Page 19 of Free Me

Isa placed his open palm on the back of his mate’s neck. They’d both been on edge all afternoon, waiting for the sedation to wear off so Linus could come around, and so far he’d remained unconscious. When his neurologist, Dr. Westin, came around with Demir in tow, Liam had practically leapt off Isa’s lap where he’d been resting since dinnertime. Liam was impatient, stressed out, and beyond exhausted, and those things didn’t wear well on him.

“These things are unpredictable,” Dr. Westin replied in the same patient monotone he’d used all week. “Linus’s fever is gone, the infection has cleared up. The sedation is working its way out of his system. Now it’s up to Linus to wake up.”

“Can’t you give him something to help with that?”

“Given his concussion, I’m uncomfortable doing that. He needs to wake up naturally and in his own time. We will, of course, continue to monitor his vitals and brain activity. He’s no longer comatose, Misters Higgs, he’s simply sleeping.”

Liam released a familiar, grumpy sigh. “Okay.”

“It’s only been a couple of hours, Liam,” Demir added. “You know Linus. He likes to do things in his own time. By his schedule. He’s like Dad that way.”

The gentle tease got a small smile out of Liam. Isa winked at Demir, grateful for his sense of humor during this crisis. Even though Demir had graduated medical school a decade ago, sometimes Isa still boggled over the fact that his son was a practicing physician and researcher. And that he’d accomplished so much already in his relatively brief life.

“I am stubborn,” Isa replied. “It’s probably an alpha thing.”

“Nah, all your kids are like that,” Liam said. “Even Layne.”

“You’re pretty stubborn yourself, Liam,” Demir added with a smile of his own.

Liam sighed but smiled, too. “I guess it’s just a Higgs thing. Rubs off on you whether you’re blood or not.”

Demir coughed.

Isa kissed the top of Liam’s head, then addressed Dr. Westin. “So we just wait?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Dr. Westin replied. “Talk to him like he’s awake and listening. Encourage him. I won’t lie to you. Linus is going to experience some severe pain these first few days and weeks, even with painkillers. Once he does wake up, we need to get him up and moving around as soon as possible and started on physical and occupational therapy.”

“Occupational therapy?” Liam asked.

“It’s the day-to-day things he’ll have to relearn in a wheelchair,” Demir replied. “Things like doing the dishes and navigating his home. But his assigned therapists will explain everything in greater detail, and they’ll work with you both, since I assume Linus will continue living at home.”

“Of course, it’s where he’s always lived. And it’s a single-story house anyway, so he’ll have the best access. For his…”

As Liam trailed off the thought, it fully hit Isa with the weight of a ten-car collision: Linus would be in a wheelchair. For weeks, if not months, until the prosthetic process happened, his bright, energetic youngest boy would be confined to a wheelchair. They’d have to rearrange some of the living room furniture, put handrails in the bathroom, get a shower seat, install a ramp to the front porch.

So many things.

“Oh, Isa,” Liam said, his normally soft voice barely a whisper now. “I hadn’t even considered the house yet.”

“Knowing our circle of friends,” Demir replied gently, “I have a feeling someone has already been out to the house taking measurements. You guys will not be doing all of this alone.”

“Do you think Tarius will switch rooms with Linus? His is bigger.”

“Something tells me Linus won’t want to switch rooms.” He reached out and squeezed Liam’s free arm. “So many things in his life are going to change, and there’s a good chance he’s going to want as much normalcy as possible. His room, his bed, even something as mundane as the soap he usually uses.”

“And he won’t be going home right away,” Dr. Westin added. “He’s going to need to spend at least two weeks in in-patient rehabilitation.” Isa felt Liam tense up to object, but Dr. Westin went on. “I know you want to take your son home, but in-patient is his best option in terms of immersive therapy. Plus, we still don’t know what his physical and cognitive function will be yet, not until he wakes up.”

Isa filled in the blanks for himself:We don’t know if he’ll be able to walk, talk, or move what’s left of his body.

All the wait-and-see was making Isa a little crazy. He was a fixer and a protector, not a watcher and waiter. At home, he could be overseeing all the changes they’d need to make for Linus’s eventual return, but he also couldn’t leave his mate or his son’s side right now. Even going across the street to their communal hotel room for a power nap felt like a betrayal to his family, and no way was he going anywhere today. Not until Linus opened those dark brown Haley-Higgs eyes and smiled.

“We’re still in early days,” Dr. Westin said as he checked his watch. “I have an appointment soon, but the nurses will page me if Linus begins waking up. Remember, talk to him.”

He left but Demir remained. Even in his lab coat and with the first glints of gray flashing in the overhead lighting, Isa still saw his little boy standing in front of him. The precociouschild who’d worn his omegin Herris out with his games. The teenager who’d survived his own trauma and decided to cure an incurable disease. The young man who’d walked into a three-way relationship with love and poise and determination. His little boy. His to love and protect, just like Demi’s brothers. Just like Linus, who was broken in a way Isa couldn’t fix.

Familiar, frustrated, grief-filled tears pressed against the backs of Isa’s eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall. He had to be strong now; he could have a nervous breakdown later. Probably call his therapist, too.

“A nurse mentioned you asked permission for Miko Tovey to visit,” Demir said. “That was kind of you guys. I imagine he’s feeling a lot of guilt over the accident. Seeing Linus with his own eyes probably helped.”

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