With the last angry words they’d shared echoing in his head, it was hard to know if Jed would want him here at all.
“Max?”
He spun around to find Kim behind him, her eyes wide and her face drawn with worry. “Max, I need to talk to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
JEDFELThimself come awake, slowed down by murky narcotics. His blood felt sluggish, his limbs heavy, but the twisting spasm in his stomach was sharp enough to keep his eyes closed.
He let his other senses take over, absorbing the potent, chemical smell of the hospital, and the irritating beep of a heart-rate monitor. Closer to home, his arms itched, and he felt sticky plastic on his face, blasting cool air into his lungs. Oxygen and IVs.
Great.
It didn’t look good, and he didn’t feel good either. In fact, he felt like death. Dizzying sickness rolled through him, but beyond that, something else caught his attention—a low melodic hum, and the distinct, soothing sensation of someone holding his hand.
Max.
Jed opened his eyes. Max was perched on the side of his bed, a large book in his lap, humming a song Jed didn’t know and swaying to his own tune the way only he could.
“Dire Straits again?”
Jed’s voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in a week, but Max didn’t miss a beat. He squeezed Jed’s hand and turned a page. “Fairport Convention. Hospitals bring out my folksy side.”
Jed started to roll his eyes, but then thought better of it. He squinted at the book keeping Max from looking at him. As a rule, Max didn’t care for books. The concentration required to read them was sometimes beyond him. Not today, though. “What are you reading?”
Max held up his book for Jed to read:Gastroparesis—My Personal Journey.
“Really?”
Max finally met Jed’s gaze. “Yes, really. I tried to Google gastroparesis on Dan’s phone, but I couldn’t spell it. Carla gave me this.”
“Enjoying it?”
Jed winced at the harsh sarcasm in his tone, but Max didn’t flinch. “No, but some of it is beginning to make sense.”
“Oh yeah?”
Max closed the book and set it aside, still loosely holding Jed’s hand. “Yeah. I’m trying to understand why this happened, and I think I have a theory.”
“You do?”
“Maybe. You spent your whole childhood looking after Nick, and you were a leader in the Army too, right?” He leaned over the bed and peered closely at Jed. “You’re always looking after people. I don’t think it ever occurs to you to look after yourself.”
“Nice theory.”
Max stared hard at him for moment, then sat up, breaking the strange spell between them. “Yeah, well, I’m working on it. We can talk about it later. Rumor has it you’re going to be here a while.”
“What?” Jed moved to sit up. The room darkened, like his head had dropped off the face of the earth and left his body behind.
Max eased him back down with gentle hands. “Take it easy, buster. Apparently you’ve got some moody blood, and you have to stay here until it’s fixed.”
Jed didn’t respond well to being restrained, even by Max, but the door opened before he could find the equilibrium to struggle and Dr. Howarth appeared in the doorway, his face stern and disapproving.
Max started to slide from the bed. Jed shifted painfully and caught his elbow. “Don’t go.”
“Um….” Max bit his lip, and Jed felt his heart break. How could he have ever been so angry with him… how could he ever believe Max’s reticence was malicious?
Good to the bone….