Page 112 of The Understatement of the Year

He put a heavy palm on my cheek. “Love you, too, Rik.” The sentiment just rolled off his sleepy tongue. Then he let out a colossal yawn. “What time is it?”

“Three? Four?” I yawned, too.

“How is she?”

“Woke up. She sounds awful, but she’sthere, you know?”

“Thank God.” His arms came around to squeeze me. “When I picked up that phone today, and Skippy told me what happened, I panicked.”

I tucked my body even closer to his, my mouth just beside his ear, so we could talk quietly. It was so still here. That’s how Vermont always sounded at night — quiet enough to hear your own thoughts. “That part of the day is hazy for me,” I admitted. “Thank you for getting me up to Burlington.”

“It’s hazy for you,” he repeated.

“Yeah. I was freaking.”

For a minute he didn’t say anything. He just nuzzled my neck. “I don’t think the team will forget it anytime soon.”

“What do you mean?”

Graham kissed my jaw a few times before he answered. “I don’t have to agonize over staying in the closet anymore.”

“What?” I pulled back so I could see his face.

But Graham’s eyes were closed, and his face was serene. “Just didn’t have time for the cover-up today. I kind of let it all hang out. Forme,anyway.”

I traced back in my mind to try to figure out what he meant. “In the locker room?” It hadn’t been my sharpest hour, but I didn’t remember any words exchanged, other than Graham asking to borrow a car. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

He gave a sleepy, half-shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t care anymore.” He tugged me back down onto his body. “Middle of the night, Rik. I’m only good for sleep or sex.”

Smiling, I rubbed up against him. “I guess it would be rude to fuck on Skippy’s sofa bed.”

“Sofa might not survive it,” Graham mumbled.

“Good point.” I pulled up the blanket and lay down in Graham’s arms. Sleep clobbered me immediately, and I was out.

* * *

I woke up the next morning to the sound of Ross making coffee about ten feet away in their little kitchen. Graham’s big thigh was practically wedged into my ass, and I was clinging to the edge of the bed. I was either going to have to become a more assertive sleeper, or share only king-sized beds with him. With both my feet, I shoved his leg out of the way.

“Unnrgh,” he said.

“So true,” I agreed. And Ross laughed over the burble of the coffee maker.

Skippy came barreling out of the bedroom a few minutes later, and began organizing us in his Skiptastic way. “Graham can shower while you call your uncle,” he ordered. “Let me find a couple of Ross’s t-shirts for both of you.”

I gave Ross an apologetic look, and he just shrugged, sticking a piece of toast in his mouth.

“…Ross and I have class later this morning, but I want to run into the hospital with you, so I can report back to Mom. Now come over here and eat something quick.”

Graham and I let Skippy march us around. As a result, thirty minutes later we were both more refreshed and better fed than would have otherwise been possible.

Ross tucked their little poodle into its duffel bag and put it over his shoulder. Then we all went outside to walk to the hospital together.

On the way into the building, Graham took my hand and gave it a squeeze. Oddly enough, he didn’t let it go. We all approached the information desk together, where I learned that Gran had been transferred from the ICU to a regular room on the fourth floor.

“It’s good news that they moved her, right?” I asked as all four of us waited for the elevator.

“It’s awesome,” Skippy agreed.