on the mend, then discharge him.”
I’m nodding along but none of the words are really sinking in. My brain is noisy, but there’s no distinct thoughts, just enough background noise to stop me from being able to process what he’s saying.
“So just wait here or . . .” I trail off, not really sure what other options there are.
“You can wait here or go home and wait for him to call you from his room. Get something to eat, take a nap, something like that. You’ve been here a while.” The doctor puts his hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture, and it’s all I can do not to break down again.
“But he’s going to be okay?” My voice is tiny, like the fucking child I am.
He smiles warmly at me before nodding. “Yes, he’s going to be just fine.”
The tension and fear that’s been keeping me going breaks just long enough for a sob to escape my mouth. I slap a hand over my mouth like I can keep it in or take it back. The doctor squeezes my shoulder and pats my back.
“He’s all right. Take a deep breath.”
I force myself to close my eyes and focus on breathing. Long, slow inhales that fill my chest and belly, then slow exhales. I don’t know how long we stand there, but he doesn’t leave my side, for which I’m appreciative.
Once my heart rate slows and I feel like I can handle life for a second, I open my eyes and look at the man in front of me. He’s not much older than me, maybe ten years with clear gray eyes, and aPAW Patrolfabric head covering.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out. He pats my shoulder and heads back to save more lives.
33
Brendon
Looking at the time on my phone, I cuss under my breath, scrub a hand down my face, and head to the parking lot. It’s later than I thought, and I need to sleep for a few hours, or I’ll be useless tonight. I already missed morning skate, so I hustle down to Paul’s car and get back to campus as quickly as I can without getting a ticket.
As I get off the elevator on the third floor, Preston and Jeremy are standing at my dorm, knocking on the door.
“Hey,” I call to them, and they both turn to look at me at the same time with the same confused expression. It’s kinda scary, actually.
“Where they hell have you been? You missed morning skate. Where’s Paul?”
I unlock the door and push it open, only to come to a stop when I see someone sleeping on my bed. What the actual fuck?
Jeremy runs into the back of me, and Preston grunts.
