Grady paused at the door. Max couldn’t focus on his expression. “Okay. I’m going to let Gru out for a pee and I’ll be back.”
Of course, by then Max was mostly asleep, one foot on the floor to keep the room from spinning.
“Good?” Grady asked as he slid into bed next to him.
“Mnaugh,” Max said.
“Good. Go to sleep.”
MAX WOKEup feeling like he’d been chewed up by a garbage compactor, digested by a camel, and shat out into a river of industrial sludge.
Sweat plastered the sheets to his body. His throat and stomach burned with acid. His head throbbed and he could feel his pulse pounding in his eyeballs.
Oh, I have made a mistake, Max thought as he eeled out of bed to limp to the bathroom.
“Max? You up?”
Max shoved his head under the bathroom sink tap and doused it in water. “Yeah.”
“Do you want breakfast?”
Max’s stomach heaved. “No.”
“Toast?”
He whimpered.
Mercifully, Grady had sent everyone out of the house—Max’s parents on a tour of Hollywood, Gru to doggy day care, Jess to surfing lessons. Max managed to get vertical long enough to lie down on the couch instead of the bathroom floor. He laid his head in Grady’s lap while Grady combed fingers through his hair and turned onPride & Prejudicewithout complaint.
After half an hour, someone knocked at the door—no doorbell, thank God—and Grady got up and let in a medic who hooked Max up to a banana bag IV.
“I love you so much,” Max said. He wasn’t even sure if he was talking to Grady or the fiftysomething woman sliding the needle into his vein.
The IV took care of the worst of the hangover, but Max’s stomach remained unhappy, and he still had a mild headache. Every few hours Grady offered insultingly bland food along with water and Advil. Max ate crackers and apple sauce and toast and bananas, but he attributed his ability to keep it down to the soothing way Grady ran his fingers through his hair.
“Hey,” Grady said around two in the afternoon. “Your phone’s been buzzing like crazy. You want to look at it?”
Max sighed. He was tired and comfortable, aside from his head and stomach, but…. “I should probably let people know I’m alive.” He closed his eyes. “But no. Head still hurts.” Focusing on a tiny glowing screen a few inches from his face seemed like a bad idea.
“Hmm.” Grady rubbed his thumb in a small circle behind Max’s ear, which immediately stopped the low-level throb Max’s skull had going on. “You want me to read you your texts?”
Max thought about what it might’ve cost Grady to ask if he wanted all his congratulations texts read out loud to him by his hypercompetitive boyfriend who’d gone out in the first round of the playoffs. Then he held up his hand long enough to use his fingerprint to unlock it. “Nah. Just tell everybody I’ll talk to them when I’m not dying.” At least the Cup parade wasn’t until tomorrow.
Grady smoothed his hand through Max’s hair again. It must be truly disgusting by now. “I’m gonna send them pictures.”
Max laughed in spite of himself and almost regretted it all over Grady’s pants. “Don’t make me throw up on you.”
In the end, Grady didn’t send any pictures. At dinner Grady made chicken soup that was mostly broth and noodles and served it with slices of fresh white bread. Then, after the sun had gone down, he coaxed Max into a lazy swim. Max sank up to his ears in cool water and realized Grady was a fucking genius. Then he dunked himself and flipped over to float on his back, supported by a pool noodle. “How come you’re so smart?”
“Used up all my stupid last year,” Grady teased, and flicked a few drops of water over Max’s face.
Max would’ve made a joke about renewable resources, but Grady had played nurse all day without complaint or even any outward sign of irritation or jealousy. What a man. “Hey,” Max said, “you know what I’ve heard is a good cure for hangovers?”
Snorting, Grady pushed down on the pool noodle, and Max flailed for a moment as the water closed over his head.
“Cold showers?” Grady said innocently when Max surfaced. But he was eyeing Max with an assessing gaze, clearly not about to dismiss the idea.
“Not exactly what I had in mind.” Max stood—the water was not quite chest-deep—and trailed his fingers down Grady’s sternum. He really did feel better—good enough that he could no longer ignore Grady’s hotness. It was a terrible cross to bear.
