Chapter Seven
Greg had no idea what had awoken him, and for a moment he had no clue where he was. Then he heard the light tap on his door, and everything came flooding back.
Micah’s home. Joshua and my dad… in love.
It still felt unreal.
“Greg? You awake?”
Greg rubbed his eyes. “Sure. Come in.”
The door opened, and Micah came in carrying a mug, steam rising from it. “Hey. Good morning. How did you sleep? I brought you some coffee.” He grinned. “It’s better than the hospital version, I swear.”
Greg stuffed a pillow behind him and sat up. “That wouldn’t be difficult.” He sniffed at the T-shirt he’d slept in. “You think I could do some laundry today?” He’d packed light for the trip, but he’d already run out of clean clothing.
“Yeah, sure.” Micah placed the mug on the nightstand, then perched on the edge of the bed. “So how did you sleep?”
“Like a log.” His leg had bothered him some, and there had been more than enough simmering inside his head to keep sleep at bay, but once he’d taken his meds, that was it, lights out. He was still feeling pretty zonked. “But I think those pills are really strong.”
Micah arched his eyebrows. “They’re probably standard painkillers, but being as slight as you are? Yeah, I can see how they’d knock you out.” He gazed at the cast. “Is that comfortable?”
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be comfortable, but it does its job.” Speaking of which… “I guess I’d better get into a routine of changing the bandages. The hospital gave me instructions.”
“Do the pins have to be taken out at some point?”
Greg shook his head. “I just have to make sure I tell people, you know, like when I go through airport security and stuff like that. And my dentist needs to know, apparently.”
“I was thinking about you this morning when I woke up.” Micah’s brow furrowed. “You don’t have a phone, do you?”
“No. That was taken, along with my wallet.” Except Greg had a sneaking suspicion that had been to give the illusion of a robbery.
“So… you don’t know if people have been trying to contact you.” Micah gazed at him steadily. “Like your family. Do they even know where you are? Did you call them while you were in hospital?”
Shit. Micah’s question brought him face to face with the reality he’d been trying so hard to avoid. “No, I didn’t.”
Micah’s eyes widened. “Aw, Greg. Don’t you think you should have? I mean, they might be worried sick.”
“I doubt that, somehow.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from pervading his words. Maybe he had them all wrong, but then again….
Micah kept silent, but his face said plenty. The skin around his mouth tightened, and he frowned.
Maybe Micah had a point. “Look, I promise I’ll call them today. If your dad is okay with it.”
Micah smiled, his tension clearly dissipating.
“He’ll be fine with it. Now, I can take your clothes and add them to the laundry, but in the meantime, I’ve been thinking.
That pair of sweats you wore home from the hospital?
You can keep those, plus I have a couple of old pairs that would probably fit over that cast. And if they don’t, we can always cut off the leg.
They’ll be warm enough to wear around the house, and it’s not like you’ll be going anywhere for a while.
Plus, I have some sweaters that will probably fit you, and some thick socks.
It didn’t look like you had all that much clothing with you. ”
Like Micah and his dad hadn’t done enough for him already. “Thanks. That sounds great. And thanks for the coffee.”
Micah got up from the bed. “I’ll leave you alone to enjoy it in peace.
And if you need a hand getting to the bathroom, give me a yell.
It’s only a couple of doors away, and it has a shower.
” He smiled. “I have a roll of plastic wrapping in my studio. I’ll bring some to cover your cast.” Micah walked over to the door.
“There’s a robe in the closet for you. Call out when you’re ready.
” He left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Greg picked up the mug and inhaled the aroma.
Ever since Joshua had volunteered to pay Greg’s medical bills, the whole situation had taken on a ‘too good to be true’ dimension.
Add to that Micah’s hospital visits, a place to stay while he recuperated, the kindness they’d shown him ever since Joshua had carried him into the house… .
There are some wonderful people in this world. Greg was pretty sure he was staying with two of them.
“Where’s Greg?” Dad removed the pack of bacon from the fridge, along with a carton of eggs.
“In the shower.” Micah had left him the plastic wrapping, figuring Greg would be more comfortable doing it himself.
He’d helped Greg to the bathroom, stressing that if he got into any difficulty in the shower, he had to call for help.
It had to be awkward, dealing with a shower when he couldn’t put any weight on his leg.
“He looks kinda tired. I think his meds are making him a little fuzzy headed.”
“Well, that leg has to be painful.” Dad broke six eggs into a glass bowl, then whisked them with a fork.
Micah peered at his dad. “What time did you two get to bed last night?”
“Oh, not that late. We did some talking.” Dad put down the fork and leaned against the cabinet. “We both got a little emotional, to be honest. I let him read his dad’s letter.”
Micah stilled. “Really?”
Dad gave him a sad smile. “Don’t worry. I always intended letting you read it, but it seemed important to let Greg read it first. His father and all.”
Micah got that, he truly did, but… “There’s a lot of stuff you still have to tell me, isn’t there?” He didn’t like this feeling that Dad was keeping him in the dark. Since when did we ever keep secrets from each other?
Dad regarded him in silence, then sighed. “Yeah. And I promise, one day soon, I’ll sit you both down and we’ll talk. Let Greg get settled in first, okay?”
Micah nodded, slightly mollified. “He needs to call California, by the way. His mom and stepdad don’t know what’s happened.”
Dad gaped. “Seriously? God, Micah. I had no idea. Yeah, he needs to do that first.” He cocked his head. “Shower’s stopped. Go tell him I’m getting breakfast ready. I assume eggs, bacon and toast will be okay.”
Micah left him and went into the little hallway that led to the guest bedroom, bathroom and laundry room. He tapped on the bathroom door. “Dad’s cooking breakfast. How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled, please. I’ll be right out. By the way, this bench in the shower is a godsend.”
Micah chuckled. “That was my mom’s idea. She planned that bathroom. You managed okay?”
From behind the door, he caught Greg’s laugh. “Yeah, I coped just fine. All I had to do was sit here. Your mom liked her showers, didn’t she? This one has all the bells and whistles, doesn’t it?”
Micah knew what Greg referred to. That shower had a rainfall head set into the ceiling, a couple of handheld shower heads, and finally a set of small jets set into the tiles. Mom loved her creature comforts.
“I won’t be long. Just have to unwrap myself first. Then we’ll see how long it takes me to hobble to you.” Greg snickered.
“If you need a hand, you just yell, okay?” Micah left him to it and rejoined Dad in the kitchen. “Is Naomi not coming home this weekend? I’d have thought she’d want to meet Greg.”
Dad sighed. “Apparently, she has a big test on Monday, so she’s burying herself in her books. But she’ll be here Wednesday.”
For a moment, Micah was perplexed, then he remembered. Thanksgiving was only six days away. “I’d better put a grocery list together.” He stared at his dad. “You did remember to order a turkey, right?”
“No, of course not. I thought we’d have pizza this year.” Dad rolled his eyes. “It’s being delivered Wednesday morning, oh ye of little faith.”
Micah held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying. I remember last year.”
“Hey!” Dad glared at him. “So I forgot. As your sister is so fond of saying, bite me. And we did have a turkey, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did,” Micah said slowly. “It was the last one in the store, and about the size of a pigeon.” He pointed to the stove. “Don’t you have eggs to cook?”
Dad narrowed his gaze. “God, you remind me of your mother sometimes.” Then his face softened. “Thank God.”
A muted cough came from the doorway. Greg stood there in soft, dark gray sweats and a dark blue sweater.
He gestured to his leg. “Look, no cast,” he joked.
He hobbled awkwardly into the room, his hands gripping the crutches tightly, his left leg held stiffly off the ground.
“Still haven’t gotten the hang of these,” he said sheepishly.
Dad was at his side in a heartbeat. “You come sit over here,” he said, guiding Greg toward a chair. “Micah? Grab some cushions for me, will ya?” He took the crutches from Greg once he’d sat down.
Micah ran into the living room and returned with a couple of cushions, which Dad placed on another chair, before carefully lifting Greg’s leg onto it. “You need to rest this leg, all right? Don’t go putting any weight on it. And this way, you can keep it straight.”
Greg sighed. “I’m not about to fall or anything. And although I appreciate the help, I have to get used to getting around on those things.” Then he winced.
“Sure you do.” Dad regarded him closely. “And I’m gonna go right on acting like a mother hen until that leg stops hurting as much as it obviously does.”
Micah touched Greg’s shoulder. “Where are your meds?”
“On the nightstand in my room.”
“I’ll get them.” Without giving Greg the opportunity to reply, Micah left them and went to Greg’s room. The sheet of capsules sat next to the wrapped wooden box. Micah picked them up and hurried back to the kitchen. Dad had already poured out a glass of water.
Greg pressed out two capsules and chased them down with the water, his face pale.