He slid his phone over and squinted at it through bleary eyes. It wasn’t either of them; it was Peter.
How’s it going? Just checking in on you. Give me a call when you can, I miss your goofy accent.
Neil in rehab. Just got home. Call in 10?He wanted to calm down, start some laundry—normal stuff, or stuff that was maybe never going to feel normal again.
He grabbed all of Neil’s laundry out of the back seat, shoved the duffel over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs.
He hated this.
He hated laundry.
He hated how Neil was so mad.
He hated traffic.
He hated everyone and everything, and he needed a beer.
Sounds good!Peter’s text came back quickly. Maybe he didn’t hate Peter. Much.
He got one load of laundry started and sat down with his beer before dialing. “Peter. Man. I am about tired, me.”
“You sound wiped out. Have a beer. What’s going on?”
“Oh, sweets. Something’s wrong with Chou, something bigger than hurtin’ and rehab and all. He’s scairt, him. I can see it, and it worries me. I cain’t tell Master Doctor, because hims worried too bad, and… I’m so thinking something’s bad happening.”
“Scared? Like worried about his hip? He’s going to walk though, right? What do you think is happening?” Peter’s questions were fair, and his friend sounded worried now too.
“I don’t know.” Neil had whispered to him that he didn’t know if he was going to be able to go back to the force, but that was a secret. A heavy one.
“Oh, man. Hey, you actually can tell Master Isaac that Neil is scared. You know that, right? You should. This is really hard stuff, and you need to be honest.”
“I don’t know if it’s the right time.” His men were both under all this pressure, and he needed to ease them, not worry them.
He closed his eyes and took another sip of beer.
“Okay, but do you think that’s your call?”
“No, but I ain’t got a choice, do I? I can’t make it worse. I’m so damn tired, though. I just keep telling myself if I can just keep it together until we get him home.”
“Hm.” Peter sighed. “Maybe you should talk to Master Brandon? He might have some better advice.”
“Advice on what?” Alain heard Brandon’s voice in the background.
“Alain’s having a hard time.”
“What does he need? Can I have the phone? Hello? Alain. This is Master Brandon. What’s going on, pup?”
Oh fuck. “I—Oh, Peter shouldn’t ought to… I just…” He couldn’t breathe. Not like this. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m just real tired.”
“It’s not a bother; we’re family. Where’s Isaac?”
“Working. I’m fixin’ to start supper. I just got home from settlin’ Mr. Neil in at his rehab.” And he needed to stand up and get his shit together.
“What do you need, pup? You need some advice? About what? Neil?”
“I don’t want to tell no stories on anybody. I don’t know what to do, and I swear to god, Mister Brandon, I’m trying my hardest.” But he wasn’t quite holding it together.
“Of course you are, you’re a good boy. You love those men. I know you do. Is everything okay between the three of you? Do you feel safe?”