Chapter Eight

A DEEP VOICEcalled out gently, “Dylan, can you wake up for us?”

Gradually, he emerged from the haze of anesthesia and opened his eyes. A face pinched with worry replaced the voice.

“What are you doing here?” he croaked.

Ryan gently placed a straw at his lips, trying to keep Dylan still by placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Drink some water and stay still.”

He drank, looking up at Ryan’s face, which was clouded with concern.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain? Do you need the nurse?” Ryan’s words tumbled over themselves as he waved for someone out of Dylan’s vision. A nurse appeared at his side. “Are you sure he’s not in any pain?” Ryan asked.

Dylan lifted his hand, which still felt like it was filled with sand, and pushed the cup away from his lips. “I’m fine. I just need a minute. The anesthesia….”

“He’s okay, Mr. Blackstone. This is normal after surgery.” The nurse peered down at Dylan with a friendly smile. “You did great, Dylan. You’ll be able to go home in a few hours, okay? If you start to feel any pain or discomfort, you let us know.” She pointed to the call button on the side of the bed and left.

As soon as they were alone, Ryan pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and clasped Dylan’s hand in his. “Thank you,” he said in a gruff voice. He shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thank you so much.”

His hands were warm and soft, and Dylan was too weak to pull out of his grasp, nor did he want to. Ryan’s heightened emotions were too much. Suddenly, Dylan felt overwhelmed by his own. He closed his eyes, swallowing, trying to get a grasp on his feelings.

“I need to call Kevin and Carl and let them know you’re awake,” Ryan said.

“You told them?” Dylan gasped.

“Yes, of course.” Ryan frowned at him. “They were understandably upset you didn’t say anything to them.”

“I didn’t want them to worry,” Dylan mumbled. The anesthesia was doing its best to pull him back to sleep again.

“Here.” Ryan held the phone for him. If his mind wasn’t so fuzzy, Dylan would have questioned why Ryan had their number in his phone.

Kevin answered on the first ring. “Ryan, how’s he doing?”

“Dylan’s awake now. I’m putting him on speaker.”

“Hi, sweetheart. Carl’s here too. How are you doing, kiddo?”

“I’m okay. A little fuzzy trying to wake up. They said everything went well.”

“Honey, I’m so proud of you,” Carl said in a teary voice. “But honey, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Didn’t want to burden you….” Dylan’s voice drifted off.

“It’s okay. Rest and we’ll check on you later, okay?” Kevin said.

Dylan nodded, his eyelids growing heavy. He felt the phone slip out of his hand as his eyes closed. He heard Ryan quietly reassuring his dads he was okay.

“Dylan,” a voice called out. He opened his eyes, and there was Ryan again. He wrinkled his forehead. Hadn’t he been talking to Kevin and Carl? Dylan struggled to sit up, wincing at the ache in his back as he tried to look around and get his bearings.

Ryan was at his side in a flash, his arm around his shoulders to support him. “Hey, take it easy. You’re okay. We’re still at the hospital. You fell asleep again.” Ryan gave him another sip of water and adjusted the bed so he could sit up. “How is your pain level?”

Dylan took a breath and assessed how he was feeling. “I’m sore, that’s all. It’s not too bad.”

“The doctor said that was to be expected, but I don’t want you in any pain. If you need more medication, let me know. I have your prescriptions ready, but if you need something before we leave the hospital, I can—”

“Ryan, it’s fine,” he exhaled.

A different nurse came in, bustling around his bed, taking the pulse oximeter off his hand. He stared down at the small bandage where his IV had been. She turned to Ryan. “If you’ll give us a minute, I’ll finish getting Mr. McKenzie ready to go home.”

Ryan hesitated, looking at Dylan with a worried expression before stepping into the hallway.

“He hasn’t left your side since you came out of surgery. He insisted on holding your hand as we wheeled you down the hall to your room,” she said as she went about removing the catheter and helping Dylan sit up. “He certainly is devoted to you. It always warms my heart when I see someone so in love with their partner.”

“He’s not my partner.”

“Well, however you want to define your relationship, I hope I can find someone someday who looks at me the way he looks at you.”

With the nurse’s help, he put on the sweats he had brought to wear after the surgery. The moment she called out that Dylan was ready, Ryan was by his side, wrapping his arm around his waist to support him as he stood up.

An attendant came in with a wheelchair, and Ryan gently lowered him into it and then dropped to his knee to arrange his feet on the footrests. Ryan stayed glued to his side, giving him anxious looks as the attendant wheeled him out. He kept a firm grip on Dylan’s hand as he helped him into the car and leaned across him to buckle him in. He paused as he pulled back and they were face-to-face, their lips a hair’s breadth apart.

Ryan’s breath hitched, and his eyes darkened. “Let’s get you home,” he murmured.

Dylan swallowed and closed his eyes, nodding.

Ryan asked a hundred times between the hospital and home if he was okay. He cursed at every bump on the road that might cause discomfort to Dylan. He meant well, but the attentiveness was too much. Dylan wasn’t used to this kind of devotion. Ryan put care and concern in every touch and glance. It created emotions in Dylan that spread over him like the lapping waves of the lake and threatened to pull him under.

When they arrived at the house, Dylan didn’t even have time to reach for his door before Ryan was at his side.

“I got it,” he growled when Ryan reached for the seat belt again.

The ache in his back had intensified during the journey home, and all he wanted now was to crawl into bed.

Ryan gently steered him inside, up the stairs, and to his room. Dylan stopped short in the doorway and looked at him in surprise.

“I thought this would be more comfortable for you,” he said as he gestured to the new adjustable bed.

Dylan could only nod. He shuffled to the bed, wincing as he got under the covers. Again, Ryan was right there, hovering at his side. He handed Dylan the remote control for the bed. “I’ll give you a minute to get comfortable.”

Dylan nodded again. It was too much. He didn’t want someone taking care of him. Ryan hesitated for a moment, reaching out as he gently brushed his hand across the furrows on Dylan’s forehead. “I’ll check in on you in a little while.”

“Okay,” Dylan said, swallowing back tears.

When Ryan left, Dylan leaned back with a sigh. Ryan should be at the hospital with Leo, not here with him. He was the donor, nothing else. Leo was what mattered.

Ryan returned with a tray. The smell of chicken soup wafted toward him, and his favorite tea, Earl Grey, with sugar and milk. Ryan set the tray on the nightstand and perched on the side of the bed. “You’re in pain, but I need to get some food in you first so the meds don’t upset your stomach.” He held out the tea. “Let me know if there’s enough sugar.”

Dylan took a tentative sip. “It’s perfect, thank you. You don’t have to stay. I can take care of myself. You should be with Leo.”

“My sister is with him. I’ll be at the hospital tomorrow, but today I’m going to take care of you.”

Dylan bit down on his lip and turned his head away, struggling to take a breath. His stomach twisted.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan pried the cup Dylan had been clutching out of his hand. Setting it aside, he took Dylan’s hand in his.

“Nothing, I’m… it’s the anesthesia wearing off.”

“You must be starving.” Ryan reached for the bowl of soup and handed it to him.

Dylan’s hand trembled as he lifted the spoon to his mouth and let the warm broth slip between his lips. Suddenly he dropped the spoon into the bowl and set it aside.

Ryan cupped his cheek, brushing the wetness away from his eyes. “Dylan, what’s going on? Are you in pain?”

“Why are you doing this?” he sniffed.

“Doing what?” The gentleness in Ryan’s voice broke Dylan apart even more.

“Taking care of me. You don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself. I’ve done what you needed me to do. You don’t have to feel guilty or anything for leaving me alone now.”

Ryan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re more than a donor to me.” He sighed. “You had a significant medical procedure, your body is weak, and you’re hungry and tired. Let me take care of you.” Ryan picked up the soup and held a spoonful to Dylan’s lips.

“I can feed myself.”

“Maybe, but I’m going to help you anyway.”

Dylan didn’t have the mental or physical strength to argue. He opened his mouth and let Ryan feed him. By the time he finished and made his way to the bathroom, sleep was trying to claim him again. The covers were tucked in around him. Dylan wasn’t sure if the soft caress over his forehead and the murmured words were part of a dream or not.

The sky was dusky blue when he opened his eyes. Ryan stirred in the chair next to the window.

Ryan came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you need?”

“I’m—I’m not sure.” He stretched gingerly, testing his limbs. “I feel… heavy. Like I’m made of sand.”

Ryan nodded. “You’re going to be weak while your body rebuilds the marrow that was taken. You don’t have to do anything but rest for now.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

Resting was for people who didn’t worry about being left alone without any support. Even when he took the time to relax with a book, there was always a part of him that felt guilty. He should have been taking on another tutoring client, or maybe even get a second job to keep his modest bank account healthy. Working himself to the point of exhaustion in college and when he’d first moved to LA, he’d learned to force himself to take breaks, but it was always a battle between what his body and spirit needed and his fears.

“Are you hungry?” Ryan checked his watch. “You should have some food in your stomach.” At the mention of food, Dylan’s stomach grumbled. “I guess that answers that question,” Ryan said with a smile. “Mrs. Lieu has been cooking all day. We’ve got chicken potpie, the vegetable potstickers you like, and pho. If there’s something else you want, let me know.”

“Pho sounds good, and maybe a couple of egg rolls?”

Ryan jumped up. “Got it.”

Mrs. Lieu came in fifteen minutes later with a tray filled with food. She set the tray down and fussed over Dylan, adding pillows and blankets to the bed until he was almost buried under layers of down before she kissed his forehead. “Beautiful boy, you’ll get better now. Mr. Blackstone is too selfish with you. I’m making him take a shower and eat. It’s my turn to look after you.”

“Ryan hasn’t eaten?”

She shook her head, tsking while she put the tray in his lap. “I told him he doesn’t do you any good if he gets sick too. He can’t spend all his time watching you.”

Mrs. Lieu tucked a napkin into the neck of his shirt and lifted the lid off the pot of pho and egg rolls. She poured a cup of fragrant jasmine tea. “I put beef in the pho. You need protein to get your strength back.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lieu, this looks wonderful.” He realized how late in the day it was and looked at his nightstand. “Do you know where my phone is? I should check in with my folks.”

She smiled and opened the drawer of the nightstand to retrieve his phone. “You don’t have to worry. Mr. Blackstone had been talking to your Kevin and Carl. He calls every hour to tell them you’re okay.”

The room blurred with a fresh sheen of tears. “It’s too much,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“No,” Mrs. Lieu said emphatically. “It’s just right. You need to learn how to accept kindness from people. You have us now: Ryan, Leo, and me. We will be your family.”

He held his hand out. “Thank you, Mrs. Lieu.”

She put her hand in his with a squeeze, gave his cheek a peck, and patted his shoulder. “My beautiful boy,” she said before leaving.

Ryan hadn’t left his side.

His hands shook as he dialed his dad’s number. Kevin answered on the first ring, and Dylan spent the next few minutes reassuring his fathers that he was okay. Ryan had made a good impression, and they couldn’t stop talking about how kind he’d been with his updates.

“It’s reassuring to know you’re in good hands,” Carl said.

“Yeah, I—it’s kind of hard,” Dylan admitted.

“What do you mean, son?”

“They’re all being so nice to me, wanting to take care of me.”

“Ah, I see. I know you’ve heard Carl and I say this before, and we’re going to keep telling you this. Maybe someday you’ll believe it. You’re worth being loved, Dylan. It’s okay to let people take care of you.”

Dylan tried to blink back tears, but they escaped anyway. “Love you, Dad,” he said in a shaky whisper.

“We love you too,” Kevin said. “You’re tired and weak. Get some rest and we’ll check in with you later.”

“Let us know if there’s anything you need,” Carl added.

“Okay.”

Dylan sniffed. He hung up and let the phone fall from his hand onto the mattress, his gaze going to the pink sky outside his window that cast a purple glow on the lake. He looked away from the setting sun to the doorway, wishing Ryan would come back. Dylan was sure he was with Leo, where he was supposed to be, but when Ryan held his hand, Dylan felt safe and cared for.

Dylan’s eyes drifted closed again, and he dreamed of waking up with Ryan holding his hand, their fingers intertwined.