Page 38 of Caged Hunger
Marcus rolled his eyes as he watched his brother-in-law walk off with his younger brother. “I really wish I could shoot that man in the face sometimes. Will you be my witness and tell the cops that he shot his own nose off by accident?” he asked his boyfriend, Gavin.
Gavin chuckled. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you inside, and you can tell me all about your boys’ trip.”
Puppy was bouncing up and down along Marcus’s leg, eagerly trying to get his daddy’s attention.
Marcus scooped up their dog and visibly settled. He threw his arm around his man’s shoulders and led them inside.
The rest of the guys followed.
“So? Boys’ trip? Did you have fun?” Cameron asked, nudging Basher in the ribs with his elbow.
Basher growled. “I’m going to have nightmares of Blade’s chewing and Caden’s snoring for the next few days.”
“Oh, you didn’t get your own rooms?”
“Marcus did. He threatened to murder anyone who followed him into his room. So Caden and I decided to share, and Blade decided to follow us into our room for a few drinks, then ended up passed out in the chair with a bottle of whiskey between his legs.” Basher looked around to make sure that no one was listening before looking back at Cameron. “I think that boy might have something wrong with him upstairs. Did you know that his best friends are knives?”
Cameron nodded with a smile on his face. “Daggers, actually. I’m surprised he hasn’t named them.”
Basher thought about Arlene. Did that make him weird as well? He did feel a strange connection to the cold, aluminum object.
Holding the back door to the bar open for Cameron, Basher followed him inside. The rest of the guys had disappeared to God knows where.
“So, what about you? What are you up to?” Basher asked, leaning against the large table set up in the back room of the bar.
“Actually, I’m heading out in a few. Got some things I need to get done.”
“Oh, right. It’s Wednesday night,” Basher noted, nodding his head.
“Umm… yeah?”
Did Basher know about his secret visits with his mom? He never told anyone about his mother or their weekly routines.
Basher’s cheeks suddenly blushed, and he quickly looked away.
Something strange was going on.
But either way, if he wanted to make it to the grocery store and then to his mother’s place on time, he needed to get moving.
“Okay… well, I’m going to head out. I’m glad you’re back safe and sound,” Cameron said, giving Basher a squeeze on the arm as he slipped past him to go grab his stuff.
After picking up some groceries, Cameron headed over to the assisted living home to see his mother and make her a home-cooked meal.
Cameron had arranged with the facility that twice a week, he and his mother would have access to the kitchen to cook their meal together after everyone else had finished their dinner. The staff didn’t mind. As long as they cleaned up after themselves, the staff was pretty flexible in accommodating their requests.
Cameron’s mother had Alzheimer’s. It started about two years ago and steadily worsened over the years.
She had her good days and her bad days. Since it was just Cameron around, he needed help taking care of his mother. Six months ago, he decided to place her in a home that could provide him with that assistance.
It was one of the hardest decisions he’d ever had to make. After the last time she walked off while he was at work, it took him twelve hours to finally find her at an abandoned bus stop, just sitting there, waiting for a bus to take her to the job she no longer held.
After that terrifying experience, he decided he could no longer care for her on his own and made arrangements for her to move into the assisted care facility where she was currently living.
He hated seeing her there. Most of the other residents were retired and in their late seventies and eighties—a good twenty to thirty years older than she was. But what could he do?
At least at this facility, there were people around her twenty-four seven, always watching out for her and ready to help if she ever needed it.
That sort of security also came with a hefty price tag.
