“You’re not getting out of going to the doctor, so don’t even try, asshole,” Chuck growled, gripping the steering wheel tightly in both hands. He pressed down on the gas pedal.
Slade felt pretty damned good by the time they arrived at the hospital. Chuck insisted on a wheelchair anyway. How embarrassing. Even worse, Slade stank. Really stank. People backed away as an orderly wheeled him down the hallway, his brother on his heels.
Blood pressure, needle sticks, endless questions. Chuck sneaking Slade a candy bar from the vending machine.
A doctor who appeared younger than most of Slade’s socks checked his temperature, heart rate, throat, eyes, ears, all with Chuck hovering in the background. “Mr. Slater, all tests came back normal, and we didn’t find a source for your bleeding. You say the symptoms are gone now?”
Slade mentally listed his symptoms: headache, body aches, stomachache from hell. Nope. Nothing. “Yeah.”
The doctor shook his head, pulling out his prescription pad. “I’m writing something for pain and your upset stomach. However, you need to see your family doctor next week for a follow-up, but if the symptoms return before then, get back here immediately.”
Chuck’s narrow-eyed gaze prompted Slade to promise, “I will.”
He handed the script for the stomach stuff to Chuck and quietly turned the one for painkillers into confetti. Oxycodone. Nope. Not going there ever again.
“Man, I can’t believe nothing’s wrong,” Chuck said on their way across the parking lot—Slade now walking on his own. “I mean, you looked nearly dead when I found you.”
Felt nearly dead too. Damn, Slade’s belly felt empty. Maybe he’d talk Chuck into grabbing some burgers before they went home.
The moment they passed the Brooks City Limit sign, pain body-slammed into him. Slade threw the truck door open and emptied his guts into the ditch.
The mark on his hand burned.
Chapter Five
Noahneverwenttotown alone. Always before, either Paul handled shopping while Noah worked, or he and Paul shopped for necessities together. Noah seldom spoke more than a few words to the local humans, keeping behind Paul. Local farmers explained what they wanted without small talk.
Stay away from humans.Paul’s number one rule.
Noah waited three weeks. No Paul. Man did not live by rabbit alone—time to work up some courage and go out into the world. Ten miles. Paul had helped Noah get his license. Though he didn’t drive much, he could do this.
All too soon, he found himself at the closest grocery store. For several moments, he sat in the truck, watching people go in. No one else thought twice about shopping. Letting out a heavy breath, Noah slid out of the truck, keeping his head low. Was everyone watching him? Wondering about Paul?
Noah entered the store, list in hand. A larger store two miles away offered lower prices—and more people. Better to pay a little more and avoid the crowds. Arriving in the early morning also helped him avoid people.
Noah lifted a hand at the smiling young woman behind the counter who greeted him. As quickly as possible, he loaded his cart with necessities unavailable from neighboring farms.
“Oh, excuse me!” Noah’s face heated. He’d nearly run into an attractive stocker, all copper hair and pale skin, who’d tried to start conversations in the past. Noah sometimes managed to mumble a few words back.
The man, not much older than Noah, smiled. “Oh, sweetie, you can hit me anytime.”
If possible, Noah’s face flamed hotter. “Wha… what do you mean?”
The man stepped closer, dropping the lid over one eye. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see you alone, without your pa.”
Pa? Oh, Paul. “He’s not…” Noah snapped his mouth shut. Oh, right. Paul claimed he and Noah were father and son. Fewer questions that way, he’d said.
“Overprotective?” the man supplied. “I beg to differ, my friend.” His green eyes twinkled. “Anyway, want to go out sometime? Dinner? Maybe a movie?”
What? Go somewhere with a human? Should he? Paul warned Noah off from humans, but the farmers Noah worked for never gave him trouble. The guy worked for a grocery store, not like Paul’s typical network of drug dealers.
The suggestion seemed harmless enough. A movie? Noah always wanted to see a movie. “I… don’t go out.” He’d heard of going out, read stories in the books Paul used to teach him to read, heard Paul’s tales of taking his wife out before their mating. She was a woman. This was a man. Did going out with a man mean the same thing: getting to know each other and winding up in bed?
“Maybe it’s time for a change. What do you say?” The stocker’s bright grin never faded.
“I thought men went out with women,” Noah blurted, unable to stop himself.
“Oh, you sheltered, innocent thing.” The man patted Noah’s arm. “You have a lot to learn. I’m Emmett, by the way. My friends call me Emmy. So, if you’re lucky, you get to take home an Emmy. Get it?” Emmett pointed to the “Emmett” store nametag pinned to his shirt.
