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  Ralph was just sick, watching this, watching them go through this. “Do you want to sit with us? As we go through the papers?”

  “If that’s what Brett wants.”

  “I just want it over.” Brett looked exhausted. “And I want a drink.”

  Ralph shook his head. “The drinking won’t help. At all. And I’d like us all to go into this with a positive attitude. You’ve been living with the headaches for years. They take this tumor out, and once the swelling goes down, you’ll be pain-free. It’s a good thing.”

  Benj held on to Brett’s hand. “As soon as you’ve had the surgery, you can concentrate on getting better.”

  Brett looked like he was going to argue, but didn’t. “Benj has my medical power of attorney. He’s on all the insurance policies, and the apartment in the city and the summer house down in the Keys have been transferred into his name.”

  “What? When did you do all that?”

  Ralph was nodding, though. Brett was preparing for the worst case and making sure things would be as easy as possible for Benj if things went wrong.

  “This morning. I told you, baby. I won’t leave you hurting for anything. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Then you remember that when you’re having the surgery, and you live for me, Brett. You come through it, because all the stuff in the world, all the money, none of that means anything if you aren’t there with me to share it.”

  “I intend to.” Brett winked at Benj. “I’ll have a bigassed bald spot and be a grumpy asshole. You may decide to off me yourself.”

  Benj tilted his head. “Well… aside from the bald spot, how is this going to be different than usual?”

  Brett chuckled, then popped Benj’s hip. “Butthead.”

  Ralph couldn’t help but smile. Every time he decided that Brett was absolutely fucking unbearable, the man would do something to prove he was human.

  “Do you need me for anything else? I can live without hearing all the gory details.” Benj looked up at Brett with adoration. The sweet man would do anything for Brett, Ralph was sure of it—absolutely anything.

  “Nope. I’ve still got to figure out if the club’s firing me and work out all the details. I want a BLT. You think you can sweet-talk Mr. Dark and Cajun into it for me?”

  Benj grinned. “I bet I can. And even if I can’t—that’s one I know how to make.” Brett got a solid kiss, and then Benj trotted off, appearing almost happy.

  Brett looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “Better?”

  Ralph nodded, refusing to feel bad. “Yes. Sit down. Let’s go over any other questions you have, and then we’ll make sure absolutely everything you want in order is in order.”

  “I still want a bottle of something eighty proof.” Brett sat. “Are they going to get rid of me?”

  “No booze. And I don’t know.” Ralph sighed and rubbed his face. “They’re going to wait until after the surgery. They’ve already paid for your stay here, so they’re willing to keep playing the waiting game as long as I tell them you’re working toward being a hundred percent again.”

  “Okay.” Brett chuckled, the sound bitter and harsh. “Fucking body.”

  “It’s a strong body, Brett. You’ve been putting up with pain from that tumor for years, and you’ve been playing professional ball while you were doing it. Think how nice it’ll be not to have the constant headaches.”

  “Yeah, if they don’t scramble my brains while they’re in there.”

  “I know that’s a danger, but you’ve got to know they know what they’re doing. Yours isn’t the first head they’ve cut into. Everyone wants you coming out of this better than you went in.”

  Brett nodded. “I wish I’d waited to go in. I could’ve had one more good season.”

  “And in the meantime, the tumor could have killed you. Besides, you could come back from this and have that season, Brett. If you rule that out right now, it’ll definitely never happen. Just don’t shut that door yet.” People might think it was hoodoo, but Jean’s belief in feeding the soul, in the power of positive thinking—it made a difference.

  Brett sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, man. What next?”

  “I’ll stack the forms we need to fill out here, and you can do that after we’ve gone through everything. DNR at the bottom. Next up—you say Benj already has medical power of attorney? Is it filed somewhere?”

  “My lawyer has it. Doug Ferris.”

  Ralph wrote down the name and had Brett add the phone number next to it. “Jean and I will be here for him, no matter what. We’re here for you and Benj, not the team, not anyone else. I assume Ferris also has all the paperwork for your assets?”

  “He does. He has my funeral arrangements, everything.”

  Ralph nodded. “There a bunch of preop forms to sign. Most of them say you and your heirs won’t sue if anything goes wrong.”

  “He can sue for malpractice anyway.”

  Ralph nodded. “I know, but they won’t do the operation if you don’t sign.”

  “Yeah.” Brett started signing, the tension in his shoulders getting worse and worse.

  “You’ve got the best people, Brett. Everyone is working to make sure you get the best outcome possible from this.”

  “Yeah.” The pen shook this time.

  “You know if you want to talk, I’m here, right?”

  “What is there to talk about?”

  “I know you’re not one to talk about your feelings and stuff, but talking can help, maybe you’ve got questions, fears, things you don’t get….”

  “You mean, how can I go from on the top of my game to having a surgeon in my brain and a bum shoulder? Do you have that answer?”

  Ralph shook his head. “No, I don’t. It’s not fair, Brett. I’ll be the first to tell you that. But life’s not fair—it just is.”

  “No shit. So, we’ve talked. Go us. Can we go work out yet?”

  “It’ll make you feel better to sweat, won’t it?” Ralph shook his head. “A very light workout, okay?”

  “I’ll be on the track.”

  “Brett. I mean it. No pushing today. No pushing until that thing is out of your head.”

  “I have to do something. I have to run.”

  “How about some swimming instead?”

  “How about we have a big fucking fight and beat the shit out of each other?”

  “It sounds like the perfect stress reliever to me, but I have a feeling if we go back to the house after that, two very pissed-off men will finish what we started.”

  “I can live with that.” The tension was pouring off Brett. Ralph could feel the waves.

  “Get out to the pool, man, before I change my mind and go with the shit-beating plan.”

  “Fuck you.” Brett slammed out of the room without another word, heading for the pool at a run.

  Ralph shook his head. Maybe he should have gone a few rounds with Brett. The man was so full of fear and anger. But if anything happened to Brett because of it, he’d never forgive himself.

  This whole thing sucked rocks.

  Still, he couldn’t help but think that at least they’d uncovered the root of Brett’s headaches, and there would never be a better time for him to undergo surgery and the aftermath than when he had Ralph and Jean to help.

  He didn’t think Brett was convinced, though.

  Chapter Eighteen

  JEAN WAITED for Benj to come back in from meeting with Brett and Ralph. Lord have mercy, there wasn’t a single thing right about this mess. Not one.

  He heard the sweet one’s footsteps running up the walk even before the door opened. He poured two cups of calming tea and waited. Someone was going to need a friend.

  Benj came in, looking lost. “Oh. Oh, Jean.”

  He just stood, opened his arms.

  Benj ran into them, a great sob breaking from him.

  “Hey, hey, cher. I got you, eh? I got you.” He rocked Benj, humming softly, letting the wee thing cry it out.

  Be
nj sobbed for a few minutes and then sniffed hard. “He signed a DNR.”

  “What on earth for?”

  Brett was young, healthy. That was ridiculous.

  “In case he has a stroke or something while they’re doing the operation. He said he doesn’t want to be a vegetable.” Benj looked absolutely miserable.

  “So you tell him, Benj. You tell him that’s giving up, yeah? You tell him to fight.” Stubborn men.

  “He said I’d support him. To Ralph. How was I supposed to argue with him?”

  “Then don’t argue in front of Ralph. Talk to him now. Tell him what you feel, cher.”

  Benj nodded and wiped at his eyes. “You don’t think I’m crazy for being upset, do you?”

  “Shit no.” Hell, Jean was devastated, and he didn’t like Brett. “You deserve a say, cher.”

  “I don’t want him to think I don’t support him. Because I do, Jean. I do. I just….” The tears started again, silent ones this time, flowing down Benj’s cheeks.

  “I want you to listen to me.” He sat them down, stared at Benj. “You have to remember this battle is mental, cher. He has to believe he’ll get better, and so do you. Y’all have to fight and fight, so fierce. This is serious hoodoo here.”

  Benj nodded. “He has to get better, Jean. I love him so much.”

  “Then you make him.” Jean thought this was Benj’s trial here, to learn to be strong for Brett, to push back and force his lover to live and thrive.

  Benj nodded slowly. “I’m so scared,” he said softly.

  That didn’t surprise Jean at all. “I’d be a little worried ’bout you if you weren’t.”

  Benj gave him a weak smile. “He’s always been the strong one. I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “I know you can. He’d do it for you, wouldn’t he?” Jean didn’t believe for a second that Benj couldn’t do this.

  “Of course he would!”

  “Well, then. You can too.”

  Benj nodded and began chewing on his lower lip. “Do you think I should go talk to him now or wait until he comes back?”

  “What does your gut say?”

  “I don’t know—it’s too busy churning. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I have since I found out.”

  “No tossing cookies. Come on. Have a cup of tea. It’ll fortify you.”

  “I’m not sure I can eat….”

  “So drink. Please. It’s good medicine.”

  Benj took the tea and sniffed it cautiously. “Oh, it smells nice.”

  “It tastes good too.” Drink it, little one. Drink it.

  Benj blew across the top of the teacup and then took a sip. “It is nice. Thank you.”

  “We won’t make y’all leave. You know that, yeah?”

  “Thank you so much, Jean. You don’t know how much that means.”

  “Oh, cher. Sure I do. Me and Ralph, we need folks too.” Hell, him and Ralph, they’d had rough times.

  “This tea is really nice, and it’s settling my stomach.”

  “It’s my grand-mère’s recipe. Guaranteed to work.”

  “Go Grand-Mère.”

  Benj reached out to touch Jean’s hand, and then he drank the rest of the tea.

  “I was thinking something wicked for supper. Steak?” He was planning on easier foods after the surgery, things that Brett could handle.

  “Oh, Brett loves a good steak.” Benj nodded, smiled. “Apple pie? With ice cream?”

  “Yes. Green beans or artichokes?”

  “Oh, I love artichokes. But green beans for Brett.”

  “You got it, cher. Anything you want.”

  “I don’t think you can give me what I want, Jean.”

  “No, but I can help you get it for yourself, eh?”

  “Yeah, everyone can help. He’s going to get well. He has to, because I won’t live without him.”

  “He’ll get well, and he’ll feel better.” Positive thinking.

  “Yes. No more headaches.” Benj laughed a little, and if there was a touch of hysteria in it, it was still a laugh.

  “That’s right. And they don’t think it’s cancer, right?”

  Benj shook his head. “No, just a tumor in his brain. Just.”

  “Yeah. A slow-growing thing that they’ll, God willing, take out in one piece.”

  Benj nodded. “I know I should be grateful that it isn’t cancer and that the prognosis is good, but I’m kind of fixed on brain tumor, surgery, possible side effects….”

  “Ralph read some. He’ll probably be a little unbalanced the first few days, especially if there’s swelling. He’ll have emotional outbursts, trouble reading. The pain will be rough the first day, but controllable, and then he should start to feel better.”

  “He’s not going to like the emotional outbursts thing at all.” Benj began fiddling with his teacup. “He’s old-school about things like that.”

  “I’ll give him space. Ralph… well, he’ll know when to back off and when to push.” At least Jean hoped so.

  “I think it’ll probably be best to ignore the emotional stuff as much as possible, you know?”

  Jean nodded. He thought so too. Those wouldn’t be real thoughts; more like Brett’s brain rewiring itself.

  “So we’re going to have a special meal tonight? What else can we do to make the next few days special?”

  “I think you ought to do things he’d like, but not overdo it. Don’t make this a last-meal situation, eh?”

  “Oh, I never even thought about it like that.” Benj started chewing on his lower lip again, worrying the flesh.

  “Stop.” Jean shook his head, smiled. “You have to believe that he will be fine, that it will be hard work, and he’ll be fine.”

  Suddenly, he stopped. The art supplies. They’d come, and Ralph had allotted an entire room to Brett’s “painting therapy.”

  “Cher, you should take your man and set up the studio.”

  Benj’s face lit up. “The stuff came?”

  “There’s a ton of it. Ralph did good.”

  “Oh, he’s going to be so pleased.” Benj clapped his hands. “I’m going to go get him, if you think Ralph won’t mind my interrupting their schedule.”

  “I think Ralph is going to be understanding, cher.”

  Hell, he knew Ralph.

  Ralph was scared.

  “Okay. I’m going to go now, then.” Benj bounced up and came over to give Jean a hug and a kiss. “Thank you!”

  He patted Benj’s back. “See you at supper, cher.”

  Benj headed out, looking so much happier than he’d been when he’d come in.

  Jean sat, took a sip of Grand-Mère’s tea. Hopefully, all this mess would work itself out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  BENJ HEADED toward the converted barn, but he heard someone in the pool as he passed it, so he hung a right and checked it out first. Brett liked the pool and spent a lot of time in it; they were lucky it was heated or he’d never be able to keep using it.

  Brett was there, doing one lap after another, pushing himself hard.

  Benj bit his lip, a little worried Brett was doing too much.

  He went to the edge, waited for Brett to come near, and then waved his arms. “Love! Brett!”

  Brett’s head popped up from the water. “Hey, baby. What’s up?”

  “I want to talk to you. And then I want to take you somewhere wonderful.”

  “Okay. Hand me a towel? My jailer’s gone up to the house.”

  Benj grabbed the towel and handed it over as Brett got out of the pool, skin dripping. “He’s not… your jailer.” Oh, look at that. Look at his Brett. “You’ve still got it,” he added.

  “Yeah? You still want?” Brett flexed for him.

  He made an appreciative noise that he didn’t have to fake at all. He wasn’t faking the way his cock twitched and began to slowly fill either.

  “I do. Very much.”

  “Good.” Brett leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth. “So, what did you want
to talk about?”

  Benj bit his lip but went ahead and plunged in. “This DNR thing. I don’t want you to sign it, Brett.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want you to fight. For your life, for me, for us. I want you to trust me to tell them to pull the plug if the worst happens, but I want you to fight with everything you have before that happens.”

  There. He’d said it.

  “You’ll do it, though? You’ll tell them to pull the plug if I’m fucked-up bad?”

  He nodded, blinking back tears that threatened. “I know you don’t want to live like that. You wouldn’t be you anymore, and I wouldn’t hold on to a shell of you. But that’s the last resort, love. The very last, after all heroic measures have been tried.”

  Brett started moving them toward the house, one arm around his shoulders. “It’s important to you, then?”

  He slid his own arm around Brett’s waist and held on tight. “Of course it is. You are… well, my life.”

  “I want what’s best for you, baby.”

  “Then you’ll fight and fight and get better.” He squeezed Brett’s waist as they went inside. “Promise me you’ll tear up the DNR.”

  “If that’s what you need, but I want your promise that you’ll do right by me.”

  “I will, Brett. I swear it. If I have to pull the plug, I will. I know I don’t seem so strong, but I can do that for you. But I need you to fight your hardest for me first.”

  They came to the house, and Brett pushed him back against a wall, staring down at him. “I always fight for you, baby. I always give it my all.”

  “Then you tear that DNR up and let the doctors help you if they have to—give you the tools to win that fight.” He slid his hands up around Brett’s shoulders and held on.

  Brett sighed. “I don’t think it’s the right decision, but if you’re that sure.”

  “I’m sure, love. I need this.”

  Brett pressed the softest kiss to Benj’s temple. “For you, baby.”

  “Good. And I’ll be strong for you, Brett. I swear it.”

  He tugged himself up so their mouths pressed together. “Now, come with me—I want to show you something.”