The elderly downstairs neighbours were a pair of busybodies who spent most of their time twitching curtains, but as Sophie dropped into the chair beside him and her familiar, comforting scent surrounded him, Rupert had never been more glad of their nosiness. “It could be a stroke, Soph. We might have lost him all over again.”
“You don’t know that. What have the doctors said?”
“Not much. They’re waiting on tests.”
“Tests for what?”
Rupert shrugged. “I don’t really know. Stroke, meningitis, a fucking brain bleed. Does it matter? He’s fucked.”
“Stop it.” Sophie gripped Rupert’s face and forced him to meet her gaze. “It’s okay to be scared, but you have to give him a chance. Don’t write him off.”
“I’m not writing him off. I’m just being realistic.”
“You’re thinking too fast.”
Whatever.Rupert lost the will to argue. He dropped his head into his hands again and stayed that way, taking little comfort from Sophie’s gentle hand on his back, until footsteps roused him sometime later.
“Mr. O’Neil?”
Rupert jumped. It seemed like he’d been waiting a week for Dr. Stanton to return. “Do you know what it is? Did he have a stroke?”
Dr. Stanton held her hands up. “We’re still waiting on results. I came to see if you wanted to sit with him.”
It was a daft question. Rupert left Sophie in the waiting room and followed Dr. Stanton to the curtained bay where Jodi’s bed was. Jodi was curled on his side in much the same way Rupert had left him, except the oxygen mask had been swapped for nasal tubes, and a cannula had been inserted into the back of his hand.
Rupert bent over the bed rail. Jodi appeared asleep, but he wasn’t convinced. “All right down there, boyo?”
Jodi groaned and cracked an eye open. “Rupe?”
“I’m here. How’re you doing? Do you feel better?”
“I can move my tongue.”
Rupert smiled in spite of the dull terror putting up shelves in his insides. “That’s good. How’s the head?”
“Dunno.”
Not so good, though Rupert knew Jodi well enough to know whatever drugs were dripping through his IV must have at least taken the edge off the pain. “Hang in there. We’ll know what’s going on soon.”
“I’m okay ... Don’t get worried. I love you.”
It was a little late for Rupert not to get worried. Worry had been his constant companion from the moment the police had ferried him to Jodi’s bedside all those months ago, but Jodi’s sentiment now—so different from the long weeks of nothing after the accident—went a long way. “I love you more. Can I do anything for you?”
“Warm me up? Bloody ... freezing.”
Jodi was already huddled beneath two blankets. Rupert searched around the bed space but could find no more, so he pulled the curtain back, looking for a nurse. Jodi caught his hand.
“Lie with me?”
“Lie with you?” Rupert let Jodi draw him closer. “You’re in hospital. We can’t do that here.”
Jodi opened both eyes, though one still drooped. “Please?”
Rupert had never been able to refuse Jodi, even when whatever he wanted was beyond what Rupert could give. But he could give him this. There was room enough for both of them on the bed, and who knew when they’d get to lie together again if Dr. Stanton returned with bad news.
It took some manoeuvring, but with Rupert’s help, Jodi was able to shuffle over so Rupert could lie down beside him. Then, he pressed himself into Rupert’s body and lay his head on his chest. Rupert tucked the blankets around him and held him close. It felt a little surreal. If he shut his eyes, he could almost pretend they were at home.
Almost.
