Page 63 of Bean

“Nah. Not necessary. They’re non-epileptic seizures. They come with his migraines,” Nash said. “He needs meds, which are at our place, but I’m an hour outside the city.”

“Oh. I can take him,” I said quickly. “I’m more than happy to. I just wanted to check in. I didn’t know what to do, and I was worried.”

“I bet,” Nash said with a gentle chuckle. “Just breathe, silver bear.”

I flushed hard. Obviously, Beanhadbeen talking about me—about us. “Ha. Yeah, thanks.”

He laughed again. “I’m going to text you the address, okay? And where to find the meds. He can take them without food, but make sure he gets in plenty of water. If he doesn’t remember where his room is, it’s up the stairs and two doors on the right. No one’s home now, but at least one of us will be soon.”

“And you’re sure he’s okay for me to drive him home and skip the hospital?”

“Absolutely. I’d rather not have him deal with the stress of the ER on top of everything else.”

I breathed a little easier. “Thank you for this, Nash. It was really good to talk to you.” I felt almost sick with relief. A migraine and non-epileptic seizure. I could deal with that. As long as he was okay, that was all that mattered.

“Talk soon,” he said, then hung up.

“We good?” Dayton asked.

I nodded. “As long as you guys think he’s okay, I can drive him home.”

“I think that’s best. Rest and getting his meds are the best things you can do.” Dayton led the way back to the living room, where the two EMTs were packing up their cases.

The blonde woman smiled at me as I walked over. She made room so I could kneel next to Bean. He looked up at me, and while he wasn’t smiling, he seemed a little more coherent.

“How long have I been here?” he asked, his voice raspy.

I leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I picked you up after work. I just got off the phone with Nash, and he asked me to take you home. You okay with that, sunshine?”

“Mm. Need meds. Pain’s starting.”

I kissed his forehead again, then looked over at the strangers in my home and while they had calmed me down, now all I wanted was for them to leave. “Anything else?”

“We’re all good,” Dayton said. He ushered everyone out as I showed them to the door, and then he stuck out his hand and shook mine. “You’re a goodfriend.” The way he emphasized that word told me he hadn’t missed my near-slip. “He’s lucky to have you.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I was damn well going to try to be worthy of him. Maybe if Bean saw that, he’d realize what we had was worth the risk.

I hadn’t realized how far Bean lived from the city until we were on the road and my GPS told me it would be over an hour with the traffic. I’d set him up in the back seat with pillows, a blanket, and a lavender sleep mask I had left over from my insomnia nights right after the divorce.

I didn’t know if he was sleeping, but he was quiet, and for the first time that day, the silence was a comfort. This was a lot—in a good way, but I was also starting to question whether or not I was the right man for this. I’d panicked because I hadn’t known what was happening or what to do, but would it have been the same even if Bean had told me?

Gio had required a lot of attention but in a needy, spoiled way. He wanted all my attention while giving me none of his, and he balked every time I suggested we find a middle ground to make us both happy. It was what led to the open marriage and to the affairs after we closed it again.

It was different with Bean. It felt like so much more was on the line with him—so much more of my heart, anyway. But what if I failed to be the man he needed, just like I’d done with my ex?

The thought plagued me all the way to his place, and I pulled into the driveway of a very nice two-story unattached house, which was rare these days. It had an old-world look that I loved, and as I got Bean through the door, the charm followed me inside. The floors were worn and well-loved, the walls covered in photos, and the smell of recently used spices and shower gel permeated the hallways.

I led Bean up the stairs and two doors down to his bedroom. It was very much him—neat, orderly, covered in Post-It notes with instructions. He had a small dresser with medications lined up along the edge, and after getting him beneath his covers, it only took me a moment to find the one for his migraines.

“I’m going to get you water,” I murmured against his ear.

He grumbled, then reached for me, and I let him cling tightly until his body relaxed. When his breathing evened out, I made my way downstairs and found the kitchen. It was as tidy as the rest of the house but definitely lived in.

I could be comfortable there—maybe not permanently. I wanted my own space. But I also found myself wanting to be part of this too. To be invited to stay.

The craving stayed with me back up to Bean’s room, where I fed him the pill and eventually got the whole glass of water in him. He settled into his pillows, and I knew he’d be out for a while.

I turned off all the lights, determined to leave and speak with him when he was feeling better, but as I reached the front door, it opened, and I came face-to-face with a very tall, very good-looking man about my age.