Max processed his answer slowly before he seemed satisfied enough to close his eyes.
Jed stepped toward the door. Flo blocked his path. He patted her head. “Easy, girl. I’m coming back.”
She whined, but didn’t follow him as he crossed the yard to secure the boat shed. When he came back, he hesitated at his bedroom door. Max appeared to be sleeping, and it seemed safe to retreat to the couch and trust Flo to call him if anything happened.
Yeah, right.
With a rueful sigh, Jed limped across the room, paying for his overexertion, and sat on the edge of the bed. He’d never seen Max sleep before, never seen him so still and quiet. Even chilling on the couch, he was always in motion—a jittery leg, a tapping finger. But not now. Now he was sound asleep, and Jed was mesmerized.
Chapter Eleven
MAXFELTlike he was swimming through cold wet sand. Every part of him hurt, like he was thawing out from being frozen. He shuddered, a whole body shiver from the top of his head to his toes, and a swoosh of air left his chest.
Panic and fatigue warred with one another. Fatigue seemed to be winning.
Through the fog, he felt a presence beside him—warmth and a familiar voice. He couldn’t make out the voice, but he crawled toward the warmth, chasing it and hiding his face in it. A blanket of peace washed over him, and the persistent tremor in his brain finally stilled.
It was still dark when he woke next. First he became aware of the crumpled sheets leaving imprints in his exposed skin, then the comforter draped over him. It was a few minutes before the clean-scented mass he’d mashed his face against made itself known as a warm, cloth-covered body.
Jed?
Max raised his head, startled, and found Jed’s gaze. A ripple of humiliation crept over him, coupled with relief that he wasn’t alone. He’d suffered more seizures than he cared to remember, but the sensation of his brain turning somersaults in his head still scared the crap out of him. Even safe in bed with Flo close by. Even safe in bed withJed.
A jolt of fear swept over him, jarring his sore and exhausted body. Jed cupped Max’s chin in one hand, touching the rough pads of his fingers to his neck as he scrutinized him with intense green eyes.
Looking for signs of madness, no doubt.
Max’s head throbbed with the effort, but he stubbornly held Jed’s gaze until the other man seemed satisfied with what he saw.
Jed dropped his hands. Max felt cold without his touch. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure he trusted his swollen tongue yet.
Perhaps sensing his predicament, Jed gently tugged on his shoulders and eased him back down so he was lying on his side with his head on Jed’s chest. “Easy now, it’s okay. Rest.”
In his mind, Max hesitated, though his body had already curled into Jed. “Don’t want… hurt you.”
“You won’t. You’re on my good side.”
Reassured, Max allowed himself to drift into the hazy world he was often stuck in postseizure. With his eyes fixed open, he wasn’t asleep, but he wasn’t quite awake either.
Instead he lay very still, lulled by the steady beat of Jed’s heart, and tried to gather his wits. His mind felt fragmented. It was early, not yet dawn, but the last thing he remembered was cooking dinner. He couldn’t recall eating and hedefinitelydidn’t remember coming to bed. And though he was inordinately grateful for his presence, Max couldn’t figure out how Jed had ended up in his bed. In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing Jed at all the previous day.
The effort of speculating made his head hurt, and he gave in to exhaustion. The world around him began to fade out until something clicked in his faulty brain. “Oh shit. This is your bed, isn’t it?”
Despite the labored cadence of Max’s speech, Jed chuckled. The sound rumbled through his chest, smooth and warm. “It was your bed first. Least that’s what Flo told me.”
Max flexed his stiff neck and glanced at Flo. “I need to let her out.”
Jed restrained him. “She’s been out, Max. She even watched over you while I fed those damn chickens. Lie down and rest now.”
It was all too easy to obey. Max lay down and settled his head back on Jed’s warm chest. Jed pulled the covers over his shoulders and wrapped a strong arm around him. The gesture was so comforting, Max wanted to cry. He was often overemotional after seizures—hyper, angry, or tearful—but in the dark room, nestled into Jed’s side, all he felt was an overwhelming need not to be on his own.
LATERTHATday, Max woke up properly to find Jed wide awake beside him. He forced his body upright. Jed steadied him as he got shakily to his feet, but didn’t protest when Max shrugged him away and drifted off to use the bathroom.
Max washed up, brushed his teeth, and retreated to his own room to change his clothes. Once dressed, he eyed the mud-splattered T-shirt he appeared to have slept in. Coupled with the fact that he’d somehow ended up in Jed’s bed, it wasn’t looking good for his dignity.
With a weary sigh, he bent to scoop up the offending dirty clothes. The change in equilibrium threw him. He lurched forward, suddenly disoriented, but like magic, Jed was there.
He settled Max on the edge of his bed and stepped back. “You should eat something. Are you, uh, hungry?”