Page 8 of Left Behind

“What?” B.J. asked.

“Are you as big a wiseass in the kitchen as you are off the leash?”

B.J. shrugged. “I hated being yelled at when I was a sous-chef. I never saw the point in being loud, or being a jackass to people. So, I don’t yell. I don’t curse. But I have been known to point out the error of their ways in terms that illustrate my disgust or dismay, without hurting their feelings.”

“Like how?” Wiley asked.

“Oh, I don’t know…like the sous-chef that showed up last month. First day on the job, he’s cutting off pieces of dough for French baguettes, and rolling them to size to set in the baguette pans to proof. They were abysmal, and I walked over to where he was working and quietly told him they looked like limp dicks and were never leaving my kitchen.”

Wiley burst out laughing, then grabbed his chest and his stomach at the same time.

“Oh lord, that hurt, but the laugh was worth it! What did he do?”

“He just whispered, ‘Yes, Chef,’ without looking up, pulled the dough out of the pan, and the rest of them turned out fine. Now, I think you’ve been up enough for today. I’ll help you in and out of the shower, then into bed. If you want to watch TV, you can do in lying down.”

Wiley didn’t argue. “You sound like Mom.”

“We all still answer to her, and I don’t want to be on her bad side. I promised I’d take care of you, and you’re going to have to deal with it.”

“Understood, and I’m too miserable to argue.”

A short while later, Wiley was stretched out in bed again, fresh from a shower and satiated from the food in his belly. He’d taken another pain pill and B.J. pulled up the covers and handed him the TV remote.

“I’ll be across the hall in the pink room,” B.J. said.

Wiley grinned. “It was already pink when I moved in. Mom offered to decorate, and I didn’t want to, so that’s what she picked out, and I’m fine with it.”

“It’s all good. I was just teasing you,” B.J. said. “Besides, I’ve never slept in such a girlie room in my life. Maybe it will speak to my feminine side.”

“So says my Harley-riding brother who spent all of high school in silver-studded black leather and Wrangler jeans with the knees worn out.”

B.J. shrugged. “It was a phase. Sleep well, and give a shout if you need me. I’m leaving the doors open between us.” He headed out of the room, then paused in the doorway. “I am so very glad you’re still alive, Brother,” he said, then turned off the light and walked out.

Wiley closed his eyes. Moments later, tears rolled from the corners and onto the pillow beneath his head. All he could think was, So am I.

Chapter 2

B.J. got up with Wiley once more in the night, and when Wiley woke up again, it was daylight and his brother was gone.

He thought about seeing Linette at the ER. He’d wanted so badly to talk to her, but the timing was off. He still regretted what had happened between them and the disaster their first date became, and all because of two jealous women—Cecily Michaels, who he first met while working at Reagan Bullard’s music venue, and Rhonda Tiller, who worked as a desk clerk at Hotel Devon.

He’d dated Cecily once and Rhonda twice, and then never called them again, although they’d chased him around town for a few weeks to no avail. He was polite and friendly, but they were a little too into themselves to suit.

Then on his first date with Linette, they made it their mission to mess it up for him. All he could figure was they’d gotten together to do it, because seeing both of them show up on his first date with Linette was no accident. One of them showed up at Trapper’s Bar and Grill, where he’d taken Linette, and flirted with Wiley in front of Linette without even acknowledging she was sitting there, and then blew him a kiss and left.

He was stunned and embarrassed, and trying to explain when the second one showed up and did the very same thing. To his dismay, Linette got up and walked out, and he hadn’t seen her since—until yesterday in the bank, blood-splattered and coming to his aid.

He was still in bed, trying to work up the courage to move when his phone signaled a text. It was from his mom.

Text me when you wake so I’ll know you’re okay. Whatever you need, just let me know and I’ll bring it. Love you.

He smiled, then responded.

Just woke up. I’m okay. B.J. spent the night. He’s gone to work now. I’m just lying around taking it easy. Don’t worry.

It was only after he hit Send that he realized Linette had texted him last night. The fact that she’d followed up gave him hope that he might have a second chance with her after all, and he responded.

Sorry I missed your text. My brother B.J. came to babysit me and I fell asleep. I promise I’m not messing around. I’m too sore to blink. Thank YOU for helping me. Scariest shit in the world to be conscious and unable to take a breath. I owe you. Maybe one day you’ll let me try that dinner date with you again, but without the bullshit. They thought it was funny. I didn’t. It was unforgivable. I’ve blocked their calls.

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