“Makes sense,” Jude said, chuckling. “It’s my color too.”
“How are you feeling, Jude?” Ten asked.
Ronan watched as Jude sighed heavily. If Jude had a nickel for every time someone had asked that question in the month between his accident and today, he could retire a millionaire.
“I’m okay, Ten. Still a little dizzy if I stand up too quick. A little double vision, but it’s getting better.” Jude pushed his empty plate toward Ronan, who wordlessly took it and scooped more lasagna.
After Ronan had gotten over the horror of almost losing Jude, he’d spent a lot of time putting himself into his friend’s shoes. How would he handle the same injury? Definitely not with the same grace Jude had. Would he be a Positive Polly or a Debbie Downer? Would he be impatient, bored, lonely, angry? Probably all of the above and then some.
“I’m gonna go make sure Wolf packs enough clothes.” Cope got up from the table and set his empty plate in the sink. “Last time he spent the night at your house, he tried to wear his pants inside out because he only packed pajamas.”
“I’ll help.” Ten pressed a kiss to Ronan’s temple and followed Cope out of the room.
“Alone at last.” Jude snickered. “This is some good shit.” He pointed his fork to his plate and dug into his second helping.
“I’m really getting the hang of cooking,” Ronan said, reaching for the garlic bread.
“Sorry that I’ve been nothing but a lump this past month.” Jude offered a small shrug.
Ronan shook his head. “I don’t want to hear that shit. I scrubbed your blood off the basement floor. I prayed for you almost constantly, which you know is something I don’t ever do. Your job right now is to heal. The last thing we need is for you to have a setback. I almost lost you,” Ronan said, sniffling, very close to crying. “My daughter almost lost her favorite uncle.”
Jude snickered. “I promisenotto tell Fitz every chance I get.”
“Yeah, right.” Ronan knew that’s exactly what Jude would do and he couldn’t wait to see it. “This last month has taken its toll on all of us. You and the kids especially. All we want is for you to get back to normal. It’s annoying as hell having to be nice to you all the time.”
“I’ve got an appointment on Monday to reevaluate my condition. I want to get back to work more than anything, but as much as I hate to admit it, I’m no use to you if I get dizzy every time I stand up. Sometimes I feel nauseous after reading a few paragraphs. So I can’t even do office work.”
“It will all come with time. I know it sucks to keep hearing people say that, but it’s the truth.” To be honest, it sucked having to say it. Jude was the strongest man Ronan knew and seeing him at less than full-strength was awful. He wanted his best friend back at his side at work and in life. Hanging out watching golf with Jude on Sunday afternoons, instead of being out and about, sucked monkey balls.
“I couldn’t have come this far without you, Ronan,” Jude said softly. “You’ve gotten Wolf and Lizzy off to school on time, been there to pick them up and take them out. You’re cooking for us twice a week, delivering meals, shoveling snow. You’re the onekeeping us afloat. Cope is stressed to the max, being responsible for all of the things he usually does, along with my chores too. I don’t know how, but I promise I’ll find a way to pay you back.”
“Just get better. That’s all the payback I need.” Ronan slapped a hand on Jude’s shoulder. “I swear to God, if I have to spend one more weekend watching assholes hit a tiny, white ball with a stick, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.”
Jude laughed, sounding like his old self.
Ronan wasn’t a doctor, but he knew laughter was the best medicine. He’d do everything in his power to make sure Jude had everything he needed to make a full recovery.
2
Tennyson
After dinner, Ten took the kids back to his house and got them all ready for bed, while Ronan stayed with Jude and helped clean the kitchen. He was so proud that Ronan was taking such an active role in helping his friend. The only downside was that it left Ten to pull double duty at their house, which meant washing the breakfast dishesafterdinner.
Once the dishes were drying in the rack, Ten sat at the kitchen table and sorted through the pile of mail. He’d gotten into the bad habit of just tossing it on the kitchen island and leaving it there until the weekend. All of their bills were on autopay, so Ten didn’t have to worry about late payments. All that was left in the stack were magazines, spam offers urging him to get new windows, a reverse mortgage and life insurance, catalogues and sales flyers from the local grocery stores.
With the kids settled in the living room with snacks andThe Goonies, Ten was free to sort to his heart’s content. He grabbed the grocery ads, noting one chain’s low price on chicken wings, thinking it would be smart to stock up before the Super Bowl. Last year, he’d had to serve chicken fingers at their party. The kids loved it. The adults, not so much.
Next were the catalogs with their after Christmas sales. He wasn’t interested in any of their bargain prices. He’d spent a bit too much on Christmas. When they’d found out Jude was going to be okay, he and Ronan went a little crazy with buying gifts. Not so much that they’d end up sleeping in Ronan’s Mustang, but the last thing they needed wasmorestuff.
The final pile of mail was the business envelopes. Ten went through them one at a time. Home equity loans. Credit cardoffers. Twenty-five percent off a cruise to the Caribbean, if he acted now. As much as Ten would love a little fun in the sun, he set that envelope in the trash pile, which left him with only one piece of mail to go; a plain white envelope with a Salem postmark, no return address. Just his name and address in black ink block printed on the front.
A shiver slipped down Ten’s spine as he picked it up. His gift screamed at him not to open it. The printing style had freaked him out. Ten knew if he threw it away without opening it, he’d just end up downstairs in the middle of the night, rooting through the trash like a hungry raccoon.
Taking a deep breath, Ten ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The contents were written in the same block printing style as his name and address.
“My dearest Tennyson,” he read out loud. “I know something you don’t know.”
Tennyson felt his stomach dip. He was cast instantly back to grade school and the taunting voices of his classmates, which made him want to tear the letter to pieces. Again, he stopped himself and kept reading. “You don’t know me, but I know you. I also know your husband, the great cold case detectiveanddegenerate alcoholic, Ronan O’Mara. I spy with my little eye, a man sitting alone in the parking lot of Bob’s Liquors on Chestnut Street, drowning his sorrows in a bottle of Hennessey. Oh, well, a relapse was bound to happen sometime. I suspect your husband’s drinking has to do with the fact that your little angel, Everly, has grown into a mouthy little bitch.”
