Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

for taking out the trash. He remembered that Adam had mentioned a distance with his parents, like they didn’t get it, didn’t get him or his illness. As Denver listened to Mrs. Ellery’s strained, almost emotionally frozen reaction, as he imagined Adam trying to find security in that disconnected reserve—well, things started to become much clearer. “I’ll keep you posted,” he promised, and shortly after that they ended their conversation.
    It was then that Louisa arrived.
    “I want to see him,” she demanded. Her eyes were red, and she kept wiping them with a tissue. Her makeup ran just a little too.
    “They said give them a few more minutes,” Denver told her. “But they also keep promising me he’s going to be fine.”
    “I’m going to kill Brad,” she whispered, wiping her eyes again.
    “Get in line,” Denver murmured.
    That made her laugh a little. “No fair. If you get to him first, there won’t be anything left for me to go after.”
    “We’ll take him together.”
    “Deal.”
    The doctors called them over then, saying Adam had been asking for Denver. He was in a corner of the ER ward behind a curtain, wearing a hospital gown and propped up on pillows. He looked doped up but much, much calmer.
    “Denver,” Adam slurred, smiling sideways as he reached for him. “Oh, and Louisa too. Yay.”
    “We’re only going to keep him a few more hours,” the doctor said. “He seems to be much better now and is in no real danger. We’d like someone to stay with him tonight, however, just to be safe.”
    Denver nodded. “I will.” He frowned at Adam, realizing this broke one of his rules. “If that’s okay with Adam.”
    Adam nodded and gave another goofy smile. “It’s okay with Adam.”
    He hoped that would be true even when the drugs wore off. Or that they’d give Adam a take-home pack.
    Hell, he wondered if he could ask for a hit for himself.

    It was dinnertime when the hospital finally let Adam out, and Louisa volunteered to bring Thai takeout over to Denver’s place. That seemed to make the decision about where they were going to spend the night, and since Adam didn’t argue, Denver went with it.
    “You okay?” he asked as he settled Adam onto the couch. He crouched down beside him, scanning his lover’s face as he looked for signs of increased stress. “Being in my house okay still? Not just for the afternoon, either, but overnight?”
    Adam nodded. He was still foggy, and he seemed to have a hard time keeping his head up. In fact, by the time Louisa appeared with food, he’d drifted back to sleep.
    The two of them sat at Denver’s kitchen table, eating silently.
    “How are you doing?” Louisa asked eventually. “You holding up okay?”
    Denver nodded. Then shrugged. “I mean, he’s fine, right? Maybe it was too much to call the paramedics.”
    “No, that was smart, especially since you didn’t know what was going on.” When the silence went on again, she patted his hand. “Go ahead. Ask me questions. Vent. Get it out.”
    Denver let out a breath. “I don’t know what to say. I feel like I got hit sideways. Nothing really happened, except it sure as hell feels like it did.”
    “Yes.” Louisa leveled her gaze. “This is what it’s like, living with anxiety. You don’t have it, but you’re living with it. There will be other bad days. Other attacks. No matter how strong Adam gets, the world will always have a more difficult challenge for him. And just like you found out today, you can’t save him. You can’t block it out. More often than not, you’ll have to just help him pick up the pieces after it falls apart on him. Again.”
    Denver leaned back in his chair and frowned at his plate. “I’m starting to get that.”
    “Can you live with that?”
    Denver thought about that, made himself consider before answering. Finally he said, “Guess I’ll have to, huh?”
    Louisa smiled and squeezed his hand. “Good answer.”

    When Adam woke up, he wasn’t sure where he was at first, and it brought on new panic. Then Denver appeared, hovering over him, and he calmed.
    “You’re at my place,” Denver told him. He held up a plate. “I have Thai. It’s a little cold. Want me to heat it up some?”
    Adam, starving, shook his head and pushed himself more upright before reaching for the plate. He felt woozy and unfocused—they were big-time drugs, the ones they’d given him at the hospital. He felt floaty.
    Denver watched him like a hawk. “You still