Briggs and ducked into the showers. Whatever kind of job he’d been on, there was always something satisfying about watching hours of soot and grime disappear down the plughole, and he lingered under the hot spray as long as he dared. The coast was clear when he got out, or so he thought, until he got to his bunk and found Briggs waiting for him.
“Not hiding from me, are ya, O’Neil?”
Rupert sighed and tossed his damp towel on the bed. “No point with you fecking stalking me, is there?”
“S’pose not.” If Briggs was offended, he didn’t show it. He glanced around. “How’s Jodi?”
Rupert looked around too, checking that they had relative privacy, though he didn’t know why. His personal life wasn’t much of a secret. “Pretty much the same.”
“Still having seizures?”
“Not this week. They’re hoping it was just a phase of his recovery.” And dear God, so was Rupert. He’d spent the beginning of the last month dreading the moment the doctors decided Jodi was well enough to leave the hospital, but it hadn’t happened. Instead, Jodi had been plagued by a run of terrifying seizures, and Rupert had regressed into fearing nothing but that damn-fucking shadow on Jodi’s brain.
“And how are you bearing up? It’s gotta be hard, Rupert. Two jobs and caring for Jodi. Don’t know how you do it.”
I don’t , Rupert wanted to say. He’d handed his notice in at the club, and it had been a long time since he’d felt like he’d done anything properly, but he held his tongue. Briggs had waved the possibility of promotion to crew manager under Rupert’s nose the day before Jodi’s accident. He hadn’t mentioned it since, and it was probably just as well. The bump in salary would’ve cleared the last of Rupert’s postdivorce debts and allowed him to treat Jodi and Indie the way they deserved, but if— when Jodi came home, chances were Rupert would have to cut his hours to care for him.
And pay the mortgage with magic beans.
Briggs shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Rupert turned his back on him under the guise of pulling a wrinkled T-shirt—his clothes were missing Jodi’s attention—over his head, counting down to the question he knew would come next.
“Don’t suppose he’s, er, talking yet, is he?”
“No, not yet.” Rupert closed his eyes against the image of Jodi convulsing on the hospital floor, his dark gaze blank, and his mouth clamped shut, not uttering a sound. Was it wrong that Rupert longed for him to cry out? Even in pain? Anything to prove there was a scrap of Jodi left behind that hollow stare?
Briggs slapped Rupert on the back. “Chin up, mate. Never know, tonight might be the night you walk into that hospital and get yer boy back.”
It wasn’t. Rupert clocked out around midnight and jogged the short distance to hospital. The night sister met him at the nurses’ station and ushered him to the quiet corner of the ward where Jodi had his bed. Rupert squeezed her hand in thanks. The ward managers had been incredibly tolerant of his fluctuating shift pattern, and let him in to see Jodi whenever he liked, providing he didn’t disturb the other patients, which was unlikely considering his visits to Jodi were mostly spent in silence.
And tonight would be no different. Jodi was fast asleep, curled on his side, his good hand tucked under his chin.
“He didn’t eat much dinner,” the sister said. “I tried to tempt him with some of Caz’s birthday cake earlier, but he wasn’t interested.”
Rupert’s bones ached with sadness. Before the accident, Jodi’s sweet tooth had been legendary. “Thank you.”
The sister left him to it. Rupert adjusted the soft grey blanket he’d brought from home so it covered Jodi properly, then took a seat. “Hey, beautiful.”
And beautiful Jodi still was, despite the purple smudges under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. His inky hair had grown a little, and Rupert had become addicted to the sensation of his
“Not hiding from me, are ya, O’Neil?”
Rupert sighed and tossed his damp towel on the bed. “No point with you fecking stalking me, is there?”
“S’pose not.” If Briggs was offended, he didn’t show it. He glanced around. “How’s Jodi?”
Rupert looked around too, checking that they had relative privacy, though he didn’t know why. His personal life wasn’t much of a secret. “Pretty much the same.”
“Still having seizures?”
“Not this week. They’re hoping it was just a phase of his recovery.” And dear God, so was Rupert. He’d spent the beginning of the last month dreading the moment the doctors decided Jodi was well enough to leave the hospital, but it hadn’t happened. Instead, Jodi had been plagued by a run of terrifying seizures, and Rupert had regressed into fearing nothing but that damn-fucking shadow on Jodi’s brain.
“And how are you bearing up? It’s gotta be hard, Rupert. Two jobs and caring for Jodi. Don’t know how you do it.”
I don’t , Rupert wanted to say. He’d handed his notice in at the club, and it had been a long time since he’d felt like he’d done anything properly, but he held his tongue. Briggs had waved the possibility of promotion to crew manager under Rupert’s nose the day before Jodi’s accident. He hadn’t mentioned it since, and it was probably just as well. The bump in salary would’ve cleared the last of Rupert’s postdivorce debts and allowed him to treat Jodi and Indie the way they deserved, but if— when Jodi came home, chances were Rupert would have to cut his hours to care for him.
And pay the mortgage with magic beans.
Briggs shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Rupert turned his back on him under the guise of pulling a wrinkled T-shirt—his clothes were missing Jodi’s attention—over his head, counting down to the question he knew would come next.
“Don’t suppose he’s, er, talking yet, is he?”
“No, not yet.” Rupert closed his eyes against the image of Jodi convulsing on the hospital floor, his dark gaze blank, and his mouth clamped shut, not uttering a sound. Was it wrong that Rupert longed for him to cry out? Even in pain? Anything to prove there was a scrap of Jodi left behind that hollow stare?
Briggs slapped Rupert on the back. “Chin up, mate. Never know, tonight might be the night you walk into that hospital and get yer boy back.”
It wasn’t. Rupert clocked out around midnight and jogged the short distance to hospital. The night sister met him at the nurses’ station and ushered him to the quiet corner of the ward where Jodi had his bed. Rupert squeezed her hand in thanks. The ward managers had been incredibly tolerant of his fluctuating shift pattern, and let him in to see Jodi whenever he liked, providing he didn’t disturb the other patients, which was unlikely considering his visits to Jodi were mostly spent in silence.
And tonight would be no different. Jodi was fast asleep, curled on his side, his good hand tucked under his chin.
“He didn’t eat much dinner,” the sister said. “I tried to tempt him with some of Caz’s birthday cake earlier, but he wasn’t interested.”
Rupert’s bones ached with sadness. Before the accident, Jodi’s sweet tooth had been legendary. “Thank you.”
The sister left him to it. Rupert adjusted the soft grey blanket he’d brought from home so it covered Jodi properly, then took a seat. “Hey, beautiful.”
And beautiful Jodi still was, despite the purple smudges under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. His inky hair had grown a little, and Rupert had become addicted to the sensation of his
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