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The next hour is spent pulling cactus spines out of Tiller’s back and leg while he moans in pain about his stomach hurting. “Will you hold still?” I ask, sitting on his legs to keep him from moving. River’s right beside me, holding a wet towel to his face because he says he’s hot. “I can’t get these out if you keep moving.”
He doesn’t stop moving. To our left, Camden’s getting bandaged up by Shade. “It’s broke, Cam-Man. Want us to take you to the hospital?”
“Don’t be a pussy!” Tiller shouts at him, only to have River stick the cloth she’d been holding against Tiller’s head into his mouth.
“Shhh. Sleep.” I’m not sure if she’s trying to kill him or make him relax.
Camden shrugs. “I think I’ll be okay.”
Roan comes back downstairs, reaches for a handful of meat on the tray I’d been arranging before I had to play nurse, and stares at Camden. “Which hand ya spank it with dude?”
Camden’s brow furrows. “What does spank it mean? You mean spank someone?”
Tiller’s head raises off the floor, grinning, but then he looks at River. I know he’s thinking something dirty, but he doesn’t say it and flops his head back against the wood floor.
“No, I mean spanksomething,” Roan clarifies.
Camden stares at them like they’ve lost their minds. They have.
Shade and Roan both start laughing and attempt to explain in terms of not saying anything River and Berlin might repeat. They make the awful mistake of using hand gestures. For having been around the Sawyer brothers for the last three years, Camden is still awfully naïve. Sort of like I am. But he doesn’t get it when Roan takes a cucumber from the counter and strokes it.
Or maybe Camden does because he points to the cucumber, his cheeks red. “You mean like my penis?”
Shade raises his eyebrows. Roan laughs. Ricky picks Berlin up and takes her into the other room. Tiller groans, curling into himself.
“Seriously?” Camden shakes his head, finally understanding what they mean and slides off the stool with his ice pack and duct tape cast.
It’s in the midst of all this, Willa forgets the sweet potato casserole in the oven and burns the marshmallows on the top. Ricky comforts her. “Can’t be any worse than last year. At least we get to eat the turkey this year.”
“What happened last year?” I ask, standing up and leaving my moaning boyfriend on the floor in the kitchen.
“Roan stabbed Tiller,” Scarlet tells me, pouring herself another glass of wine. She offers one to Tiller, because he’s still moaning in pain, but he shakes his head, looking pale.
Roan chuckles, helping Willa pull the turkey out of the oven. “The knife slipped.”
“Bullshit, asshole,” Tiller yells, then curls into himself again.
River holds his head in her hands. “It okay. I save you.”
TWO HOURS LATER, dinner is served and even I’m drinking wine because Tiller is driving everyone completely crazy because he’s one, in pain, and two, refuses to take anything for it because of his addiction to pain killers he used to have.
“Dude, you hit your back on the cactus, not your junk,” Shade notes, looking down at the floor where he’s still lying. “Why are you holding your stomach like that?”
I peek under the table. He’s holding his right side, sweating and pale as a ghost.
This time he doesn’t tell us to fuck off or even speak. He just holds his side in a fetal position. River glances up at me. “He hot.”
I set my napkin on the table. “Is he?” Scooting out from the table, I crawl under the table to check on him. He is hot, like burning up and drenched in sweat. “Crap.”
And here’s where our unconventional Thanksgiving rings true. We spend the rest of the evening in the ER since Tiller’s appendix has ruptured and he needs emergency surgery to get it out.
Six hours later, he’s out of surgery, refusing pain killers, and lying in bed with River in his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want something to take the edge off?”
Do you see the distant look to his eyes and the slow, subtle shake of his head, his eyes heavy and bloodshot? He’s fighting it, but stubborn as always. River’s sound asleep on his chest and he pats the other side. “Come over here.”
I do. I’m not in the mood to argue with him because I did ignore his whining for long enough. Curling up next to him, he kisses my temple. “You’re enough.”
And that’s where it ends, for now, with three of us in a hospital bed. One sleeping, one in pain, and one irrevocably in love.