Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“Mister Coke! I think the turkey’s burning!”
“Uncle Poppy? Can we play merry-go-round?”
“Coke, honey, can you grab that big platter?”
“Hoss, I think the toilet’s backed up. Y’all got a plunger?”
By the time Thanksgiving supper was ready, Coke had a vicious headache and no appetite. He said a prayer over everything, handed out plates, and headed down to the barn for a walk. Of course, about the time he got there, his phone rang for the fortieth time. Jason.
“Hey, son. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Hey, Gramps! When’re you coming to see me?”
“Is that Gramps? Say hey for me.” It sounded just as loud at Jason’s place.
“I’ll be out there after the holidays, son. I have to go see Sam Bell, then I’ll come. How’s folks?” His head was gonna explode.
“Good. I— It’s loud, you know?”
Oh, fuck a doodle. He nodded, sending up a quick apology for bitching. “I bet it is, son. You got fifty thousand Gardners there. I bet Mrs. Gardner made sausage balls, though. Those are good.”
“She did. Bax snuck me a beer. Just one.”
“Good deal. I miss you, Jase. I’m ready to see you. What do you want for Christmas?”
“To see Bax.”
He winced, sighed. “I can’t do that for you.”
“I know.” Jase sighed. “Sorry, Gramps. Guess I’m getting maudlin. Looking forward to y’all coming. We’re heading to Momma’s for Christmas proper, then we’ll be there.”
“Well, I’ll be there with bells on.” Then Jason could hear him coming.
“Cool. Okay, Gramps. I’ll let you go. Tell the clown hello. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Jase. Give those babies hugs.” He hung up and sat down, taking one slow breath, then another.
His head eased up some, the pounding dropping to a dull roar. His eyelids drooped, and he had no idea how long he dozed before a very cold nose pushed into his hand.
He let his hand drop down, stroking Pansy’s ears. “Hey, baby girl. What’s up?”
She whined a little, her big, fat paw swacking his leg. She did that when she was agitated.
“No swacking.” He blinked at her, smiled. “Guess I’d better get up, go eat.”
Except he couldn’t. It was cold and his muscles just wouldn’t go. Well, fuck.
“Hey, babe. You’ve been here a bit.” Oh, Dillon had a knack.
“Yeah?” He looked up, just a little worried. “I’m a little froze.”
“Shit, babe.” Dill came and hugged him tight, that compact body radiating heat.
“Oh.” He groaned as his back screamed, his neck going crazy. Still, it felt good—the warm.
“Shh. Just relax into it, babe. Then we’ll get you up to the house and get you a shower.”
“We got comp’ny, cowboy.”
“Mmmhmm. They’re watching football and napping.”
Had he been out there that long?
“Oh.” He might have to take a pain pill.
“You need me to get you a hot blanket or something, babe? There’s the hot tub. You could soak.” His cowboy was purely worried.
“I don’t want to make a fuss. Just pull me up, the back will remember how to do its thing.”
“Okay.” Dillon got a hold under his arms and helped him unfold. His muscles screamed, but he made it.
“Thanks.” The word didn’t have a lot of air to it, but he managed to start walking. One foot after another.
Nattie met them at the fence, eyes narrowed. “Oh, Hoss…”
“Hush.” Folks hurt sometimes.
“I think we ought to fire up the hot tub,” Dillon said, smiling. “We need to test it out. There’s heated tiles, and I can make hot chocolate!”
“I’ll get his pills and a plate of food for him, huh?”
“I’m fine, y’all.”
“Yep. We know. It’s a holiday. Let me spoil you.” Dillon led him to the kitchen, where warmth still lingered from the cooking.
Tracy peered in, shook her head. “Nate.”
“I got it, baby girl.”
Nate looked at Dillon. “Where’s his meds?”
“Y’all!”
Tracy gave him a glare. “Hush. You want gravy on your stuffing? You’ll need to eat with your pills.”
“Here.” Dillon shook his head, going for Coke’s pill box, more than a little gobsmacked.
“Good deal.” Tracy sat him down. Nate brought him milk and pulled out a muscle relaxant from his own stash. Tracy took his hat off, took his phone, and kissed his cheek. “Coke, you know all you have to do is tell us when you have a headache coming on. I hate that you let them go so long.”
“Don’t fuss, girlie.”
She snorted. “Coke Pharris, I was the one that cleaned you up during the first broken neck. I’ve earned the right to fuss.”
Coke’s cheeks heated, and Dillon kept his head down, handing Nate the box where he kept his meds, Nate sorting through and getting him the migraine pills Doc gave him. “I’ll go get your trunks and a robe, babe.”
“Hey.” He scowled at Tracy and Nate a second. “Dillon, stay, huh?” He’d be damned if his cowboy felt like it wasn’t Dillon’s place to take care.
Nate glanced at Tracy, who nodded. “I think I hear the kids. We’ll be back.”
“Sure, babe. Sure.” Dillon patted Tracy’s arm as they passed each other, coming to touch his cheek. “You gonna make it?”
“Shit, yeah. I just get headaches sometimes, huh? From the first bad break. Been a long time.” He leaned into the touch, smiling as Dillon grabbed the pills, pushed them on him.
“Well, take these and have a bit of food, then we’ll go from there.” Dillon stroked the back of his neck.
He took a shaky breath. “I’m not trying to be trouble.” God, that touch felt good.
“I know that, babe. Don’t be silly.” Dillon loved on him, nice and slow, lulling him.
He leaned forward, almost landing in the food. Right. Food. He should prob’ly eat.
“How about a little bread? Dinner rolls. Nice and soft and should sit okay.” Dillon let him lean, pressing a tiny bite to his lips.
“Mmm. Smells good.” He rested, nibbled, letting Dillon love on him some.
“It’s all amazing. We did good. Thank God a Thanksgiving feast tastes just as good left over.” Dillon chuckled.
“Everybody have fun?” The headache was easing off, leaving him a little shaky, sweaty.
“Yeah. The kids had a blast. I’m surprised the bassets didn’t explode.” Dillon’s sister Susan had been there, too. She must have left. Lord.
“I’m sorry about pooping out. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Hush.” That hand just kept moving, easing the pain in his neck and back. He blinked, the muscles slowly letting go, letting him relax.
“That’s better. Oh, so much better.” He got a tiny bite of turkey, some bright cranberry. Then some fruit salad, some dressing.
He thought he heard Nattie, asking Dillon if they needed any help.
Dillon murmured something that sounded like a ‘no, but thanks’. The man was focused on him, for sure.
The world got real slow, lazy, and he chuckled softly. “Can we have some pie?”
“We can. What kind do you want, babe?” Dillon moved, helping him up, and they went to the front room, where he sank down in the comfy recliner.
“Pecan, if we have it.”
One of Nattie’s wee babies toddled over to him, and he held out his arms.
“No lifting, Hoss. I’ll put him in your lap, if you want.”
“Yeah. That’d be good.” Nate lifted the baby up, Dillon put a heat pad on Coke’s neck, and Tracy went to get pie. The day was looking a lot better.
When his cowboy settled on the arm of his recliner, the day was just fine.
Wow.
Wow, poor Coke. The man was sound asleep in the recliner, a toddler in each arm. The pie and the pain pill had kicked in, and there was snoring and a serious aww factor.
Dillon followed Tracy to the kitchen, carrying pie-smeared plates and coffee mugs. “Does Coke get headaches like this often? I mean, this is the first once since…”
“He used to, all the time. After the first break, they were constant. I haven’t seen one in… Nate? Over a year?”
Nate had come in behind him to pour another cup of coffee. “Yeah. It’s worse in the cold.”
“That’s the muscles, though, in his neck.” Tracy started washing, winked at him. “Bullfighters have these weird things. Nate? Wakes up with leg cramps so bad he screams and walks for hours. Coop shakes all the time now, and Fred’s butt is numb.”
“I don’t think I wanted to know that about Fred.” He tried a smile, but it was less than bright.
“Hey, you just need to learn the signs. I think it’s great that he hasn’t had one in so long. You must ease him.”
“I try.” He hated to see Coke hurt. “He gets lots of shoulder rubs.”
“Good deal. He worked hard today, and I caught him picking up kids more than once. He forgets.”
“Well, now that I know, I won’t.” He winked, knocked Nate on the arm. “Don’t worry about the dishes, eh? Just put them in the sink.”
Tracy had done most of the clean-up with Susan. He could do the rest.
“Bah. You go get Hoss in the hot tub. Me and Tracy were gonna take the kids into town to that Santa movie, if y’all don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind a bit.” Dillon hugged Tracy. “Thanks, you guys.”
Tracy winked at him. “If you’ll let us borrow a house key, we won’t bother you when we come back in.”
“Oh, sure. Hey, take my truck, too, huh? It has snow tires.” He handed over the keys easily.
“I’ll finish here. Nate, bundle babies. Dillon, get Coke into bubbly water before he volunteers to help.”
“Got it.”
When he headed back into the front room, Coke was blinky but awake, and trying to get up. “Hey, babe. I got your trunks.”
“We goin’ swimming?” Coke gave him this warm, sweet smile.
“Soaking.” He heard the door close behind Nate and company. “In fact, we don’t need shorts. Everyone else went to a movie.”
“Oh? You didn’t want to go?” Coke let Dillon lead him into the bedroom, where the door to the hot tub waited.
“Nope. I wanted to soak and be quiet with you.” Dillon grinned. “It was crazy today.”
“It was. I didn’t ruin the dinner, did I?”
“No, babe.” Dillon hugged Coke gently. “Everyone had a great time.”
“The pie was good.” Coke’s arms wrapped around him. “Water. Soaking. Together.”
“Yeah. I got it fired up while you were napping.” Steam was pouring out, and the heated tiles would keep their feet warm. Coke let him strip them down, then they headed into the cold, wrapped in their heavy robes.
Dillon was suddenly glad he’d had the tub put in, especially when Coke slid into the water up to his neck. The sound Coke made was worth it all.
Coke drew him right in close, nuzzled his temple. “Cowboy.”
“Hey, you.” Dillon took a kiss. “Better?”
“Mmhmm. Head’s doing good.”
“Your back?” He could almost feel Coke melt.
“Feels like heaven in here.”
“It does.” Mainly because he was there with Coke. He loved that man silly.
Coke’s fingers moved nice and slow, petting him. “Your sister did good, honey. She says y’all don’t usually have so many folks at Thanksgiving.”
“Nope. Christmas should be much quieter.” Thing was, with folks in the area knowing not just Coke but Nate was there, cousins had turned up from all over. Their kids had all wanted to meet the famous bullfighters. It was a little embarrassing.
“What do you want for Christmas?” Coke was starting to kiss his shoulders.
“Huh? Oh, I’m easy, babe.” He didn’t really care as long as they had time together. “Not fruitcake.”
“No. No, I don’t like that. I think we should make snacky foods and just relax.”
“Yeah?” He could see that. That would be a hoot. “Sue will have roast and shit, we can drop by. We’ll do simple here.”
“Good deal.” Coke sighed, but it didn’t sound pained. “Jesus, I haven’t had a headache like that in a long time.”
“I had never seen it.” He wasn’t bitching—he just needed to know these things.
“Sorta hoped you wouldn’t have to.”
“Oh.” Well, he could see that, he guessed. “I need to know how to take care of you as good as you do me, babe.”
Coke hummed, nodded. “That’s fair.”
“Mmmhmm.” Damn, the bubbles felt good. Dillon hadn’t realized he was so tense, too.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Dillon.” Coke sounded purely happy.
“Same to you, babe. I hope it was a decent one, even with everything.”
“It was great. We were together.”
“We were. Our first.” He would bet that Coke would be hungry after they got out of the water.
“We’ll get better at it every year.”
“You know it.” He and Coke would have a lot of years to practice—Dillon was gonna make sure of that. No matter what.