Page 23 of A Case of You

He shrugged. “Emma and Tracey will be here. And they showed up for the wedding, so they can’t claim they’re totally boycotting us without sounding like assholes. If they want to see their granddaughter on Thanksgiving, I guess they’ll have to show up, won’t they?” He smiled.

It was the playful smile of the Master Stuart knew and loved and respected.

And feared, just a wee tiny bit.

They heard a muffled shout from Emma and what sounded like the front door slamming shut.

They stared at each other and burst out laughing again. They were just getting themselves under control when they heard the bathroom door open.

Stuart stuck his head through the shower curtain and saw Jeff staggering toward the toilet alcove. “Hey, buddy. Hurricane Emma wake you up?”

“Was that what it was?”

“Yeah. She overslept. Come join us.” He’d have to get out shortly, but it would be good to spend at least a minute or two with Jeff and Brandon.

Lately, getting all three of them alone, vertical, and conscious at the same time was difficult.

When Jeff finished his business, he stepped into the shower with them. They shifted position so Jeff stood between them, their arms around him, his head resting against Brandon’s shoulder as Jeff stood under the water.

“Good morning, buddy,” Brandon said.

“Good morning, Master.”

“How you feeling?”

“Groggy as hell. Do I have to take the Xanax again?”

“Just for a couple of days, please?”

“I don’t like feeling like this.”

“How’s your pain level this morning?”

He seemed to be taking inventory. “Not as bad as yesterday.”

“Okay, here’s the deal. You promise to make and eat a good breakfast. Then take your meds—including a Xanax—and spend the day on the couch or in bed. If you do that, we’ll talk tomorrow morning about you not taking one, depending on how your pain levels are.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Wow,” Stuart said. “He’s not arguing. Now I know he still feels like crap.”

* * * *

Brandon could tell from the deep lines at the edges of Jeff’s eyes that he felt like crap.

But if he was improving a little, that meant Brandon was doing the right thing to force him to stay still for another day, at least. Jeff might hate the Xanax, but if it knocked him out and made him sleep, that would help his body heal.

“Later this afternoon, start working on the Thanksgiving Day menu, please?” Brandon asked him. “If you feel up to it.”

Jeff looked up at him. “That’s weird.”

“What?”

“I was dreaming about Thanksgiving just before I woke up.”

Brandon couldn’t help it. He and Stuart both burst out laughing, made even funnier by Jeff’s confusion.

“What? What’s so funny?”