AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mmhmm.”
Jeremy and Preston are waiting for me with arms crossed, both wearing stern expressions. It’s kind of scary how much Jeremy is starting to look like Preston.
“What?” I hit the button for the elevator, but neither of them says anything until we’re out of the hospital and I’ve been locked in a car with them.
“You’re fucking married?!” Jeremy finally snaps and yells, making the Uber driver jump and swerve a little. “Sorry.”
Oh.
Shit.
“Uh. Yeah.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but I know Jeremy is not going to let this go easily. I’m not embarrassed about being married to Paul, but I don’t know how he’ll react to Jeremy and Preston knowing. We agreed to keep it quiet until he was ready.
Now I have a healthy dose of guilt heaped on top of everything else.
I lean my head back on the headrest and sigh. I’m so fucking tired. Today has sucked, and all I want is to be wrapped around Paul in bed, watching TV until I pass out, but I can’t. I have to just fucking manage.
We stop at the pharmacy on the way back to campus to pick up the pain meds the doctor prescribed, then finally go back to the dorms. I’m running on empty by the time my feet hit the hallway of the third floor, and I have to force myself to keep moving. Jeremy puts a hand on my back, and for once, Preston doesn’t growl. They make sure I get inside and help me get my suit hung up, apparently Preston has athingabout suits, then I’m allowed to go to bed. I take a pill and lie down on Paul’s pillow, needing any part of him I can get, but I don’t sleep. Not until the pain pill kicks in and forces my eyes closed.
35
Paul
Get. Me. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here.
While I’ve been allowed to get up and move around and take a piss on my own, I’m going stir-crazy. I’ve been on the go for years. Between school and hockey, I’m only still if I’m injured or sick. Hospital beds suck ass, the food is bland, and it doesn’t have Brendon.
Watching my team play on the TV sucks too. I want to at least sit in the stands and cheer for my team. I want to be there in the locker room after the game to celebrate the win or console them after a loss. No athlete was made to sit in a hospital bed while their team plays.
My abdomen is sore, the three little puncture wounds from the surgery are glued shut and bruised, but I feel a lot better than I did before the surgery. I have to be careful moving around for a while, I get that, but I want out of here.
The doctor comes in finally, looks at the surgery site, and tells me I can go home.
Picking up the phone, I dial the only other number I have memorized besides my grandparents’—Brendon.
“Oiler’s Pizzeria and Crematorium, our ovens are always on.” There’s noise in the background that sounds like he may be at breakfast.
I chuckle and have to put a hand on my stomach when the muscles pull.
“You’re an idiot.”
“P Dawg!” His shout is so loud I have to pull the receiver away from my ear. “It liiiiiiiives! Bwahahaha!”
In the background is a chorus of “Paul” and “Johnson,” and it makes me smile.
“Your evil laugh needs some work, my guy.”
Brendon must turn the phone away from his mouth or covers the speaker because I can’t hear what he says, but when he comes back, it's quieter.
“Hey, husband.” His voice is softer this time. It’s intimate and quiet. The tone warms my heart. Seeing him last night was exactly what I needed, and he obviously needed it too since he was a mess. That’s it. I can’t hide him anymore. From the moment I opened my eyes after surgery, I’ve only wanted him with me. It’s killing me not to be with him. I’m done hiding.
“Hello, husband.” I close my eyes and picture him in my mind. “Come get me?”
“Seriously?! They’re letting you out?” I can feel his excitement through the phone. It’s so pure, almost childlike, and it’s infectious. I love that he still gets excited over things, doesn’t try to be cool or fit in. He wasn’t meant to fit in.
“Yeah, come get me, baby.”
He moans, and I wish I could see his face. “I love when you call me that.”
