Joshua pulled himself to his feet. “Thank you,” he whispered, then turned and stumbled to the door.
When he entered the cabin, Colin was still sound asleep, his injured foot resting on a pillow. Joshua eased a blanket over him, then crawled into the bed beside him and positioned himself as close to the edge of the bed as possible, fearful of accidentally bumping Colin’s ankle.
Joshua felt utterly drained. He knew Colin would recover completely, yet the idea of Colin being incapacitated still chilled him.I have to stop being so codependent, he thought.It’s not fair to him.
He heard Colin murmur his name, then felt his arm wind around him and tug him back against his body. Colin pressed himself against Joshua, nuzzling the back of his neck. “Honey,” he murmured, trying to squirm away from Colin’s embrace. “Please don’t. I’m scared I’ll bump your foot.”
“Stay,” Colin’s voice was a cracked plea, raw with exhaustion. “I need you here. I need to feel you … to believe I’m home.”
Joshua fought back the tears that clawed at his throat, swallowing the nearly unbearable ache. He laid his hand over Colin’s as it rested against his heart, lacing their fingers together. “Youarehome, my beloved husband. And so am I. Please get some sleep, my darling boy. I’ll be right here beside you.”
Chapter 18
Heartbeats
Wednesday
When Joshua awoke the following morning, Colin was already up and in the bathroom. “Babe?” Joshua called out. “You OK?”
Colin opened the door and grinned at him. “I’m totally OK.” He scooped Joshua into his arms and kissed him several times, then jerked his thumb toward the shower. “I was just trying to figure out how to take a shower, then I need to get to the baseball diamond.”
“Much pain?”
“I took one of the pills the doctor gave me and it helped a lot.”
“Onlyone? You’re supposed to take two.”
Colin’s brows narrowed. “Josh, I’m taking the pills. That’s going to have to be enough. You know what two of those things would do to me.” He paused and stared hard at his husband, his brows arched as if challenging Joshua to respond.
Joshua stared back, his jaw tight. He wanted to argue, to insist Colin take the full dose. But he also knew his husband’s stubborn will. Pushing would only make Colin dig in his heels. He sighed and nodded, then opened his mouth to speak but a knock on the cabin door robbed him of the chance.
Colin maneuvered to the door, his movements quick despite the awkwardness of the scooter. He opened it to find a grinning Trent carrying a leg-shaped plastic contraption which he thrust at Colin. “Need a shower, coach?”
“What the hell…”
“It’s a waterproof cast covering. Pull it over your cast and you can shower without getting it wet.”
Colin took the covering from Trent’s hand and backed into the room. “Come on in, Trent. I’m sorry I missed baseball practice yesterday. Everything go OK?”
Trent glanced at Joshua, who was standing on the other side of the room, his expression gloomy. “Everything went fine.” He gave Colin a quizzical look, then tilted his head toward Joshua.
“Ah! He’s pissy because I’m only taking one of those narc bombs the doctor prescribed.”
“I’mnotpissy!” Joshua shot back.
“OK, OK,” Trent soothed. “Everybody’s a little tired and stressed out. We can’t have you two scrapping.” He turned to Joshua. “I know what the doctor gave him, Josh, and one of them should be plenty.”
“We’re not scrapping,” Joshua told him. He moved to Colin’s side and kissed his cheek. “OK, you stubborn Irishman, have it your way. I have counseling sessions to prepare.” He turned to Trent. “Can you help him get that thing on so he can shower?”
“You suggesting I might bedirty?” Colin teased, pretending to be offended before nuzzling against Joshua’s cheek. “I’ll stop by and grab you for breakfast after I’ve chiseled a pound of river mud out of my hair.”
Once the door shut behind Joshua, Trent showed Colin how to don the cast covering. “See? Easy-peasy. I’m headed back to set up for practice.” He patted Colin’s back. “See you at breakfast.”
Nate’s writingclass gathered around him at breakfast, all of the campers clutching the small notepads and pens he’d given them. He scanned their eager faces and asked, “Have you been writing down your observations? Your thoughts and feelings about what happens here at camp? Because that’s where great writing comes from: from inside you.”
“I have, Nate,” one of the boys responded, flipping open his notepad to reveal pages crowded with scribbled text.
Nate’s face lit up. “Perfect. Did any of you write down your feelings about Colin getting hurt?”
