Trevor cracked a smile. “She sure did.” Trevor was a few years older than Anne, so he’d escaped that fate.
“Roses are edible but still, that unfortunate child.” His grandmother made a rueful face. “I’m not supposed to have favorites, but Anne does make poor choices.”
That could be about the roses or it could be about Anne’s future groom and in-laws.
Sly and wicked, these days, his grandma. Trevor nodded without hiding his amusement. “Family chat discussion about Anne—withAnne is happening right now,” he informed her, leaving her to check in and make her decision for herself.
His grandma raised her eyebrows before reaching for her phone. She tapped her glasses down to plop onto her nose. She read something and then shook her head and clucked her tongue.
With the family chat buzzing and Sky likely still asleep, Trevor went out into the garden with Ellie, where he peered over the fence toward G.G.’s house, which continued to look unoccupied.
G.G. had passed out on the way to the hospital and crashed his truck. He’d bled out in the hospital parking lot. He was still sitting in a waiting room because the current wave of infections meant the hospital didn’t have time to deal with someone only needing stitches.
Those scenarios and more ran through Trevor’s mind, effectively eliminating what calm he’d gained after his session with Sky and the pic of the remnants of a bowl of cereal and glass of juice Sky had eventually sent. Since Ellie was probably responding to his mood, Trevor took her for an extra walk despite the warm afternoon sun. When they returned, G.G.’s driveway remained empty, the garage door closed, not a single light in any window.
Trevor unclipped Ellie’s leash, tossed his hat on the counter, and then picked up G.G.’s spare key and went back out. He stopped at the mailbox at the edge of G.G.’s yard, which had a few fliers and letters in it. Trevor collected that to bring in for G.G., noting the name on the non-junk mail was G. Griffin. That gave Trevor half ofG.G.yet explained nothing, and Griffin made him think of fantasy creatures again, griffons with penetrating gazes.
He knocked on the door and waited, not liking that he didn’t hear a response. Simple stitches shouldn’t have taken this long to get. Urgent Care should have been open in the morning. They could have sent G.G. there and been done with it.
He knocked again, then, when nothing happened, used the key.
The door swung open before he could turn the handle and he stumbled forward a step before quickly straightening.
“Sorry,” he said immediately. “You weren’t answering, so I wasn’t sure if you were home. The cat,” he added a second later when G.G. only stared at him. G.G.’s gaze, significantly less penetrating than usual, went slowly down to Trevor’s shoes, then back up to his jeans before he paused and made a face that was almost comically puzzled.
It was that and the shining quality to G.G.’s eyes when they finally came back up to Trevor’s face that clued Trevor in to the fact that the doctors must have given G.G. some painkillers… or a night and part of a day in the ER had him exhausted to the point of acting stoned.
His hair was a mess as well, including his beard, which looked smushed, like he’d passed out face-first onto a stiff pillow. He was also wearing the same blood-stained shirt that he’d had on last night, although he was barefoot and in sweatpants, so he’d managed that much before going horizontal.
“You didn’t drive home like this did you?” Trevor demanded without thinking. “I can give you a ride in these situations. Seriously, it’s no trouble. I’m right next door.”
“…Just took it,” G.G. answered. Speaking seemed to take some effort. He’d either gotten some of the good shit or wasn’t used to any sort of strong drug. “I mean, I just took the pills.”
Trevor gave a jerky nod, thought of Sky’s reaction to all of that, and shook his head.
“Did you eat?” That was possibly worse. Trevor hoped whatever G.G. was on would dull his memory of this whole encounter. “Vending machine stuff, probably? Or do they not let you remove your mask while you wait? You should eat if you haven’t.” Especially if he was on painkillers. Those things could mess up stomachs and make recovery harder.
Of course, G.G. was going to find cooking difficult. The mess in his kitchen sink notwithstanding, his right hand was a mass of white bandages, probably to immobilize it as well as to keep the wound clean.
“I could….”
No, he couldn’t. Trevor wasn’t going to be pushy. It wasn’t his place to be concerned. G.G. was an adult significantly older than Trevor. He’d sleep it off and wake up in pain, but he’d manage. Food could be delivered.
Trevor counted to ten to let his thoughts subside.
G.G. stared at him, eyes glazed and soft.
Controlling himself, Trevor handed him his mail, or tried to, then realized G.G. hadn’t moved. He put the mail into G.G.’s other hand, sighing in relief when G.G. stopped regarding him with confused wonder and closed his hand around the useless fliers and possibly important letters.
“Well,” Trevor said finally, absolutely not letting anything elseconcernedslip out of his mouth even though G.G. needed a shower and to change his shirt and maybe brush his hair in addition to how he ought to eat, “bring the key back to my grandmother if you still want her to have it.”
He did not turn around to look behind him as he went home, but didn’t think he imagined that G.G.’s door didn’t click shut until Trevor reached his grandmother’s driveway.
Sky’s message popped up at a late hour, but still within a reasonable time for Sky to be heading to bed.
Have eaten dinner as well. Snuggle my replacement for me.
Trevor looked down off the side of the bed to Ellie curled up in her bed.
