Chapter Six #3
“Yes, please,” he sighs. “Explain it to my husband so I can go back to sleep.”
The doctor gives a small, amused smile, then turns to me.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, Eli has something called reflex syncope. Basically, his body sometimes… overreacts. His heart rate and blood pressure can drop too fast, and he’ll faint. Most people feel it coming…dizziness, nausea, all that.”
I nod slowly, trying not to look as surprised as I feel.
The doctor goes on, “And if he’s exhausted or stressed or dehydrated, it can happen instantly. Lights out. Just boom. Without a single warning.”
Eli winces. “I most definitely didn’t get a warning this time.”
The doctor keeps talking, calm and matter-of-fact. “Now, the fainting itself? That part usually lasts less than a minute. But after the episode, the body goes into recovery mode. It’s like… well, imagine your system short-circuits. When it comes back online, it takes its sweet time.”
“Postdromal fatigue,” Eli mumbles.
“Exactly,” the doctor says. “People can sleep for hours afterward. Deep, heavy sleep. They can sleep through alarms, screaming, tornadoes. Pretty much anything.”
My stomach drops.
“Is it normal for him to be out for almost a day?” I ask.
“Normal? No,” he answers. “But it isn’t uncommon with this condition. If he was dealing with a few things all at once? Stress. Not eating. Not drinking. Panic. Exhaustion. Any combination of those can keep someone down a long time. It’s the body forcing a reset.”
I look at Eli, and he won’t meet my eyes. He’s not telling me something.
“So he wasn’t unconscious the whole time,” I say quietly.
“No,” the doctor answers. “He fainted, and then his system basically hit the snooze button until it felt safe and rested enough to wake up. So while he wasn’t awake, he also wasn’t unconscious. Simply sleeping very deeply.”
I let out a slow breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
The doctor softens his voice a little. “Your husband’s okay. He just needs rest, hydration, and probably a conversation with you about why his body decided to take the decision to rest out of his hands.”
My gaze snaps to Eli again.
He suddenly looks very interested in the blanket.
“Sweetheart,” I say, voice low. “Anything you wanna tell me?”
His cheeks flush a little. “Um. Maybe. After a nap?”
“I’ll go and get your discharge papers ready, Mr. Bryant.”
When the doctor leaves, Eli finally looks up at me… and fuck me, he really does look exhausted.
“Mr. Bryant?” he asks. “Husband?”
“Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” I smirk. “Now, tell me what’s been going on. Why do you look so fucking exhausted, pretty boy?”
“It’s nothing,” he says, deflecting immediately. “How was your night with that woman?”
I hear the jealousy in his voice, and for some damn reason, it brings me great joy.
“Short-lived,” I admit. “Apparently, my dick wasn’t interested. As a matter of fact, the bastard’s only been interested in one person lately.”
“Lucky woman,” he mutters.
“Not a woman,” I laugh, giving his hand a squeeze. “Just some pretty boy who keeps falling into my arms every chance he gets.”
His eyes widen, and I lift his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his inner wrist.
“Now… tell me.”
“It’s embarrassing,” he mutters, closing his eyes.
“Have we been working you too hard at the garage?” I ask.
“What? No,” he says, opening his eyes and looking up at me. “You guys have been nothing but great. Even Knuckles has been nice to me the past few days. It’s not that at all.”
“Alright,” I nod. “The doctor said this happens when you’re overly exhausted.”
“Among other things,” he adds quietly. “But… yeah. I’m so tired.”
“Tell me why, baby?” I ask, practically begging.
“It’s—”
“Embarrassing,” I finish for him. “I know. But tell me anyway.”
He looks honestly confused. “Why do you even care?”
“Because I find that I want to take care of you, pretty boy,” I admit. “And I can’t do that if I don’t know what you need protecting from.”
“The only thing I need protecting from is my own body,” he says.
My heart twists at how defeated he sounds.
Alright. Looks like I’m gonna have to dig the answers out of him myself.
“If your body gives you signs,” I ask carefully, “then why didn’t you notice you were overdoing it?”
“I did notice,” he whispers, eyes already sliding shut again. He sounds wrecked. Bone-deep tired. “I just… couldn’t do anything about it. My spells have been happening more often, but I always had a warning. I always got myself down before it happened.”
Something in my gut goes cold.
“I’ve seen you pass out five times this week,” I say, voice low and tight. “Has it been happening more than that?”
He doesn’t even try to pretend.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “More than double that. Sometimes, five times a day.”
My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
He keeps going, voice barely above a whisper. “But I always knew. I always felt it coming. I don’t even… I don’t even remember this one, Skip. I was getting ready for a shower, and the next thing I know, I’m here. That hasn’t happened since I was a teenager.”
His eyelids flutter like he’s fighting to stay awake, and something inside me snaps under the weight of how damn exhausted he is.
I curl my hand around his, holding him steady, grounding myself as much as him.
“Sweetheart,” I murmur, my thumb brushing across his knuckles. “Let me help you. Why did you overdo it?”
His lips twitch like he wants to answer, but his whole body just… sags.
He’s so fucking tired.
And I’m so damn scared of what would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up tonight. What if he hit his head on the side of the tub and bled out before I got there?
“Baby,” I whisper, leaning closer, “you can’t keep this up anymore. Not with what it’s doing to you. I know we don’t know each other apart from this past week, but why didn’t you reach out to me?”
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes barely open now.
“Didn’t… want to be a burden,” he mumbles.
And that just about destroys me.
“Never a burden, pretty boy,” I say, trying like hell to keep my voice calm and steady. “I’m your husband, remember? It’s my honor and fucking privilege to help you.”
Eli’s lips twitch up in a tiny smile, but his eyes stay closed. He looks too tired to lift them even if he wanted to.
“You’re not actually my husband,” he reminds me. “Did you really not sleep with that woman?”
Oh, we’re back to this topic, huh?
“I had every intention,” I admit, refusing to let go when he tries to pull his hand from mine. “I wanted to get you out of my head. Thought focusing on someone else for a while would work… it didn’t.”
“Why am I in your head?” he asks softly, voice worn thin.
“Why did you overwork yourself?” I counter.
“Why didn’t your dick work?” he fires back, smirking even with his eyes shut.
“Why are you so fucking cute?”
That gets him. His eyes fly open, wide despite how exhausted he is.
“You think I’m cute?” he asks, like it’s the most shocking thing he’s ever heard.
“I don’t call you pretty boy for no reason,” I tell him.
“That woman was beautiful,” he says. “I thought I was straight for a second when I first saw her.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah. She is beautiful.”
“And that contractor who came to plan out the remodel,” he adds. “The one who kept brushing up against you.”
Noticed that, did he?
“He was very sexy,” Eli finishes.
“Mmmhmm,” I hum, caressing the inside of his wrist with my thumb.
“Sexy and beautiful…” he mumbles, eyes closing again, his voice fading at the edges. “Both of those are far better than cute and pretty.”
Ah. Now it clicks.
The jealousy. The insecurity. The way he’s been looking at me and then away, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to want anything.
The way he thinks “cute” and “pretty” makes him less in some way.
I lean in, brushing my knuckles along his cheek, and he melts into the touch like he hasn’t been touched gently in years.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I whisper, “you really have no idea, do you?”
“My landlord upped my rent,” he blurts, cutting me off before I can confess a single damn thing. I shut my mouth instantly. Fine. He can spill his heart first. I’ll admit mine later.
“He added a hundred a month,” Eli continues, voice thin and tired. “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t pay it, I’d be kicked out. It left me broke until my next payday. I didn’t have enough for food or bills.”
My chest tightens.
“With my condition,” he whispers, “I have to have food. At least a little. I have to have air conditioning or at least a fan so I don’t get too hot. So… with no other choice, I found a job at a local club that paid me nightly before I went home.”
A club?
He’s working at a fucking club?
“It’s not much, but it’s money,” he says quickly, like he’s bracing for me to yell.
“I paid my electric bill, got some food, and I can afford the cabs to get me to the garage. But… I could feel my body slowing down. I was getting maybe two hours of sleep each night before my shift at the garage. Then I’d leave there and go straight to the club.
All I have to do is clean the back rooms where the members play. ”
Play? My jaw clenches.
“Are you working at a damn nightclub, Eli?” I ask slowly.
He flinches. He still won’t open his eyes.
“I don’t do anything but clean,” he says firmly. “I was told if I cleaned during club hours…kept every room and the equipment ready for the next client…I’d get paid under the table before I left. It wasn’t bad. I never really had to deal with the people.”
My fists curl around his hand. He never had to deal with the people? Yeah, that’s not comforting.
“But last night,” he continues, “I was so tired I could barely stand. My boss told me to leave early, and he’d still pay me. He’s really nice. Always made sure I felt safe.”
If he thinks that statement is calming. He’s dead wrong.
“But considering what I have to clean,” Eli adds with a grimace, “I always shower when I get home. Last night, I was so tired. But I didn’t feel like my body was about to shut down. I just felt… bone-deep exhaustion.”