6. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Jake
Jake sat at the kitchen table while the tea steeped, and he lowered his head into his hands, blowing out a long breath.
God. What a mess. A sad, terrifying mess.
The young man—who wouldn’t tell Jake his name—had woken up. That was huge, wonderful news, and Jake had felt such immense relief.
But that relief hadn’t lasted long.
The man was obviously afraid. Scared and afraid. And probably ill. His coughing fit had nearly had Jake back on the phone with Sue, who ran the small medical clinic in town.
Shit. If the young man had pneumonia or something, what the hell would they do then? The road was apparently not passable thanks to the rain, so Jake would have no way to get the young man into town to get checked by Sue. At the bare minimum, the man needed careful monitoring of his temperature and vitals, but he’d outright refused.
Jake stared at the two mugs of tea sitting on the table in front of him, watching the steam rise up. Then he pushed himself back to his feet, even though he desperately needed more time to rest, and he hobbled over to the kitchen cupboard, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg.
He hated it, but he could already feel the pain wasn’t going to just go away. At least not anytime soon. He’d pushed too hard—out of necessity, of course—and if he didn’t do something, he’d probably not be able to walk tomorrow. And if the young man was still here then, that would just make an awkward situation even worse.
So Jake opened up the cupboard and pushed away a row of random spices. Then he grabbed the small orange pill bottle hidden in the back and shook the bottle.
It was empty .
“Dammit.” He closed his hand around the bottle and screwed his eyes shut. Nothing else he had would even come close to touching his pain. And he doubted the tiny pharmacy in town would be able to refill his prescription right away, even if he could get his doctor to fax it over. Plus, he was stuck at home anyway until whatever had happened to the road was fixed.
And his cane was probably now buried in sand down at the bottom of the stairs to the beach.
What a morning.
He glanced at the clock on the microwave, took a deep breath, and hobbled over to the trash can, where he tossed the empty pill bottle. Then he turned back to the table.
The two cups of tea sat there, still steaming.
Jake blinked his eyes closed for a long second. “He’s alive,” he reminded himself aloud, and then he picked up one of the cups of tea and looked down the hallway. The door to the extra bedroom was still closed, and he hadn’t heard anything from the room since he’d left.
He just hoped the man liked lemon balm tea with honey.
With a grimace, Jake started slowly down the hallway, reaching out to steady himself on the wall. The hallway was short, and he stopped in front of the door and took a few seconds to listen. But he still heard nothing at all. A wave of unease washed over him, and he knocked quietly on the door.
“Hey, I’ve got hot tea here for you,” he called, just loud enough that he was confident he’d be heard.
Silence.
Exhaling a sigh, he reached down and opened the door slowly, pushing it inward. His eyes fell on the bed, and his expression immediately softened. The man sat at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor and his hands clasped together in his lap. Jake’s clothes were almost comically too big on him, and maybe under different circumstances, Jake might have managed some kind of joke.
Instead, he just started on his way over, still hobbling slowly.
“I’ll just set this on the nightstand for you,” he explained as he approached, trying not to frown when the man obviously tensed. Still being as careful and deliberate as possible, Jake placed the mug on the nightstand and straightened back up. He cleared his throat, trying to decide what to do or what to say. He wished he’d taken a few minutes and thought this whole thing through.
His throbbing leg forced him to make a split-second decision, however, and he turned and started to leave again, grunting in pain. He needed to sit. Probably lie down, actually. Not stand here and keep trying to talk to a man who wouldn’t speak .
Not that Jake blamed him. There was obviously a reason.
Jake glanced back at the man when he reached the door. Steadying himself with a hand on the doorjamb, he forced a smile as best he could.
The young man still just stared at his hands, his jaw taut and trembling. He looked like he was ready to take off, except to Jake’s eyes, the man also looked so weak and frail that he might barely be able to stand by himself, much less walk.
Jake’s stomach churned as he pictured the young man trying to leave—heading out into the cold, pouring rain, coughing and stumbling.
“You can stay here if you’d like,” Jake blurted out, gripping the doorjamb even more tightly. The man just closed his eyes. “I don’t know what your situation is, and I don’t need to,” Jake added quickly. “But it’s cold and raining, and I’d much rather...” He trailed off for a moment as he watched the young man lift a hand and wipe his cheek. Shit, was he crying? Jake pursed his lips and swallowed down the ache building in his chest. “I’d really much rather you stay here if you have no place to go. I’ve got the extra room. It’s not a problem.”
At this point, he didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t wait for one. He needed to get off his leg, and soon. So without another word, he turned and left the room, limping down the hallway back to the kitchen. Then he picked up his tea and laptop from the table, grabbed the home phone off the receiver, and shuffled the rest of the way to the couch, fighting for every step.
By the time he finally set all the things on the coffee table and then collapsed onto the couch, he was pretty sure he was the one who was going to need a doctor.
Jake took several deep breaths as he repositioned himself so his back was against the armrest, then he lifted his bad leg up onto the couch and closed his eyes. He could almost hear his sister’s voice now.
“You did what?! Jacob Andrew Wright, what the actual fuck? Are you trying to get yourself hospitalized?!”
He would argue, in his defense, that he had saved the man’s life. And his sister would sigh with resignation and admit that was a pretty noble thing to do. Then she’d continue to rip him a new one while also vowing to be there as soon as possible and with his refilled prescription.
Grimacing, he leaned forward and picked up the phone. He’d call Sue first, just to let her know the man was awake and responsive... sort of. And then he’d call his doctor and then his sister. Leave the scariest call for last.
With a laugh that probably came out more like a grunt, Jake hit the call button and started dialing.
“Jacob Andrew Wright, what the—”
“Kris, listen—”
“No, you listen! I don’t want to be having to visit you in the hospital again. You should’ve... Ah, fuck, I don’t know what you should’ve done. But, really? You really carried the man up from the beach?”
Jake sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Kris, it’s not a big deal,” he argued, keeping his voice low. “I’m, well... I mean, yeah, it hurts now, but I’ll be fine.”
“Really, Jake?”
“Well . . .”
He wished he could just gloss over all the things that made his bad situation even worse. But he couldn’t lie to her. Besides, she was probably his best friend, and even though she lived nearly five hours away in Sacramento, she was also his closest relative. Plus, he didn’t really want to lie about it anyway.
And so, with another sigh, he started into a long-winded explanation of all of the little scary-ish details that he hadn’t mentioned yet. Like the fact that Sue had told him the repairs to the road could take days or even weeks, depending on whether the storm moved through and cleared up quickly, like it was supposed to. And like how he’d realized he was out of his prescription pain meds and although his doctor had sent a new prescription to the pharmacy, it would be at least a few days before it could be filled. Not that he had any way of picking it up right now, either.
“God, Jake, you need that medication,” she interrupted, just as he’d been about to tell her that his cane was also down at the bottom of the stairs to the beach.
And she was right. He knew what this was going to do to him—the pain was already working its way farther up his leg and into his hip. He’d have even more trouble walking. And sleeping. Not to mention caring for his new housemate—should the man decide to stay.
“I know! I’ll pick it up for you—maybe they can rush it so it’s ready sooner?—and then I’ll drive out there and rent one of those boats from Hal, is it? Right at the marina?”
Jake laughed, maybe a little too loudly. “Kris, I appreciate that, but that’s a little extreme, don’t you think? ”
“Not if it means you won’t be in pain,” she replied softly. “I can hear it in your voice, you know. I can tell it’s worse than you want to admit.”
He hated that she knew the truth, but he also wasn’t about to deny it. “It’s... not good.”
“Jake.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m worried, too, alright?” He pushed himself up to sit a little taller, grimacing. “But there’s really nothing I can do about it right now except try to stay off of it and wait for the road to be repaired. And no, as sweet as it is for you to offer, I don’t want you taking a whole day to come out here and try to mission-impossible me my prescription.” The words came out a little harsher than he’d meant them to, and he immediately shook his head. “I mean—”
“I would, though, Jake. You know that, right? If you need me to, please, please tell me.”
He could hear the mixture of worry and love in her voice, and he frowned again. “I know. I’m sorry to worry you. And you should know that I had no intention of screwing up my leg when I went to go on my walk this morning.”
“I guess you only promised me you wouldn’t climb up on a roof, not that you wouldn’t get all heroic and play superhero.”
There was a moment of quiet where he couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, he reached out and picked up his mug. His tea was barely still warm, and he drank the last sip before turning his thoughts back to the man hopefully resting in the extra bedroom.
“The man won’t talk yet. I don’t know his story,” Jake said quietly. He set the mug back down. “But I’ll keep you updated, okay? Just remember”—Jake cleared his throat—“my cell phone’s not working. I’ll order a new one, but again, with the road out...”
“Yeah, it’ll be a few days, I suppose,” Krista said, and then she let out a sort of resigned sigh. “I’m proud of you, even if you just screwed yourself over. You did a good thing, little brother. But be careful, okay? And call me. And please, please, if you need me, please let me know, and I’ll figure out how to get there—road or no road.”
“I will.”
“Talk to you later?”
“Yep. Bye, Kris.”
“Bye, lunkhead.”
Jake chuckled as he hung up the phone, and then he twisted to look toward the hallway again. It’d been a while now—at least thirty or forty-five minutes—and he hadn’t heard so much as a peep from his houseguest. He hoped that meant the man was resting. And if his leg didn’t hurt so much, maybe he’d get up and check.
“Ah, damn,” he mumbled to himself as the worry he’d been trying to hide during all of his phone calls resurfaced with a vengeance. Gritting his teeth, Jake pushed himself to his feet. Then, slowly, he made his way back down the hall toward the extra bedroom.