“Hey, no brooding the first couple weeks. Only vacation.”
If this was a vacation, it wouldn’t hurt so much—physically or otherwise. “That would be easier if I didn’t start physical therapy next week.”
“Okay, a week’s worth of vacation. Then you can brood.”
Teddy snorted. Rick was a good friend. He had an imposing presence as a large, muscly type, but even as one of the best playwrights Teddy had ever met, he kept to smaller theaters, just enough to be known and comfortable. He always said that his true success was in still being happy with his husband of fifteen years.
Rick’s husband, Dan, was a good friend, too, though a little too motherly, for lack of a better word. He was an engineer, a wealthy one, yet he packed Rick’s lunch for him every day. Neither of them could ever understand what it was like to feel as lonely as Teddy did sometimes.
“I gotta go, Rick. All this exciting relaxing ahead, you know. No brooding, I promise.” The kettle was starting its war cry. Now that it was evening and Finn and his friends had gone inside, Teddy thought he’d give reading on the beach another shot with a hot cup of tea.
“All right. You be good, Teddy.”
“You too.”
His phone buzzed almost as soon as he clicked End Call. He thought Rick had forgotten something, until he saw it was a text.
From Stewart Hartley, the choreographer who’d replaced him. Hartley was brilliant and knew it and never failed to mention as much any time he could fit it into conversation. He was also ten years younger than Teddy.
The message was short:
I need your help.
Teddy stared, amazed that Hartley would admit such a thing. He was midtext back, asking how he could be of assistance, when another message came through.
I can’t find anything in your office. Well, MY office now. Where did you keep your press contacts? It’s almost time for Spring Season!
He wasn’t looking for advice; he just wanted to rub it in that he was in and Teddy was out. Teddy had kept his press contacts in the back of the middle desk drawer, but they were also in the computer, and Hartley knew that.
Teddy responded back simply with the information, then shoved his phone in his pocket before reading any response. Maybe hewasdue for a little moping.
At least the waves were calm when he got outside, just that low, soothing whoosh. He sipped his tea, settled in comfortably, and got through several chapters of his book without realizing how late it had become.
Hibiscus tea was the kind he preferred before bed, which was probably why he fell asleep.
Waking with a start, chin on his chest, book in his lap, Teddy heard the faint sounds of laughter and music in the distance. Combined with the smoky scent in the air, Finn and his friends must be having a bonfire. Teddy had gotten some reading in, but now he needed to sleep for real. And pee. And—
“Ah!” he gasped when he tried to sit up.
He hadn’t taken his pain meds before going outside, only to fall asleep in his less than supportive beach chair, and now his hip was killing him.
“Teddy?”
Oh no.
“Hey, I didn’t realize you were still out here. I was just coming to knock on your door.” Finn appeared from around theumbrella, without the dog or volleyball but still in trunks with a loose button-up beach shirt covered in palm fronds. “We can turn the music down if— Are you okay?” His gaze darted to where Teddy clutched his hip and one arm of the beach chair.
Teddy could drop dead any time now. But he also couldn’t get up. “I forgot to take my pain medication, and now it hurts too much to move.”
“How long have you been there?” Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “That chair’s not at all conducive for—”
“—hip issues, especially after surgery, I know. I… fell asleep.” Because Teddy was an old man compared to this kid.
A warm smile lit up Finn’s face. “Surgery, huh? I was going to offer you a drink, see if you wanted to join us, but I guess I have to offer something else.” He came around the side of Teddy’s chair and squatted down.
“What are you doing?” Teddy leaned away from him.
“Getting you out of that chair. Now hang on to your book.”
