Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

quickly darkening pools of green hurt. "He called out your name."
    Peter forced himself to hold still in the bed. He couldn't be no help to Rufus if he was curled up making dying donkey noises again, and Rufus needed somebody to be strong for him right about now. "Come on up here, Rufus." His cousin scrambled up from the floor, and then clambered careful as could be onto the bed. Peter put his arm around Rufus's shoulders, pulling the big lug in close to him. "I'm right sorry about him calling out my name, Rufus. I didn't ever—"
    "I know." Rufus's voice was muffled a little from where his face pressed into the side of Peter's neck. "He told me y'all never did. He didn't love me, Peter. He told me he never got over loving you enough to love me except as the closest thing he could get to you."
    All the muscles in Peter's body clenched. Fierce gladness for the brutal treatment he'd given Randy time after time on the practice mats of the wrestling team they'd both belonged to at the YWCA in Almston, rose up in him.
    Rufus pinched Peter's side hard, and Peter realized he was squeezing his cousin hard enough to bruise the poor guy. "I'm sorry Rufus."
    Rufus shook his head. "What are you sorry for? I mean, you did just about squeeze the life outta me just now." Peter grinned against the top of Rufus's head. The sorrowful note was gone from Rufus's voice, and he was back to being his normal sassy self.
    "No, you fool. I'm sorry pa and I didn't keep closer tabs on what y'all were dealing with back home." Rufus grunted, digging his chin into the join of Peter's neck and shoulder in a half tickling, half painful manner. Peter hugged him hard once more, and then pushed him toward the edge of the bed. "You best get up before the nurse comes. We'd best not give Tater any more reason to kick both our asses."
    "He didn't want you to know about his readin' problem." Rufus shrugged with one shoulder.
    Peter nodded. "I understand that, but that's something could hurt his chances of getting a college degree if he doesn't get help with it. I don't care if he's mad about that. He'll have to learn you can't keep those sorts of secrets from your family."
    Rufus drew in a quick breath as he swung his legs off the bed and stood back up. "You sound just like Uncle Ezekiel."
    Peter gave a half smile. "Yeah, ma's been saying that a lot lately too. Thanks."
    Tater came back just then with the nurse. He gave both cousins a hard look as he entered the room, but whatever he saw in their faces must have satisfied him, because he sat down in the chair in the corner without saying a word until he closed his eyes. Stretching his legs out in front of him, Tater settled his big hands on his stomach. "I'll be here tonight, Rufus. You get home and take care of the dogs, and make sure Marcus eats something. He's about beside himself worrying about Peter. You let him know the docs done said they don't need to operate. Peter's just gonna need to rest up for a mite."
    Rufus and Peter exchanged a glance. Peter cast a long look in Tater's direction. "Who died and put you in charge?"
    The nurse, a tall, curvaceous woman with light brown skin and curly blondish hair clicked her tongue as the last word left Peter's mouth, her eyes still fixed on the needle she had stuck into the IV at the crook of Peter's arm. He noted the way she twisted her mouth up, just like his momma did when she thought he was saying something too stupid to bear responding to. He cut his eyes back over to Tater when a low growl sounded from the corner where he sat.
    Tater's eyes opened up enough to reveal a slit of hot brown fury. "Peter, I hope you understand that I will whoop your ass right there in your hospital bed." He didn't say another word, closing his eyes back tight and propping one booted foot on top of the other.
    "He took the call from Marcus and at first we didn't know how bad you was hurt." Rufus's rumbled out the explanation quickly.
    Peter rolled his eyes. "Well, hell, the only thing that could make this any better—"
    A commotion in the hallway cut across Peter's words. A lightly accented voice was raised in determined tones. "No, I will not stop. I know he is here and I will find him. You are most welcome to call the police to escort me out if you feel I am such a grave danger to—"
    Peter knew the voice better than he knew his own. Hinata had been in a play the year they both went to the same high school. Peter had managed to go to all three performances, and though