Quentin
Saturday morning, I blinked my eyes open to darkness. Tugging back my sleep mask, I reached for the nightstand and pushed the button, making my curtains draw back.
Light spilled in through the growing gap, stinging my eyes.
The grounds were tinged gray, thanks to winter dormancy and the overcast sky, but I rose from bed, grabbed my water jug, and stood in front of the window, getting the natural light in my eyes to help my circadian rhythm while I drank my water.
I stood there until my water was gone and then padded to the bathroom, changing out of my sleep clothes and into my swim trunks. Slippers kept my feet warm from the tile floor, but nothing could help the brisk air that hit me outside.
Tendrils of steam wafted from my heated pool, like fingers inviting me closer. I kicked off my slippers and dipped into the warm waters. As I worked through my physical therapy routine, the ache in my hip subsided. This weather wasn’t helping the matter.
Then I swam my laps, going back and forth across the pool, the sound of my breath and disrupted water my only company.
Only after my swim did I check my phone for messages while waiting for the shower water to heat up. There were a few questions from the controller about the end-of-year progress report that I answered quickly.
Setting my phone aside, I stepped into the waterfall shower head, relishing the warmth as it sluiced over my body. With my eyes closed, Rei instantly came to mind. That short skirt, tight leggings clinging to thick thighs...
I shuddered, taking my length in my hand.
The way her perfect lips had parted when I walked in behind her as she cleaned my office...
Thinking of her was hotter than any photo, any video I could find, and I took my time imagining just what I would do to her, how her curvaceous body would react to every touch...
Fuck, I was done for. She wouldn’t come to this date if she knew exactly how bad I had it.
The way my body reacted to the mere thought of her.
The water washed away the proof of my arousal as I soaped the rest of my body.
Out of the shower, I moisturized, shaved, and dressed until I was ready for the day.
I wouldn’t be going to the office, so I dressed casually in a white button-down with a loose knit sweater and paired it with black pants and suede sneakers.
There were hours yet until my date with Rei—if she showed up—so I got in my car and drove to the hospital.
I didn’t often drive, instead using transit time to complete work duties or make calls, so the car still smelled brand new.
It had hardly been used at all, with less than a hundred miles on the odometer.
At the hospital, I let the valet take my car to the garage and walked inside.
The smell instantly hit my nose, along with a tightness in my chest. The doctor told Bryce that Simon was responding well to treatment, but how long would that last with Simon’s kids in the know?
I was sure they had been the ones behind his attack, no matter how devastated Aleyna acted on social media.
My jaw clenched as I continued toward the intermediate care unit. The nurse at the front desk was the same guy as when I first visited. “Does Simon have visitors?” I asked him.
He shook his head, confused. “Is he supposed to?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine my mom or dad being in the hospital for a day without my brother or me visiting, even with our busy schedules.
My footsteps slowed the closer I got to Simon’s room, not sure what I’d see. His feet came into view first, or at least, the shape of them under crisp white linens.
I knocked on the door, softly so I wouldn’t wake him if he was sleeping, but giving him privacy if he was awake and wanted it.
“Come in,” Simon said. “A popsicle sounds really good right now.”
“I don’t have one of those,” I murmured as I entered.
Simon gave me a tired smile, and my heart sank. This is what responding well to treatment looked like?
Red and yellow sores covered his arms and wound up his neck.
Patches of gauze covered what I assumed to be the worst of them.
There was even one at the corner of his mouth that could have been a giant cold sore if I hadn’t known better.
Dark circles were under his eyes, and his whole face was puffy, whether from the IV, side effects of Prussian blue, his chronic heart failure, or a combination of the three, I didn’t know.
“Your poker face needs some work,” Simon muttered. “I know I look like shit. Sit down.”
My neck warmed as I did what he asked. “Sorry. I’d ask how you’re doing, but...”
“I’m doing well, considering,” he replied. Then he passed me a folded-up newspaper. “I can’t seem to finish this crossword. Will you give it a look?”
Despite being a numbers guy, I loved a good crossword. And it was something to occupy myself so I wouldn’t stare at his sores. “Got a pen?”
He handed one to me, and I studied the puzzle to see what I could fill in. We sat in amicable silence punctuated by the beeps of his machine and the scratches of pen over thin paper as I filled in words. “You got this one wrong”—I showed him the page—“Deceive is spelled with the I after the E.”
He narrowed his gaze, annoyed at himself. “Damn it, I know that.”
I scratched out the incorrect letters. “Try now. The rest should fall into place.”
Taking it back, he studied the puzzle, letting out exasperated sighs and small interjections as he pieced the rest of it together. “Done.” He set it down on the table, then reached for his drink. After a small sip, he coughed a sharp, rattling cough.
I held back a wince.
Setting his drink back down, he said, “I heard you have a date today. I didn’t assume it was with me.”
I shook my head at him. “You’re awful pretty, but you’re not my date.”
He chuckled softly.
“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” I told him. “I’ve heard a lot in the news lately.”
“It’s all media bullshit. Anything to get people’s attention.”
I hesitated. “Should we have told your kids?”
“Iris called them,” he replied. Nothing more.
It was only sick curiosity that had me asking, “Have they been to see you?”
He barked out a laugh. “You know the answer to that.”
I arched my eyebrows.
He sighed. “Aleyna came to get a picture for her Instagram. ‘Poor sick dad.’ ‘Poor me with the sick dad.’ ‘Tune in next Saturday for a new episode.’”
Even though Simon said it lightly, I felt sad for him. “Simon, why are you so determined to give them everything you’ve worked so hard for when they clearly wouldn’t do the same for you?”
A sad look filled his face. The man who used to have such a big presence in front of a lecture hall seemed so small in that bed. “I made mistakes with them when they were younger. I suppose I don’t blame them.”
Pity made me shift in my seat. “Simon, they’re adults now. I know you care for them.”
He shrugged. “You don’t get to choose your family, and for better or worse, they’re the ones I have.”
But I disagreed with that. “The guys are my brothers just as much as my brother is.” If I ever adopted a child, I’d love them as much as one with my own DNA. Blood couldn’t be the only decider.
Simon side-eyed me. “I’m sure Bryce thought that Jude was his family before Jude tried to vote him out. Chosen family is all well and good, but you need something more to tie you together. Blood, a marriage, a contract... it keeps people coming back even after you have reasons to stay apart.”
The words were so sad, so jaded.
Were they true too?