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Can’t Come Out
Ben had come the moment he heard about the emergency—another blow. It had only been a week since Matt woke up. But he hadn’t gone in.
He told himself it was timing. Space. But the truth was simpler: he couldn’t.
Through the glass, Lucy sat by Matt’s bed, her hand on his arm as she spoke low.
Matt didn’t react much—a cast and sling held his right wrist, eyes fixed somewhere past the wall. His leg stayed buried under the sheets, post-op again—this time for the infection.
Leaning in again, Lucy said something else. Matt turned toward her—and for a second, Ben thought his eyes had flicked to him. He couldn’t tell.
Whatever Lucy said, it landed. Matt’s fingers eased.
He didn’t watch the rest.
The rescue replayed like always. Every anchor, every step. Nothing wrong on record. But the doubt never cleared. If he’d lifted wrong. If he’d twisted something. If he’d—
The door slid open.
“How long have you been there?”
“Not long.”
Lucy didn’t look convinced, but she left it like that. Somehow that made it worse.
“He’s resting now. Fever finally went down.”
Ben nodded.
“You can go in, you know. He asked about you.”
“Didn’t want to bother him,” he muttered.
“You’re not a bother,” she said, more pointed now. “You’re his friend.”
Friend. That was all he was, and even that felt undeserved.
“I’m getting coffee. Don’t make him wait too long.”
As she passed, she gave his shoulder a quick pat.
He didn’t go in. Matt was right there, and he still couldn’t reach him.
Josh paced the living room, arms crossed, tracking the clock in five-second intervals. Midnight slipped past. The door opened.
“You didn’t call.”
“Yeah. Sorry. The hospital—”
“Right. The place you basically live now.” Josh didn’t wait. “You could’ve sent one message. Something. I’m not asking for a play-by-play, just…” He shook his head. “Forget it.”
“You know why I’m there, Josh.”
“Yeah. Matt. Matt who apparently matters more than anything else. I’ve got that part down.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You want to be fair? You drop everything the second he needs you. Every time. And I get it—he’s your best friend, he’s hurt, you’re scared. But what does that make me in the meantime?“
“It’s not like that,” Ben said. “He’s like family.”
“That’s the story you’re sticking with.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Sure,” he gave a grunt. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like there’s more to this than you’re willing to say.”
The glance that followed was fast—too fast.
“I’ve been trying to be patient. I’ve been trying not to ask the wrong questions. But if I’m always going to come second to someone you can’t even talk about—then what are we doing?”
“You don’t understand.”
“No. I think I do. You’re just not ready to admit it.”
He started for the door.
“Figure your shit out,” he said. “Because whatever this is? It’s not fair to either of us.”
Ben didn’t stop him.
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