A little while later, he shut his laptop with a bang. The report was done, but he wasn’t sure how coherent it was. After a while, the words had begun to blur on the page, and he’d had trouble remembering the language he was writing in.
He set the laptop aside and rubbed his chest. Every part of his body seemed to hurt, but the persistent ache in his chest bothered him most. More, even, than the jackhammer in his head. He pressed his fist to it, breathless, like he’d run round the lake, but without the rush of endorphins.
A sudden flash of light hurt his eyes. He glanced at the window. Lightning. Outside, a storm raged. He watched the rain lash the windows and the trees whip back and forth. It took him back to the last real storm, took him back to rolling over and pulling Max inside him, letting Max consume him in a way no other ever had.
Back then with Max, despite the heartache of saying good-bye to Paul, Jed had felt warm and loved. He’d felt safe. Now a brewing coil of anxiety took hold deep in the pit of his stomach, gnawing and biting until he was sure he could crawl out of his own skin.
Jed slid from the bed, disconnecting the fresh IVs that had appeared a few minutes after Max left for the night. He ignored the jolt of discomfort that shot through his body. It was a typical pain, the type he lived with every day, and not enough to stop him limping over to the window. He stared out at the storm. The black sky and turbulent wind matched his mood. He thought of the cabin, exposed and isolated, and his stomach churned. Max had lived there for years by himself, but Jed didn’t like the thought of him out there alone in this weather.
Dan muttered something in his sleep. Jed considered him. Dan was a creature of habit. If he’d been out drinking in Portland he’d have left his car at Carla’s place, and his keys in his right hand pocket.
Jed debated creeping over, lifting the keys, and making a bid for freedom. Dan slept like the dead. He’d never hear him coming, and even if he did, there were ways of keeping him quiet….
Whoa. Are you seriously considering thumping your best friend in his sleep? Dude, get a grip.
Jed tried, but even with Paul’s voice ribbing him from beyond the grave, it was hard. Unease clawed at him like a creeping vine, slithering over his skin and invading the rational part of his brain. He wasn’t a nervous person, never had been. If bad shit was going to happen, it would happen whether he worried about it or not, but in that moment the rush of irrational fear sweeping over him was borderline hysterical.
Damn it.
Jed laid his head on the windowpane. The glass was cool and calming, a balm to the liquid tar of the black mood seeping into his bones. He closed his eyes and willed the knot in his chest to dissipate. For a while, it worked, until he felt a hand on his arm.
“Jed?”
Dr. Howarth. Great.Jed let out a silent sigh and opened his eyes. “Making the 2:00 a.m. rounds?”
“Something like that. I like to check my patients are where they should be. Any chance of coercing you back to bed?”
Jed wanted to be a prick and say no, but he’d been on his feet a while, and the idea of lying down was appealing. He left the turbulent entertainment of the window and returned to his bed.
Dr. Howarth watched him with curious eyes. He didn’t seem to notice Dan snuffling like a pig in the chair. “How are you feeling tonight?”
Jed reconnected his IV tubes to the needles and leaned back on the cabin-scented pillow Belle had brought him from home the day before. “Same as ever.”
“Remind me,” Dr. Howarth countered. “Did you eat dinner?”
“Some.”
“That’s good. Any issues keeping it down?”
“A bit, but that was my….” Jed frowned. He’d lost his words. What the fuck? “I ate too much.”
“I see. Well, things seem to be coming together. I was talking with your partner yesterday. He was telling me about the produce you grow at home. It’s all good stuff, Jed. With a condition like yours, the little things count.”
Jed said nothing. Couldn’t. He heard the words, but they made no sense.
Dr. Howarth’s gaze flickered to the IV stand. “You seem a little tired. Do you want to try and sleep now?”
“Hmm?”
“Sleep,” Dr. Howarth repeated. “It’s late. I know nights can get a bit noisy in here, but you should take the opportunity to rest while you have nothing else to do. I know you’ll be out running up a storm as soon as I cut you loose.”
It seemed like the doctor was talking in riddles, but one word resonated in Jed’s foggy brain: sleep. He retrieved Max’s hoodie from the bedside table and zipped it up.
“Cold?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you cold?”