Beau was tired of medical shit. Tubes and antiseptic and beeps and nurses—he hated them all. He kind thought Sam was pretty sick of them, too. Maybe real sick. Sam couldn’t talk too good, but he could make himself real clear.
He was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for them to change Sam’s dressings, when Coke and Dillon came in. “Hey, y’all.”
Coke waved, nodded. “How’s he doing?”
Privately Beau thought Sam might be doing better than Coke, really. The man had aged at least ten years in the last few weeks.
“He’s getting his bandages changed. You’ll be able to see him when they’re done.”
“Good deal. How’s his talking?”
“Not so good. Mostly gobbledygook.” It still seemed so wrong to see Sam open his mouth and not hear the right shit.
Still, the words were getting to make more sense. The structure was something he could make out fine. Like the verbs were in the right place. He grinned a little. “We’re gettin’ there.”
Coke smiled back. “I’m glad to hear it. You think he’ll let me see him this time?”
Sam’d been stubborn about seeing folks. The speech therapist was just starting up, just beginning to work on him.
Dillon just stood there, his mouth a solid line of displeasure. Beau winked at him. “What’s your problem, clown-boy?”
“He needs to let us see him. I’m taking Coke home.”
Ah. Well, good. Beau nodded. “Okay, then. Just let me tell him before y’all come in.”
Dillon nodded, watching as Coke wandered a few steps away, speak to the nurses at the station. “He needs to rest, Beau. He’s hurting, he’s not sleeping, and the fucking phone never stops ringing.”
“Christ.” Dillon never did hesitate to speak it, but Beau could see the lines of stress, the hard set of those shoulders. “I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s not your fault, but you know him. You know how he is. He needs to be able to rest.”
“I know, man. I know you want to see Sammy, too.” Dillon was Sam’s friend, deep down. The worry was right there, right under Dillon’s eyes.
“I do. I want to pinch his chubby little cheeks.”
Uh-huh.
Chubby.
HisSammy.
He glared a little, and Dillon cackled like a big bird. Asshole.
“They say he’s ready. Can you talk to him?” Coke seemed a little desperate.
“Sure, cher. Sure.” Beau touched Coke’s arm on the way by. “It’ll be all right, Coke. You’ll see.”
“Sure it will. He’s a trouper.”
“You just have to stop trying to carry it all.” Beau headed back to Sam’s room, nodding at the nurses, who were all getting to know him.
“Hey, baby. You up to some visitors?”
Sam looked at him, eyes shadowed, a little stoned. “How ones?”
“It’s Coke and Dillon.” Beau bent and kissed Sam’s cheek. “Dillon wants to take Coke home. The old man is looking rough.”
“Are she okay?”
