Chapter 2 Temporary Care
You Need to Stop
By eight the next morning, Riley had already learned three things about Adrian Cole.
The first was that the man could sleep through an alarm if he was exhausted enough. The second was that he could wake up and immediately reach for his phone without even opening both eyes. The third was that Adrian considered every instruction about rest to be a personal challenge.
Riley stood in the kitchen doorway and watched him sit at the breakfast counter with his phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
"You were supposed to eat first."
Adrian didn't look up.
"I am eating."
Riley glanced at the coffee.
"Coffee isn't breakfast."
"It has calories."
"That might be the most ridiculous medical argument I've ever heard."
Adrian finally looked up.
His hair was slightly disheveled, his dark shirt wrinkled from sleep, and the exhaustion that had made him look almost frighteningly fragile the night before was still visible beneath his eyes.
Yet he somehow managed to look irritated rather than vulnerable.
"I have a meeting at ten."
"No, you don't."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"How do you know?"
"Because I checked the schedule you left open on your laptop."
"You went through my laptop?"
"The screen was already open."
Adrian stared at him.
Riley calmly placed a plate of toast, eggs, and fruit in front of him.
"You have a follow-up appointment tomorrow, no hospital work today, and instructions to rest."
"I can handle a meeting."
"You collapsed yesterday."
"I remember."
"Good."
Adrian picked up his coffee.
Riley took it away.
Adrian blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"After breakfast."
"I need caffeine."
"You need food."
"I need both."
"You can have both."
Riley placed the coffee beside the plate.
"After you eat."
Adrian looked as though nobody had ever spoken to him that way.
Perhaps nobody had.
Riley had worked around doctors long enough to know that many of them were terrible patients. They were accustomed to being in control, accustomed to understanding what was happening, and accustomed to telling other people what to do.
Adrian seemed to have taken all of those habits and turned them into a personality.
He picked up a piece of toast.
Riley hid his smile.
"Thank you."
Adrian took a bite.
For several minutes, the kitchen remained quiet.
Riley cleaned the dishes from the previous night while Adrian ate. He deliberately didn't hover. Adrian didn't need someone watching every movement he made. He needed a routine that didn't make him feel incapable.
When breakfast was finished, Adrian reached for his phone again.
Riley sighed.
"Please tell me you're not calling the hospital."
"I'm checking messages."
"That's the same thing."
Adrian ignored him.
A few seconds later, his expression changed.
"There's an issue with a patient."
Riley stopped what he was doing.
"Is it an emergency?"
"Not exactly."
"Then someone else can handle it."
"Riley."
"No."
Adrian stared at him.
"You don't get to say no to me."
"You're right."
Riley dried his hands and turned toward him.
"I get to say no to the person who collapsed on his kitchen floor less than twelve hours ago and is already trying to return to work."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"I can't simply disappear."
"You aren't disappearing. You're recovering."
"People are depending on me."
"And someone needs to depend on you too."
The words landed differently.
Adrian looked away.
Riley saw something flicker across his face, something more vulnerable than irritation.
He didn't push.
Instead, he gently took the phone from Adrian's hand and placed it on the counter.
"You don't have to solve everything today."
Adrian exhaled.
"You're making this sound easy."
"I didn't say it was easy."
Riley picked up the breakfast plate.
"I said you have to try."
The rest of the morning passed slowly.
That was probably the point.
Riley made soup for lunch because Adrian's appetite was still poor. He opened the curtains to let sunlight into the apartment and moved a chair closer to the window so Adrian could sit somewhere other than the kitchen counter.
He also created a simple schedule.
Breakfast.
Medication.
Rest.
Lunch.
A short walk if Adrian felt well enough.
More rest.
Dinner.
No work.
No operating.
No answering unnecessary calls after eight.
Adrian stared at the handwritten list Riley had placed on the refrigerator.
"You made me a schedule."
"Yes."
"I have a schedule."
"Your schedule is the reason you're exhausted."
Adrian almost smiled.
Almost.
Riley noticed it anyway.
"You almost smiled."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I was thinking."
"About smiling?"
"About asking you to leave."
Riley laughed.
The sound softened the room.
Adrian looked at him for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he turned away.
Riley noticed.
He also noticed the way Adrian's shoulders relaxed whenever the apartment became quiet.
The more time they spent together, the more Riley understood that Adrian wasn't simply overworked.
He had built his entire life around being useful.
If there was nothing to fix, nobody to save, and no emergency demanding his attention, Adrian seemed unsure what to do with himself.
Riley understood that feeling more than he wanted to admit.
He had spent years caring for children who struggled to express emotions, learning to recognize sadness behind silence and fear behind anger.
Adrian was different.
He was an adult who had become exceptionally good at hiding both.
After lunch, Adrian was supposed to rest.
Instead, Riley found him sitting at his desk with a laptop open.
"Adrian."
"I'm only checking something."
"You said you were resting."
"I am resting."
"You're sitting at a desk."
"That can be restful."
Riley folded his arms.
"Close the laptop."
Adrian looked up.
"You've become very comfortable giving orders."
"You've become very comfortable ignoring them."
"I have work."
"You have a body that needs recovery."
Adrian rubbed his forehead.
"I can't stop thinking about the hospital."
"I know."
"Then you understand."
"I understand that you care."
Riley's voice softened.
"But caring about people doesn't mean destroying yourself for them."
Adrian looked down.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then he closed the laptop.
Riley smiled.
"Thank you."
Adrian stood.
"I'll go lie down."
"Good."
He took three steps toward the hallway.
Then stopped.
"I hate this."
Riley leaned against the desk.
"I know."
"I don't like being told what I can and can't do."
"I know."
"I don't like being watched."
"I know."
Adrian looked at him.
"How do you know?"
Riley shrugged.
"Because I've been paying attention."
Something about the answer silenced him.
Adrian went to bed.
Riley returned to the kitchen.
He didn't know how long he worked there before hearing footsteps.
Adrian appeared in the doorway sometime later.
"You should eat."
"I've eaten."
"Not enough."
"I'm fine."
Riley gave him a look.
Adrian sighed.
"There's something in the refrigerator."
"I'll heat it."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
Riley smiled.
"But I'm going to."
That evening, they ate together at the dining table.
It was the first time Adrian had used it in months.
Perhaps years.
Riley didn't ask.
He simply placed the food between them and let the conversation drift toward harmless things.
The children's art program.
A funny story about one of Riley's young students.
A book Riley had been reading.
Adrian listened more than he spoke.
But gradually, he began answering.
By the time dinner ended, Riley realized Adrian had spent almost an hour without checking his phone.
That felt like an accomplishment.
Later, Riley was cleaning the kitchen when he heard the refrigerator door open.
He turned.
Adrian stood in front of it, staring at the shelves.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm hungry."
"That's good."
"I'm making something."
Riley glanced at the clock.
It was nearly eleven.
"You should be sleeping."
"I slept earlier."
"That's not how recovery works."
Adrian ignored him.
He pulled out a container and reached for a pan.
Riley watched as he stood at the stove.
For several minutes, everything seemed fine.
Then Adrian's movements slowed.
His hand remained on the counter.
His eyes closed.
"Adrian?"
No response.
Riley crossed the kitchen quickly.
Adrian opened his eyes.
"I'm fine."
"You almost fell asleep standing up."
"I was tired."
"Exactly."
Adrian tried to continue.
Riley gently took the pan from his hand.
"No."
"I can finish."
"No, you can't."
Adrian looked at him.
Riley's patience finally broke.
"Adrian, you need to stop."
The words came out more firmly than before.
Adrian went still.
Riley took a breath and softened his voice without backing away.
"You keep saying you're fine because you've spent years believing you have to be.
But your body already told you otherwise.
You collapsed. You haven't eaten properly.
You haven't slept properly. You're still trying to work, and now you're standing in the kitchen half asleep because you refuse to admit that you're exhausted. "
Adrian's expression tightened.
Riley continued.
"You don't have to prove anything to me."
"I don't need a caretaker."
"Maybe not."
Riley set the pan down.
"But if you refuse to take care of yourself, someone else has to do it."
Adrian stared at him.
For once, he had no argument.
Riley stepped closer, his voice gentler now.
"You are allowed to stop."
Adrian looked away.
The silence between them stretched.
Then, slowly, his shoulders dropped.
"All right."
Riley nodded.
"All right."
Adrian looked toward the hallway.
"I'll go to bed."
"And I'll make sure you eat something first."
Adrian gave him a tired, reluctant smile.
"You're impossible."
Riley smiled back.
"So I've been told."
And for the first time since Riley had entered Adrian's life, Adrian didn't fight the care being offered to him.
He simply accepted it.
One Week
The next morning, Adrian woke before the alarm.
For several seconds, he remained still beneath the blankets, staring at the ceiling while his mind automatically began listing everything he needed to do.
The hospital.
His patients.
The committee meeting he had postponed.