All of a sudden he was so tired he couldn’t bear it, which was stupid, but there it was. He stood up, headed for the bedroom and quiet. He heard Petunia click-clacking along after him, her leash jingling. Bless her. Someone’s boot heels clicked, too, and he hoped to hell it was Beau.
“Poot?” Bingo.
“Yeah.” He glanced back, feeling like he was a colt about to bolt.
“Hey.” Beau bent to unclip Petunia’s leash. “You want to lie down, I’ll deal with the family. You keep that cap on and ‘Tunia can stay with you.”
“I just…I walk more time, huh? So loud.”
“I gotcha.” Beau smiled, all tired around the eyes. “The sheets are clean and all, and Granny got them pillow covers on.” Beau helped him fold down the covers, get sat down.
“Sorry.” He knew folks wanted to see him, but he couldn’t do this shit.
“Why? You been sick. They haven’t.” Beau surprised him with a hard kiss, not hurty, just firm. “Sleep. I’ll fix the noise.”
“You come down soon?” He could so nap with Beau in their own bed. In fact, the thought made his chest hurt a little.
“As soon as I get rid of everyone. Maman will take them down to her house.” Beau smiled, lips against his again, then disappeared.
Petunia whined, one big foot on the bed.
“I ain’t telling.” He patted the mattress and she galumphed on up, head on his hip. He settled, petting her soft-soft ears.
Home.
Home.
Home home home.
It had been a long damned ride, and he was so tired that he was nauseated, but he was home. That made it worth it.
He might’ve cried a little bit, but there wasn’t nobody but Petunia, who wasn’t saying nothin’ ‘bout it.
And when Beau slid in next to him, wearing soft shorts and nothing else? Well, that made it all perfect. That was when he could sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Six
What a fucking day.
What a Goddamned tiring fucking day.
The speech therapist had been in, and Sam had flatly refused to say a word. It had gotten to where Sam could talk pretty good if he stopped and thought, but the therapist wanted to work on spontaneous speech. Sam was having none of it.
Then there’d been the exercises. The pressure in Sam’s head was all but gone, and he was supposed to be doing light cardio and strength training now. They had all the machines and shit, but Sam wouldn’t wear the protective headgear.
That stubborn jaw would set, Sam’s eyes would flash, then the helmet would go sailing across the room.
So, Beau had tried real hard to be patient. He’d left Sam with Boudreaux and gone to make some supper. A quick jambalaya, maybe. When he’d gone back to the workout room, though, Sam was gone.
There was a note. “Gone to the barn.”
Beau was going to kill him. Dead. He’d had it. He was just gonna beat Sam bloody. He could see Sam’s skinny ass, half up on the ladder, reaching for God knew what in the loft.
Beau’s hands clenched into fists, and he resisted the urge to knock the ladder down. Hell, he didn’t even shout. “Sam? Could you come down a minute?”
Sammy grunted, but nodded. “Something put the enter sweet feed up tall.”
“No shit? Well, imagine that. I’m sure they didn’t think you’d be out here in the barn!” His voice rose with every step down Sam took. By the time those boots hit the floor he was shouting.
