Crazy Love (mxm)

Chapter Twenty-One

Carter's POV

Rocco wasn't having it. "Look, Carter, I wish...but I don't know. I'll talk to the bossman, but no promises, okay?"

I sighed in defeat. "Okay. You'll let me know, right?"

"Of course, man," he reassured me over the line. "And if it doesn't work out, I hope he finds one soon."

"Thanks, man. Have a good one."

"Yeah, you too."

I hung up the phone with a grimace and went back to packing Ronan's bag with snacks.

It was probably a bad thing to be asking my friends if they knew of any job openings for James, but I couldn't help it. The days where I could walk away from this man were gone. I wanted to see him succeed.

I looked in the direction of stairs with a grimace. We were supposed to spend the day at the park, because I knew a few of Ronan's friends from our Mommy's group would be there.

Ronan slowly descended the stairs, as usual, practically clinging to the railing. "Daddy, Game id seepy."

I was too busy worrying to congratulate Ronan on his half-understandable speech. "Thanks, peanut, I'll go get him."

I opened the door to my bedroom, unsurprised to find the lights off and James buried under a pile of blankets. "The world is burning," he groaned.

"You don't have to go," I blurted. "I got Ronan ready, but—"

James rolled, groaning. "No, no, I'm going. I just thought an extra twenty minutes would make the Advil kick in."

My stomach twisted in knots. He'd been staying at the house for the last three days, just so he wouldn't crack. The first day had been hardly more than off and on complaints of headaches and nausea, but it was getting worse. And he was trying to hide it.

James held up his phone, a shaky smile on his face. "I googled it, and I'm not an alcoholic. Unfortunately, I'm dying."

That, at least, startled a laugh out of me. "What do you mean?"

"Well." He squinted at the screen. "It has a list of things that make intervention necessary, and I've only met the requirements for half of them. Well, more than half if you count hospitalization, but that wasn't really because of the alcohol. I just tripped."

"...I hate to say it, but it kind of sounds like you're probably an alcoholic if you have over half of the things," I pointed out, smiling enough to let him know I wasn't upset or anything.

James rolled his eyes and patted the bed. "Come sit near me. I'm an alcoholic and I'm dying."

"You're not dying," I insisted, plopping next to him. "And I need to go see Ronan before he does something dangerous. Which gives us like one more minute max."

"Look—I'm dying, see the WebMD page?" He shoved his phone in my face. "I have all those symptoms, which are the mild ones. And then look at the severe ones! Do I have a racing heart? Yes, especially when I kiss you. Do I have heavy sweating? Absolutely, when we have sex. Do I have confusion, whatever that means? Yes, but that's me all the time, so—"

"Oh my God!" I laughed and shoved him. "Stop it, I was worried. Look, it says the people who die have seizures and hallucinations. You're fine."

James cuddled up next to me and my heart beat faster. He was warm though; and his face was red. "My Carter. Let's go to the park."

"Well, you look like you have a fever. And the WebMD page says the best treatment is a quiet, dark place that's far from people—"

"Sorry, WebMD, but I don't own the batcave." James stood up and stretched. "I'll take a few more Advil and then we're outta here."