The Blinding Light (6 page)

“What a pity. You’ll just have to force it down.” I’ll let you in on a little secret—I don’t do sympathy much. Whatever. Call the Sympathy Police or something.

“I don’t want it.”

I stared down at him, not that he knew. “You have two choices. Either you can sit up and eat under your own steam, or I’ll sit here and shovel it in for you. And believe me, every time you scream it’ll give me a great reason to shove a mouthful in.”

I was completely bullshitting him, but he didn’t know. He groaned and pushed himself to a sitting position. Once he was upright, I snagged a pillow and laid it across his lap before placing the tray on top. He searched across the tray with his hand, so I helped him out. “Here’s your fork. On your plate are two eggs on a piece of toast. I cut it up for you into little bites so you just need to scoop. Dig in and I’ll be back in five minutes. Gregor needs his breakfast too.”

I left him to feed himself and poured biscuits into a doggie bowl for a happy Gregor. He looked to be a great dog and I patted him a couple of times and left him to feed himself as well. I stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, then went back to check on the patient. The empty plate was still on the tray but the whole thing had been placed on the floor and Patrick was curled up on his side once again with his eyes closed. I pulled the quilt over his shoulder for a third time.

“I took some money from the grocery purse. I’ll ride up to the chemist and pick you up some stuff that will make you feel better. Okay?”

Patrick didn’t open his eyes. “Ride?”

“Yep. Ride. Maybe when you’re better I’ll let you have a go on my trusty bicycle. But for now have a quick nap and I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Shopping for a cold was a matter of experience—cold and flu tablets from the chemist, two different varieties of throat lozenges (one with menthol, one without), Vicks for the chest, tissues with eucalyptus in them, honey and lemons to make tea, aspirin, nose spray, and all the ingredients for chicken soup.

Gregor came to greet me as I fumbled through the door with bags of groceries.

“Jake? Is that you?” Patrick’s feeble voice came from the direction of the bedroom.

“Yes. It’s just me. I’ll bring you something in two shakes.”

The man was still curled up in a miserable heap when I came in with the items for his cold. “Hey,” I called as I walked in. “I have a bunch of things for you to make you better. But you need to sit up again. Sorry.”

I wasn’t exactly sorry to be seeing his naked chest again. I felt a bit discomfited at perving on a guy who couldn’t tell, and a guy who was as sick as a dog at the same time. Discomfited, yes, but not sorry enough to stop. He was a mighty fine figure and I needed eye candy. It made my day. He was thin and stringy without bulgy muscles that came from religiously working out. No, this guy was naturally gorgeous. And maybe with a little help from the treadmill in the sunroom.

When he was upright, I told him to hold out his hand. I placed two tablets in his palm and passed him water to wash them down; then I watched as he swallowed. “Good. They should kick in soon, and you can get up and have a shower. Now, here. These are throat lozenges that will help your sore throat and clear your nose too.”

He fingered the packet. “How did you know I had a sore throat?”

I laughed. “Mate, sore throats are kind of a requirement when you have a cold. Suck on one and I’ll make you a nifty label for the box in a bit. Now put your hand out. These are tissues with eucalyptus in them, which you can probably smell. They help heaps.”

He grabbed the box and sniffed loudly. “I can’t smell a thing at the moment.”

“Diddums. Once again a requirement of a cold.” I reached over and patted him on the shoulder in mock sympathy. Yeah—okay! I did it to cop a feel as well. Hey! What can a man do? With all that exquisite, pale flesh on display? I pushed gently to get him to lie down again and pulled the covers up.

“I’ll be back in a little bit. Just call if you need me.”

I left him for half an hour while I put chicken soup on the stove to cook, but then I came back to coax him out of bed.

“Come on, big guy. Up, up, up. Go and chuck yourself in the shower and feel nice and clean while I change the sheets.”

“What?”

He seemed a bit better, less sniffy anyway, so I ripped the covers off him and yanked his leg. Yeah—okay! I was copping a feel again. Sue me! “Out. I have to put new sheets on the bed.”

He looked horrified. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because I’ve been sweating all over these sheets and they’re gross.”

“So?”

“So, you shouldn’t have to do that.”

I laughed and leaned over him to whisper confidingly in his ear. “Dude, I’ve been changing your sheets for weeks. I know all your secrets now. Who do you think cleaned up after your little orgy?”

The guy turned adorably red from the tips of his ears, down his neck and even across his chest. I wanted to kiss him better, but nothing would get you fired faster than making a move on a straight guy. I pulled his arm and helped him to his feet. “Shower,” I ordered. “And don’t come out for at least ten minutes so I have time to remake the bed.”

He stayed in bed for the rest of the day while I completed my chores. I dosed him with honey and lemon tea and gave him nose spray. I fed him chicken soup for lunch and gave him another two tablets. Then, as he was flagging, I tucked him into bed for a nap and passed him the Vicks chest rub.

“Here. This is Vicks. Rub it on your chest and it will help you breathe easier.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. “My chest?”

“Yep. Just grab some on your finger and rub it around your upper chest. I’d offer to do it for you and I’d enjoy the task immensely, but you’re such a fusspot I betcha you’d just deny me my jollies on principle.”

There was a pause as Patrick absorbed what I said. He didn’t disappoint with his reaction. His head swung in my direction and disbelief was obvious on his features. “You’re gay?”

“Sure. If you could see you would’ve realized straight away. I don’t hide it.”

“Oh. Why are you telling me now?”

“Just in case. I like to be upfront about it so any bullshit comes out at the beginning and doesn’t hit me for six later. So, do you have a problem with a gay, male housekeeper?”

Patrick appeared to think about it for a moment, then asked with confusion, “No. Should I?”

“Nope. Now give me your mobile phone number.”

“Huh? Why?”

I sighed at his incomprehension. “So I can ring you, arse wipe. Now, what is it?” He recited it to me and I programmed it into my phone.

“Why do you need my number?”

I patted his leg as I moved away. “Because you’re going to rub that stuff on your chest and then you’re going to take a nap for a couple of hours. It’s nearly two o’clock and I only work until three. So I’ll ring you at four o’clock and make sure you’re okay and that you’re awake. If you sleep all afternoon you won’t sleep tonight.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

“Cheer up, grumpy. I have to go and visit my sister after work or there’ll be hell to pay, but I’ll be back to feed you dinner.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not going to die.”

I smiled at him, even though he couldn’t see it. “Don’t worry. It’s not for your sake. I’m doing it for my own preservation. If no one comes back to feed Gregor or let him outside, he’s going to shit on the carpet and I’m the one who has to clean it up. Besides, I’m going to charge you for it.”

He opened the jar of Vicks and tried to smell the contents. “Yes. Make sure you inform the company of your extra hours and I’ll pay you for your dedication.”

I laughed. “No, man. I’m going to charge you a bowl of chicken soup and some bread. I’ll have my dinner here and make sure you’re good before I leave.”

“Fine.”

I waited, but Patrick simply began to smear the clear gel across his pecs. I needed to get out of the room before my cock embarrassed me, but I was a sucker for punishment. “I’m still waiting.”

“What?”

“Manners, man! Manners! I tell you I’m coming back here to check on you and you need to respond. I’ll give you a hint. It’s either please, thank you, or sorry.”

“Oh.” His blush was back. “Thank you for everything today and for coming back to check on me.”

“No problem. Now, stop fucking teasing me with that cream and get under the covers for a nap.”

I swear the man smiled at my predicament before he obeyed.

M
Y
OLDEST
sister lived two suburbs away in an old house that was rented from the government. She was the closest to me in age and my greatest failure as a big brother. And that “failure” was now running toward me shouting, “Uncle Jake! Uncle Jake!”

I always blamed myself that Ellie got pregnant before she was twenty. I wasn’t vigilant enough. Ellie called me all sorts of names—stupid being her favorite—for feeling this way, but I couldn’t help but think it was my fault. But no matter how much I blamed myself for the pregnancy, I loved my niece to death.

I caught my niece as she jumped into my arms from the top of the steps. “Hey! Sweet pea! How was school today?”

“Good. I painted a picture for you.”

“Yeah? Great. Where’s Mummy?”

The door banged and I looked up to see Ellie standing on the veranda with a tea towel in her hand. “Hey, Jake. You’re a bit later than usual today.”

Ellie barely looked eighteen, despite her advanced age of twenty-four—and I knew that because she was forever complaining that she got carded every single time she went to a bar. We look nothing alike—I take after my father and she’s a fair mix of both our mother and her father, Alex. She has Mum’s blonde hair and Alex’s blue eyes, and a cute little nose that came from someone we couldn’t quite pin down. She’d passed on her blue eyes to her daughter, but Skylah’s dad took the blame for her dark-brown hair.

I dropped Skylah to the ground and told her to bring me her painting. She dashed off, allowing me to place a kiss on Ellie’s head as I moved past her into the house. “I’m not late.”

“You want a coffee? Coke?” Ellie asked as she followed me into the kitchen.

“Nah. Just some water, thanks.”

We visited while I played with my niece and raved over her paintings from Pre-Primary. I kept an eye on the clock and at 4:00 p.m. I excused myself before going out the back to call Patrick. He answered with a groggy, “Yes?”

“Patrick? It’s Jake. You need to wake up now, man.” He answered me with a long groan. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Come on, now. Haul that beautiful body out of bed and go and sit on the couch or something. If you stay in bed, you’ll go back to sleep.”

“No. Go away.”

“Are you getting out of bed?”

“Yes.”

I waited two heartbeats. “Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.”

I laughed. “If you don’t get out of bed I’m going to label all your groceries wrong. And I’m starting with swapping the labels for salt and sugar.”

He groaned again. “You’re a sadist.”

“Yep. Now get up.” I disconnected the call and went back inside.

Ellie was cooking dinner—one of my favorites that I had taught her—shepherd’s pie.

“Who was that? A boyfriend?”

I sat down at the table once again. “No. My boss—the grouchy guy I clean for? Patrick. I met him for the first time today and freakin’ hell, Ellie. He’s beautiful.”

She giggled. “And you have his phone number already? You’re a total man slut, Jake.”

“Hush. Don’t teach your daughter words like that,” I teased. “Besides, he’s sick in bed with a cold, so there’s nothing kinky going on. There’s been nothing kinky in my life for months now, sis. I swear that Mum has sucked it all dry.”

That sobered us both. She frowned at me. “You shouldn’t have done it, Jake. Mum needs to pick up her own crap. You’re going to be paying off loans for years. Are you coping?”

I picked at a scratch on her table. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Besides, Mum said she’d pay me back.”

She sighed and sat down next to me, not bothering even to point out that Mum had said the same thing before. “Are you really fine? Because if you’re not, I don’t wanna ask you for help.”

I groaned internally. Fuck! Ellie was going to ask me for more money. “How much do you need?”

She looked to the side, not meeting my eyes. “It’s for Skylah. Swimming lessons at school. Just forty bucks, Jake. Can you spare that?”

No!
“Have you asked Craig?”

Ellie scoffed. “Yeah, right. That man refuses to pay one cent more than his required parenting payment.”

“I thought I worked out the budget for you, Ellie. You said you were sticking to it.”

“I was!” she immediately defended. “But I was sick a couple of weeks back, remember? That gastro bug? Then Skylah came down with it too. I had to take four days off work and I only had two sick days left. They docked my pay.”

I sighed. “Did you bother adjusting your grocery money to compensate for that?” She just shook her head, and I reached in my back pocket for my wallet. “Here. Look, this is my last twenty. I get paid tomorrow and I’ll drop some more off then.”