Chapter Twenty-Four
AUSTIN SLEPT like shit with Joe out of the house.
It didn’t help that the pets didn’t understand where he was or why he wasn’t home.
Pepa jumped to her feet any time a car passed outside, on the off chance it was Joe.
Walker followed Austin around forlornly and threw a fit when Austin tried to go upstairs and sleep in his own bed, because Walker didn’t want to be alone in Joe’s.
Finally Austin switched out the sheets and gave in.
Then there was being the contact person for everyone who cared about Joe—his employees, his mom, his dad—who Austin had never met because he lived in Ottawa doing, like, fancy diplomat shit—his kids, Starling, even Linda.
Everyone wanted to know what was going on and when he’d be home and what his diagnosis was and the treatment plan and his projected recovery and the last time he’d had a bowel movement.
Okay, Austin was exaggerating, but only a little.
And then there was the part of his brain that couldn’t stop thinking about how fragile Joe had been—the insistent, paranoid part of his brain that always had to consider worst-case scenarios, the part that had always insisted Austin keep an emotional distance from people and have a backup supply of SpaghettiOs handy just in case.
Weak enough he’d needed Austin’s help getting out of bed. Feverish enough he’d barely been able to string words together. So tired he’d barely been able to finish a glass of juice before he nodded off again.
Fingernails turning blue.
Austin had worried about their relationship moving too fast, about how he would handle it if they broke up. He’d never even considered what it would do to him if he lost Joe to something more permanent until a few days ago, and then he was too busy looking after Joe to think about it.
But then Joe was in the hospital, and suddenly he wasn’t too busy anymore. It was like he couldn’t stop.
So he slept like shit and woke up to Will slamming cupboards in the kitchen—charming—and a strong smell of ammonia, which…. That seemed bad? That seemed, like, go-back-to-sleep levels of bad.
But he didn’t want to miss a call or text from Joe saying he was ready to come back home where he belonged, so. Time to face the music.
Austin dragged himself out of bed and found Will in the kitchen glaring at the open fridge.
“You trying to cool down the whole house?” As the words came out of his mouth, Austin realised two things. One: He sounded like someone’s parent. Two: Snark was probably not the best way to ingratiate himself to an emotionally fragile grumpy teen.
“It’s not like the fridge is doing anything else useful right now.” Will glared.
Right. Because Austin forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. He was pretty sure they didn’t have milk, cereal, or bread. “I can get to the store—” Austin started.
Will finally slammed the door shut and huffed. “If I leave now, I can stop at Timmies.”
Probably a good idea. “You have cash?”
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes.
Austin did not grump back. He hadn’t even found the source of the ammonia smell yet, and already he wanted to go back to bed. “Okay, well, that’s breakfast solved. I’ll get groceries before I go back to the hospital.”
Will paused on his way to the door and asked as if he didn’t care about the answer, “Is Joe coming home today?”
“Probably,” Austin said. “I haven’t heard from him yet, but yesterday they were confident that he would.”
“Good.” Will continued on his way out. Austin supposed he should be grateful that Will actually yelled out a “Bye!” before he slammed the door behind him.
In a state of foolish optimism, Austin checked the fridge and found nothing he wanted to eat for breakfast either.
With a sigh, he shut the fridge and figured he might as well take a page out of the kid’s book and leave the house for breakfast. But first he should find the source of the smell.
It was cat pee. It had to be cat pee. But how one of them had managed to pee on the wall, Austin had no idea.
Sighing, he grabbed a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels. Once he’d sopped up the mess and then washed the walls and the floor—all the while carefully not thinking about what he was cleaning—Austin washed his hands ten times and dressed.
He checked his phone before leaving and again once he reached the grocery store, but there were no updates from Joe.
The first text arrived while Austin was in the middle of the bread aisle. Joe was conscious but not yet discharged. Austin heart-reacted the message and then put his head down to get shit done.
Unfortunately, between his lack of sleep and his anxious desire not to miss anything from Joe, concentrating proved difficult, even if all that required his attention were groceries, laundry, and animals.
It was just about lunchtime when his phone rang. Austin lunged for it—it must be Joe.
Starling Bell.
Austin slumped. He didn’t want to talk to Joe’s best friend right now. He’d been keeping her updated, and he didn’t have anything new to say about Joe’s condition.
Then again, she’d never called before.
Worry gnawed at his belly. He wasn’t sure what emergency would make her call Austin, but something had to be—
“Hello?”
“Austin, hi.” Starling’s tone sounded heavy.
“Shit—I mean. Uh, what—what’s wrong?” Jesus.
Starling barked a laugh. “Yeah, I guess calling you isn’t subtle.” She sighed. “Look, I hate to do this now. I mean, I would hate to ask anyway, but especially right now when Joe’s out of commission—”
“Starling, what’s wrong?” Austin’s heart couldn’t take this beating about the bush.
“I need my money. Or the money you owe me for services rendered.” Austin cringed. “Ugh, sorry, that sounded—” Another sigh. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not usually so bad at this, but I’m really—I know I agreed to wait until you guys sold the house, but—”
“Maybe you could tell me about it?” Based on the rambling, Austin figured something had happened.
He’d wondered what they would do if they changed their mind about selling—something he and Joe should probably talk about soon.
Until now he’d figured they could cross that bridge when they came to it.
Or didn’t come to it. Or didn’t sell it.
It seemed like the bridge had come to him, though.
“My sister’s kid had to go to Sick Kids and—I mean, they’re okay, but the recovery’s going to be longer than they thought. Which means two weeks of unpaid leave, and there’s housing for them in Toronto, sort of, but there will be expenses and—” She blew out a breath.
“And you need the money we owe you to support your sister.” Just because the treatment might be covered by OHIP didn’t mean living expenses suddenly disappeared.
“Yeah,” Starling agreed, sounding relieved.
“Right, okay.” Austin had no idea how they would cover it, but he would find a way.
“Can you send me the bill? I’ll have to take a look, figure things out.
” He chewed his lip. “Look, honestly, I’m not sure if we can pay it all right now, but I’ll let you know as soon as I can about how much and when we can get you the money. ”
“Thank you,” Starling said sincerely. “Seriously, Austin. The timing sucks, I know—”
“It’s not your fault,” Austin countered.
“I know, I know. I just hate to add anything to your plate right now.”
“Starling, don’t—” Austin’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it away from his face to check. “Oh thank God.”
“Austin?”
“Sorry, text from Joe. He says he’s about to be sprung from the hospital. I’ve got to go.”
“Yes, yes, go. Say hi from me. And tell him to get better and to stop getting old-people illnesses!”
“I’ll, uh, do that,” Austin said, though he didn’t think he’d pass along the last part. At least not in so many words. Maybe in a couple months, when he emotionally recovered from his boyfriend almost dying of pneumonia, he could joke about it.
The drive to the hospital was a straight shot down Walker Road, which gave Austin plenty of opportunity to think as he managed to hit all thirty-seven stop lights.
He didn’t have a ton of money in savings.
How much did they owe Starling? He should’ve asked before.
Now he didn’t want to look at his phone.
Maybe they’d have no choice but to sell the house sooner rather than later and find somewhere to live in the meantime.
Or maybe they could get a mortgage. They could swing that, right?
A joint mortgage wasn’t exactly taking things slow, of course.
Never mind. Joe first. Financial crisis later.
The inoffensive walls and bland art of hospital hallways all looked the same. Austin got Joe’s room number mixed up and did a double take when he poked his head in and found a tiny Asian woman instead of Joe, but then he heard a familiar laugh echoing down the hall and made his apologies.
Austin had a lot on his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put in a full day’s work or gotten a full night’s sleep.
But the stress and exhaustion evaporated, if only for a moment, when he walked into Joe’s room to find him sitting up in the bed with color in his cheeks, taking breaths without rattling.
It took Austin a minute to get his own lungs to remember to breathe as the relief washed over him, but then he cleared his throat and knocked on the doorframe. “Hey. I heard you’re getting sprung.”
“Mr. Taylor!” The doctor turned toward him, smiling. “Good, I need a witness for these care instructions. I’ve got some printouts for you to take home as well, but I want to go over everything and give you a chance to ask any questions.”
Austin wanted to finish crossing the room and put his hand on Joe’s forehead, feel for himself that the fever had been defeated, listen to his heart and lungs up close, then throw him over his shoulder and get the fuck out of here before he could catch a secondary infection.
Barring that, a hug would be nice. It had been too long since Joe touched him.