He was still agitated when he got home, and he spent the day putting together the structure for a rustic desk. Jed did most of his work at the kitchen table, and sometimes the living room floor, but Max figured he might like a table by the window.
His mind wandered as he worked. He’d taken Jed some mail at the beginning of the week, and ever since then, Jed had been engrossed in something on his laptop. Max did his best not to peek, but even when he did, he found Jed was typing in a language he didn’t even recognize, much less understand.
Jed’s preoccupation with anything other than his own recovery made Max wish he’d left the mail at home, but Jed’s persistent low iron levels had led the blood specialist, who Dr. Howarth had consulted, to extend Jed’s stay by a couple of days, and Max didn’t quite have the nerve to ignore the thick, ominous-looking envelope that had arrived a few days before.
Six o’clock caught Max by surprise. He took the bus back to Portland and found Jed shuffling around his hospital room in a foul mood.
Max hovered in the doorway, watching as Jed launched something at the trash can, closed the door of the bedside cabinet with his foot, then kicked it again for good measure. “What did that cabinet do to you?”
Jed shot him a withering glare. “It’s no wonder they don’t know their ass from their elbow when they leave shit lying around all the time.”
“Who?”
“What?”
Max blinked first. “Never mind.” He looked Jed over, trying to be subtle. Something was different… something was off. “Where’s your IV?”
“I took it out.”
Jed stopped pacing and hoisted himself onto the bed. The motion seemed stilted. Satisfied Jed wasn’t going to throw something at him, Max ventured further into the room. “You took it out? Why?”
“I don’t want that crap in me, and it was fucking empty anyway.”
“They didn’t change it?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.” Max tried to acclimatize to Jed’s belligerent mood. He considered asking why he hadn’t told a nurse the IV was empty, but something in Jed’s manner warned him off. “I brought you some dinner. Are you hungry?”
“No, thanks.”
“Headache?”
Jed dropped his hand from his temple. “No.”
Max sighed. Jed got grouchy at home too, but around the cabin they had miles of space to skirt around each other. In the hospital they had nowhere to go.
Max considered his options while Jed stared mutinously out of the window. Max figured he had two choices: cut his losses and come back tomorrow, or stay and take whatever flak Jed chucked his way.
The decision was a no-brainer.
He crossed the room and put his hands on Jed’s shoulders. Jed seemed to let his legs fall open to draw him closer without much conscious thought.
“Bad day?” Max said.
Jed let out a defeated huff of air. “Just long. I feel like a bug in a box.”
He rested his forehead on Max’s chest. Max wrapped his arms around him, sure he could feel Jed’s heart hammering through his skin. Maybe he could. They hadn’t touched much in the past week or so, and it felt like they’d gone back to the start.
“I’m sorry,” Jed said after a while.
“What for?”
“Being an ass?”
Max could forgive Jed anything when he was leaning on him the way he was then. “Don’t worry about it. You can show me how sorry you are when I get you home.”
“Oh yeah? What if I’m real fucking sorry?”