“No problem.” Branson winked. “Although, I’ll need to attack the cafeteria as soon as they open. I didn’t even think to stop somewhere and bring coffee.”
“There’s a coffee machine down the hall, but it’s pretty bad. Tar your insides coffee.”
“Hah. That’s the stuff Papa and I like. Coffee strong enough to get up and walk out of the pot on its own.”
Tarius chuckled. “Then by all means, help yourself to that swill.”
“Maybe in a while.” Branson pressed his knee against Tarius’s. “Is there anything I can get you? Or your parents?”
“I just want Linus not to be furious about Dad’s decision.”
“Papa’s text wasn’t super specific on that, just that Linus needed leg surgery.”
“I wish it was that simple.” Tarius glanced at Dad and Liam, who were close together on another couch, arms entwined. Liam seemed to be nodding off. “Linus’s right leg was trapped in the taxi, and it took a long time to get him free. He also has a serious concussion. The surgeon gave Dad and Liam the choice of waiting to operate on the leg, so they could monitor his concussion to minimize brain damage, but that also ran a higher risk of infection from the leg wound.”
Branson swallowed hard. “Or?”
“Or amputate the right leg below his knee, which is a faster procedure than repairing damaged muscles and arteries, so he’s under anesthesia for a much shorter amount of time, which is better for his concussion.”
“So, they chose amputation?”
“Yes.” Tarius pinched his thigh to stave off more frustrated tears. “Linus can learn to walk again with prosthetics, but brain damage is…harder to navigate. Dad and Liam made the best choice they could.”
“I know they did. I cannot imagine having to make that choice for my child.”
“Or for anyone I love.” Tarius held Branson’s gaze. Bright emerald eyes possessed by him, his omegin Kell, and both the twins. Also, his Uncle Braun. It was a very strong gene in their family. Branson’s eyes were warm, inviting, and full of understanding. And affection.
“Hopefully, we’ll never have to go through that,” Branson whispered.
“From your mouth to the goddess’s ears.”
They sat quietly, occasionally fielding texts. Sometime after sunrise, a doctor finally came into the waiting room and approached Dad and Liam. Tarius shot to his feet. He and his brothers surrounded their parents, while the doctor explained the amputation had been successful, with minimal chance of infection. Linus would go from Recovery to ICU to better monitor his head wound.
“So, he’ll be okay?” Liam asked, putting every decibel of volume possible into his raspy voice.
“I am cautiously optimistic, regarding his leg,” the doctor replied. “It’s still his head we need to observe.”
“When can I see him?”
“Once he’s settled in ICU, he’ll be allowed two visitors at a time, starting at eleven.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Yes, thank you very much,” Dad said.
That was exactly the news Tarius had wanted to hear. Okay, not exactly. He’d have preferred hearing Linus’s concussion was no longer an issue, that he’d wake up in a few hours, and then they’d deal with rehab. But this was still progress. A new step toward helping Linus adjust to his new normal.
To everyone’s new normal.
After a long family discussion, they agreed they’d all go home, take showers, nap, and eat—not necessarily in that order. Liam snarled at the idea of leaving the hospital while Linus was there, but he finally acquiesced, and Dad led him out.
Tarius wasn’t sure how the decision was made, but he found himself dozing off in the passenger seat of Branson’s car. He didn’t know what time it was when he passed out in Branson’s bed, only that Branson woke him with a mug of coffee that smelled exactly how he’d described it: strong enough to walk away on its own.
“Hey, it’s ten-thirty,” Branson said. “I wasn’t sure when you’d want to go back to the hospital.”
“Mmm.” Tarius yawned as he sat up. His neck twinged and he flinched. His stress always collected in his damned neck, and it had been worse lately, since he stopped visiting The Blue Room. Something he’d never told Branson about.
The Blue Room was a strip club and legal brothel, with a mix of beta and omega employees. Tarius had no real use for the strip club, but he’d gone through a period of profound loneliness that began right before his friendship with Branson truly solidified, and he’d visited the brothel to…find companionship. He hadn’t wanted sex; he’d wanted to be held. He’d spoken to the club owner about his preferences, and the man (a widowed omega) had introduced Tarius to a dancer named Zaq Callahan.
