Page 44 of If Cain Were Able

“That’s tragic,” I tell him, placing the plate of warm food in his lap, surprised by how much I mean it.

I’m even more surprised when he agrees.

“Yeah, I suppose it’s starting to get old. Maybe that’s part of why I wanted you to stay.”

He’s delirious with exhaustion. That’s got to be it. Cain Rosemont doesn’t give in to silly human responses like fatigue, stress, or loneliness.

“Thank you for this,” he adds at the end.

“Your chef prepared it. I just heated it up,” I explain, unsure what to do with this version of Cain. “How was the hospital?”

“A clusterfuck of epic proportions. I’m sorry you were here alone all day.”

Without thinking, I reach over and place the back of my hand on his forehead.

“Holy shit, I think you need a doctor. You just apologized,” I tease.

“Good thing I am a doctor. And what I need is to eat, take a shower, and fall asleep for about eighteen hours.” Looking over at me grimaces. “I know it’s not that exciting a weekend, but any chance you want to spend it in bed with me?”

My smile is genuine when I answer, giving him the truth.

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more.”

“Patrick, can you pass the rolls?” Damon asks from across the table.

It’s been six weeks since my assignment in Boston ended. I managed to make sure the surgeons weren’t going to burn the building down, but that’s about it. Ultimately, the administration had already made their plan and signed the paperwork. There was no middle ground to be found.

I pass the basket to my son-in-law with a smile, thankful that there’s no longer any awkwardness between us, and no more pangs of loss when I see Damon’s face.

“Have you heard from Cain today?” Liam asks, heavily invested in my and Cain’s budding friendship.

“No, but he’s operating today, so I imagine it’ll be late when he calls,” I tell my son.

“Have you guys DTR’d yet?”

“Have we what?” I ask in alarm, not ready nor willing to discuss my sex life with Liam.

Damon laughs.

“It means ‘defined the relationship,’” he says, translating the unfamiliar slang.

“Oh. Uh, no. Cain doesn’t really do relationships. I’m just glad to have reconnected with an old friend,” I lie.

“Hmhm-bullshit,” Liam coughs into his hand with a smile.

Cain has stayed in my life through texts, calls, and FaceTime, and we talk just about every day. Cain is still Cain, however, so it’s a lot of phone sex, but sometimes he just needs to vent about his day. Sometimes, he just props the phone up while he eats, but it’s the healthiest relationship we’ve ever had.

As if conjuring him with our conversation, my phone rings. A Boston area code appears on the screen, but I don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Is this Patrick Miller?” The familiar voice of Dan Rutledge fills my ears.

“Hello, Dan. Nice to hear from you again.”

“I’m sorry?” he says, confusion and frustration painting his tone.

“I was the team leader with the arbitration group hired after the merger. I assumed that’s why you were calling?” I say, pushing back from the kitchen table, not wanting to bore Damon and Li with work.