Page 160 of We Are Just Us

“Lime then.”

“You’ll hate the lime more than you hate cherry.”

“I hate everything right now.”

Kieran smiled and kept feeding him cherry Jell-O. And Rory kept eating it, complaining the whole time.

Each day, Rory got more alert. Slightly stronger. The fog of pain medication lifted gradually, revealing more of the person underneath. He made jokes. Asked questions about what happened. Got frustrated when his body wouldn’t do what he wanted it to.

But Kieran knew it was a long way to recovery.

The doctors had been clear about that. Months, minimum. Possibly longer. And no guarantees about how much function he’d get back.

But there were small victories.

By day four, Rory could wiggle his fingers. Just barely enough to make the physical therapist smile and say “That’s good. That’s really good.”

By day six, he could grip Kieran’s hand. Weak, but there. That squeeze Kieran had been waiting for.

And today, day seven, the doctors had given Rory the sign-off to be discharged.

With conditions, of course. Extensive daily physical therapy. Follow-up appointments. Restrictions on what he could do, how he could move. A whole list of instructions that made Kieran’s head spin.

But he could go home.

Now, nurses bustled around the room, gathering Rory’s things, going over discharge paperwork with Marlene, who was taking notes like this was the most important lecture she’d ever attended.

Kieran stood near the window, out of the way, watching.

One of the nurses, Jessica, who’d been on the day shift all week, turned to Rory.

“Okay, Mr. Kline. Let’s get you out of that gown and into real clothes. Sound good?”

Rory, sitting on the edge of the bed in his hospital gown and not much else, nodded. “Yeah. This thing is drafty as hell.”

“I know, honey. Okay, let us help you—”

“No,” Rory said quickly. Almost panicked. “No, I…” He took a breath. “You’ve already endured enough with my dumb ass this week. Please. He can help me.” He gestured toward Kieran. “He’s got it.”

The nurses exchanged glances. Jessica looked at Kieran, assessing.

“You comfortable with that?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kieran said, stepping forward. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay. We’ll be right outside if you need help. Just call.”

They left, pulling the door mostly closed behind them.

And then it was just Kieran and Rory.

The room went suddenly quieter. More intimate.

“You don’t have to,” Rory said. His voice was still rough from the intubation, but getting better. “If it’s weird or—”

“It’s not weird,” Kieran interrupted. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

Rory nodded.