Hero {Brendan Gallagher}

16 - Home Sweet Home

Today was the day that Brendan was coming home from the hospital. It was about 5:00 in the evening, and he had had his surgery earlier that day around 9:00. His mom was going to drop him off at the apartment, and I was here getting things ready. I had picked up all of his prescriptions and had began to organize them when I heard the front door open.

I came out from the bedroom to see Della carrying Brendan's bag, and he looked somewhat still out of it.

"The doctor said the anesthesia is still fogging him up right now," his mom said, patting him on the arm. "He should be better in a few hours."

"I'm fine," he mumbled, shuffling his feet towards the couch. I gave her a knowing smile and walked towards her to take the bag.

"Thank you so much for taking care of him," she told me, reaching out to touch my arm. "He's very blessed to have you."

"Thank you, Della," I responded. "I'm happy to do it."

"You're welcome, honey. I'll come over around 10 tomorrow with breakfast if that's okay," she told me, a smile creeping onto her face. It was sweet that she wanted to spend so much time with us. I mean, yes, of course she wanted to spend time with her son, but I was honored that she wanted to include me in that.

"That'd be perfect! See you then!"

She squeezed my arm and told Brendan goodbye before heading out to her hotel.

"Hey, baby," he said groggily from the couch, holding his hand out to me. I giggled and took it, and  he weakly pulled me to sit down. He put his arm around me and I rested my head on his.

"How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," he responded, smiling nonetheless. "But I have you so now, so I'm better."

"Shut up," I responded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I know it's only, like, 5 o clock, but can we go lay down?" he asked me, turning his head to look me in the eye. I nodded and got up, helping him push himself off of the couch.

I could tell he wasn't enjoying people having to help him do everything, but I felt too bad to just stand there and do nothing. Once we got into the bedroom, he began to struggle to get his shirt off. I quickly went to him and attempted to help lift it over his head.

"I got it," he snapped, almost shaking me off. My eyebrows pulled together as I stepped away from him. He continued to struggle with the shirt for a minute or two before he finally succeeded in getting it off. He had an irritated look on his face, but when he turned to look at me, his expression softened. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm not exactly loving this whole broken thing. Never have."

"It's okay," I responded, walking towards him and wrapping my arms around him.

"You're not doing that girl thing where you say it's okay and it's not, are you?" he questioned, looking down at me. I let out a laugh and squeezed his body.

"No, I'm not. If I have a problem, you'll be the first to know," I teased. "But I get it. I'm kind of the same way. I don't like to have to rely on someone else for anything."

I felt him nod before he pulled away to get into bed. I got in after him, and he immediately scooted to be next to me. I put my arm around him as he tucked his head into my neck.

"I have a question," he said, his breath tickling my neck.

"Ask away."