Page 106 of Daily Grind
One simple word. So much weight.
“It wasn’t pleasant. So much went wrong leading up to it—the whole thing with my parents and never getting over that, my relationships, CirroBot nearly going under.” He gave a short laugh. “A flood of personal and professional misfortune.”
Brian knew that feeling. “What happened?”
Rob pursed his lips and met his stare. “I collapsed at work. They hauled me to the hospital and pumped me full of electrolytes. I’d, quite literally, run myself into the ground.” He mimed someone falling over with his hand.
“I’m not that bad.”
Rob gave him a look that could only be described as dubious. “What’s that Pittsburgh word for when someone’s being a jackass?”
He scooped up his coffee and answered. “Jagoff.”
“Ah, yes.” Rob crossed both arms. “Stop being a jagoff, Brian.”
Nothing to do but drink his coffee. At a certain level, Rob was right. He sighed and stretched out his neck. “I’m not trying to be, you know.”
Rob’s expression softened. “I know,” he murmured. “But I see you, Bri. Maybe better than you do.”
God, he’d heard that before—not those words—but those thoughts. That he wasn’t taking care of himself, that he was close to burning out.
He hadn’t before. He didn’t plan to now. “Can we change the subject?”
Rob reclaimed his coffee mug and nodded. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t say another word.
The silence was almost as bad, because it let his brain turn over all that Rob had said, and realize how right he was. He shook it off and peered out into the yard. There were more plants out there, now. And some fencing. “Are you growing a garden?”
A slow nod. Rob leaned back. “Your father had extra tomato and pepper plants. He left them and a note on my front porch a couple weeks ago.”
That was odd. “Dad usually has just enough…”
Rob’s beautiful smile finally appeared. “I gathered that when the garden soil, and the wooden frames showed up a couple days later, along with a note to call him when I had a chance to start planting.”
Heat to his face. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry!”
But Rob grinned. “No, it’s fine. I wanted a garden.” He swallowed some coffee and for an instant, there was such loss and pain. “And it was nice to have someone… do that for me. A neighbor. An elder.”
A father. The unspoken word hung in the air. “My folks really like you.”
“So I’ve gathered.” He gestured out into the yard. “Took the better part of three evenings.” There was a flush on Rob’s cheeks again. “And your mom dropped off pasta the other day.”
Wow. “Sounds like they’ve adopted you.”
Rob nodded. “I don’t quite know what to make of that, to be honest. I mean, we’ve only been dating… how long have we been dating?”
“You walked into my shop in mid-March.”
Rob nodded. “And it’s Memorial Day Weekend.”
Right. So, a little under three months. Not long at all, but they’d both been pretty clear about how serious they’d wanted this to be.
As Brian watched Rob finish his coffee, he couldn’t actually contemplate a timewithoutRob. Felt like he’d always been here—would always be here. “Too fast?”
So many times they’d asked that question of each other.
Rob shook his head, as always. “No.” He shrugged. “Well, maybe the parental adoption thing, but I appreciate that more than you might imagine.”
From what Rob had explained, Brian could understand that. He studied the garden again, then the sky, with its white clouds and sunshine. “Wish I’d brought my bike.”
