Together.
Tarius hadn’t expected Branson to stick around the rest of the afternoon, but he did. He was still in the waiting room when Tarius returned, after having finally visited with Linus. He’d hated seeing his baby brother so upset and unsettled, but Linus was also showing incredible bravery in the face of a life-altering surgery.
When they finally got word that Linus was stable enough to be moved to an observation room, Tarius took that as the not-so-subtle, “Everyone go home and get some rest” it was meant to be. Visiting hours were ending soon, anyway.
“You’re coming home, right?” Tarius asked Dad, who had stressed himself into needing a wheelchair out of the hospital. “You need to sleep in your own bed.”
“Yes, we’re coming home tonight,” Dad replied, giving Tarius’s wrist a squeeze. He glanced past him, then met Tarius’s eyes. “Are you?”
As a former constable of several decades, Dad had an observant eye, so Tarius didn’t bother pretending. “I’m not sure. I’ll text you my plans when I know them.”
“Good man.”
Tarius leaned down and hugged his sire. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you back, son.”
Branson met him in the corridor, and they walked toward the elevator together. “I don’t suppose I could bum a ride home off you?” Branson asked. “My car is at my parents’ house.”
“No problem,” Tarius replied. “Do you want to grab some takeout on the way? Maybe eat dinner together at your place?” His cheeks warmed. Had he seriously invited himself to Branson’s place to eat? Could he be more presumptuous?
Branson gave him a sideways smile. “I’d like that. Feeling up for anything special?”
He’d had a slice of pizza a little while ago, but he was craving something else. His diet this week had been terrible, full of greasy fast food and premade deli sandwiches. “This is going to sound nuts, but I’d love a salad.”
“A salad?” Branson pressed the elevator’s down button. “There’s no shortage of those around town. Feeling one in particular?”
“Do you know a restaurant called Carter Street Grill?”
“Yeah, I’ve driven past it a bunch of times, but I’ve never eaten there.”
Tarius pulled up a photo of the restaurant’s menu on his phone. He’d started saving those instead of hoarding paper menus. “Here, pick whatever you want, my treat.”
“Cool, thanks.” Branson spent the entire elevator trip down browsing the menu. “Actually, the salads sound amazing. I bet I can guess which one you’re going to order.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do. Here.” Branson gave him the phone back. “Text it to me. Then I’ll make my guess, and we’ll see if I’m right.”
Tarius chuckled and did as asked. He hit send as he followed Branson off the elevator. “Okay, smarty pants. What am I ordering?”
“The spinach berry salad with balsamic vinaigrette.”
“Dude.”
Branson checked his texts. Laughed. “I know you, man. That sounds really good, but minus the bleu cheese. Not a fan.”
“Ask them to sub it for something else.”
“Good plan.”
Branson called in their orders while following Tarius to the parking garage. Twenty minutes later, they were opening their containers at Branson’s kitchen counter, organizing plastic forks, and pouring drinks.
The salad was amazing and exactly what Tarius needed. Some fresh greens and fruit, with a little bit of salty cheese. He only ate half, because it was less about the food than the freshness, and after a while, he and Branson were cuddled up on the couch.
The movie didn’t matter. Spending time with Branson mattered. It relaxed Tarius enough to let his guard down. To let his words escape unchecked. “I was scared today,” Tarius said. “So scared for Linus.”
“I know. We get scared because we love our brothers.”
