A Case of You:Suncoast Society(8)

By: Tymber Dalton


Fuck.

He hated his body. Loathed it. He wasn’t even forty yet and felt like an old man.

This is ridiculous.

Not being able to work was killing him from the inside out. Not only because he felt like a mooch—regardless of what arguments Brandon and Stuart made to the contrary—but because he wasn’t used to being home all day and not being able to…do things. Vanilla things.

He couldn’t even go to the club with them on the weekends and do kinky things, at this point.

He got that Brandon and Stuart loved him—and yes, he was in this for life with them—except their love and assurances weren’t enough to overcome how he felt regardless of what logic told him. His entire adult life, he’d had a job. He’d worked first for his dad and the family drywall business, then he’d gone to school to become an auto repair technician.

I have to get a job.

Could he work on cars? Probably not. It was physically taxing and he fully realized he couldn’t stand on his feet all day in a service bay without air conditioning and not feel dead every night. He was going to start by calling the dealership he used to work for and see if they had any other openings. Not in sales, though. Parts counter or service writer, anything. Even if it was just part-time.

If they didn’t have any openings, he’d ask around and apply to other dealerships and auto parts stores.

Something so he could feel…human again.

Like he really contributed to their household.

He dreaded the doctor visit tomorrow. He suspected they were going to want to put in another PICC line.

That had been misery the last time. A necessary misery to help his health improve, but misery nonetheless.

Not only the line, and the restrictions it brought to his life, but the medications. Half the time he felt nauseous or crappier than if he just sucked it up and dealt with the symptoms of the Lyme disease.

The only thing that had helped short-term were Nate’s treatments, and using some essential oils Nate had recommended, taking them internally to help knock back the nausea so he could at least eat.

He’d already dropped nearly fifteen pounds from being sick.

It took him a moment, but he finally dragged himself out of bed and to the master bathroom. When he returned, he stopped by the bed and debated whether or not to go wake up Brandon and Stuart to come to bed with him, then decided not to.

They were probably asleep. Why ruin their night?

Moving carefully, he climbed into bed and wrapped himself around the pillow Brandon usually used, trying not to cry over how miserable and alone he felt.





Chapter Three




The smell of coffee brewing awakened Jeff Wednesday morning. Most likely Emma and Grace who’d started it, since they were always up before anyone else on the mornings Emma had swimming.

That meant it wouldn’t be too long before Brandon and Stuart were awake and moving. They’d have to get their showers and get dressed. They usually all showered in the master bathroom in the mornings.

Forcing himself to roll to his side and stretch, he finally reached the lamp on the closer of the two bedside tables and switched it on. Then he waited for the worst of the pain to abate enough he could continue.

Not as bad as the pain had felt yesterday morning, where just that much movement sent his back and shoulders into agonizing spasms, but still bad.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

On the other hand, that wasn’t exactly accurate or fair. He had two great guys who loved him, who he loved, and then there were Emma and Grace.

Plus he was going to be an uncle soon, courtesy of his younger sister, Iris, and her boyfriend, Calvin. They still hadn’t decided when or if they were going to get married, but they’d been living together for years.

He was slowly and painfully forcing himself up into a sitting position when the bedroom door opened. Stuart, seeing him, rushed over to help him.

“Why didn’t you call for help?”

“Because I didn’t want everyone in the house thinking I was dying. I just need to go to the bathroom.” He glared at Stuart. “Why did you guys sleep in the other room last night?”

Stuart blinked at his tone. “I’m sorry. We didn’t want to wake you up after you fell asleep.”

“Yeah, nothing makes a guy feel cared about like waking up alone in bed in the middle of the night.” He stumbled his way into the bathroom. “And I don’t need help taking a piss, either.” He slid the door closed on the toilet alcove and slumped down onto it after managing to get his shorts down.