“I am,” Finn confirmed.
“I won’t let Jarrett know,” Branson said, “but, yes, I’m scared. I’ve looked at the stats and wish I hadn’t.”
“All we can do is pray.” Finn took a large gulp of his bitter brew, as if he were somehow sharing in Jarrett’s suffering.
“Jarrett’s mother is coming to stay with him.” Bran stretched and yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Maybe he’d rather have one of his buddies with him,” Cole suggested.
“Of the three of us, I’m probably the most nurturing,” Bran remarked. “And I’m not all that impressive. I think he’s better off with his mother.”
“Isn’t she old, though?” Cole took another sip from his cup, his face contorting.
“I think she’s in her sixties.” Bran checked the time on his Braille watch, prompting Finn to look at the clock on the wall. 3:25 p.m. According to the surgeon who’d just given them a report, Jarrett was in recovery and would be in a room by 4:00.
“Same age as my mum,” Finn commented. “Jarrett said she lifts weights and runs marathons. I guess she can handle it.”
“Wonder why she isn’t here, now,” Cole mumbled.
“Probably because Jarrett told her it was only a biopsy.” Finn tried gulping the coffee, hoping to skip over the taste buds that detected bitterness on the back of his tongue. It didn’t work.
“He said she’s flying in today.” Bran rubbed his eyes. “Cole, I think I’ve changed my mind. If you don’t mind getting another one, I do want a cup of coffee.”
“No, you don’t,” Finn and Cole said, in unison.
Exhausted, Finn and Cole arrived back in New York, walking into the penthouse apartment like zombies. Finn set his alarm an hour later than usual, opting to skip his morning workout. But when morning came, he barely dragged himself out of bed to start his morning therapy. His coughing had woken him up all during the night, and after an hour of treatment to loosen the mucous, it seemed he couldn’t manage to clear his chest.
He continued his morning routine, still coughing, and an hour later found Cole at the breakfast table, practically asleep over a bowl of cereal.
“Morning.” Finn’s first word of the day set off another coughing fit. “Sorry,” he managed, between coughs.
“You had a rough night, huh?”
“You could hear me coughing?” Finn pushed the button to make a fresh cup of coffee.
“Only when I went down the hall to get a drink of water. Believe me, I fell right back to sleep.”
“Yeah, I don’t feel too good. Not surprising, after yesterday.”
“You’re not getting sick, are you?”
“I shouldn’t be. I wore my mask the whole time we were at the hospital.” Finn sat down at the table, sipping his brew. He lifted his mug toward Cole. “Nice to have a decent cup of coffee.”
“Amen, brother. I promise never to take good coffee for granted again.” Cole took a sip from his own cup with an expression of ecstasy. “You’re not just having coffee for breakfast, are you?”
“No. I usually push about 1200 calories or more at breakfast. Bacon, sausage, eggs, and such. You want something besides cereal?”
“Too early for me to eat like that.”
“I guess I’d better eat fast. It’ll be eight o’clock by the time we get to work, especially since we aren’t early enough to miss rush-hour traffic.” Finn fell into yet another round of bone-shattering coughs.
“Maybe you should stay home today,” Cole suggested.
“You know I can’t do that with Jarrett out.” Finn grabbed some juice from the refrigerator and poured a tall glass. “I’ll be fine. I’m just a little tired.”
“Okay. You know your body by now.”
He did. And that’s why he was worried.