Just This Once by Evelyn Jeannie Hall

Eleven

Zane drove over to Benjamin’s penthouse feeling like something that an alley cat had dragged in. His blood prick this morning came in on the low side so he’d gulped down a protein shake, but that extra heavy feeling weighing him down wouldn’t let up. Still, he had his biannual doctor’s visit in a couple of months and calling to make his appointment for earlier seemed like overkill. These situations just happened sometimes. It was part and parcel of being born a diabetic.

Even at seven when he’d first started checking his blood himself, he’d resolved that he wouldn’t allow his condition to dominate his life any more than it had to.

Too bad it left him feeling like yesterday’s crap so often lately.

All week he’d been fighting periods of lethargy. It pissed him off because he’d taken such good care of himself. After the stupidity at Benjamin’s wedding, Zane had cut out all sugar and most carbs this summer and worked out every single day. He hadn’t missed even one insulin dose either, so having his levels fluctuate despite this annoyed him.

When he’d been a teenager, his doctors had him try an insulin pump, hoping the computer-regulated flow throughout the day would keep him stable. It had worked well enough until it started to interfere with his athletic pursuits. It was inconvenient to have to deal with a smartphone sized cartridge attached to his belt and tubing inserted into the skin of his abdomen, especially since such medical paraphernalia could easily be damaged. He had to take it off to compete, so having it became impractical. He decided to stick with his injections. Besides, sticking in that syringe whenever he needed it gave him a sense of control.

Pulling into Benjamin’s underground garage in his Range Rover, he parked and took a moment. Moving with his usual briskness felt too difficult, like his body craved a nice, long nap, but since Lacey had gone home Sunday morning, he’d managed a solid nine hours of sleep last night. He shouldn’t feel this out of it. His best bud was waiting on him for sparring practice, and he felt loathe to let him down. So, steeling himself, he stepped out and aimed for the elevator.

Ordinarily, he’d take the stairs to get the additional exercise—also, if Benjamin accompanied him, his friend’s claustrophobia made avoiding elevators imperative—but this time he gave in and went down the path of least resistance. Or up, as the case may be.

Ten floors later, he crossed to Benjamin’s door, determined to go through with his regimen. A little sluggishness was no big. Besides, he’d taught his bro everything he knew about MMA, had basically served as the man’s trainer after entering and winning amateur tournaments all throughout his undergrad and grad school days. If he could drop his opponents one after another back then, he could get through a simple sparring session now.

Zane didn’t pride himself on being a tough motherfucker for nothing. So squaring his shoulders, he bumped the doorbell. A second later, Benjamin materialized at the threshold. He must’ve been near the foyer.

“That was quick,” Zane observed.

“Yeah, didn’t want to wake Kat, she’s sleeping in.”

One side of his buddy’s mouth twitched, which was about as close as he’d ever come to boasting about sexing up his wife. Benjamin had always been classier than that. He hadn’t liked to kiss and tell even during his occasional hookup days, and since reconnecting with the girl he loved, he’d grown even more tight lipped about such things. It made the contrast of their frequent PDA more conspicuous since the two couldn’t seem to go for more than thirty minutes without smooching like a pair of teenagers, even during business hours.

Now that he had Lacey every weekend, Zane understood. Not only did he no longer have to waste time tracking down some amenable woman to rut out his frustrations with anymore, he also enjoyed the familiarity of Lacey being in his home. The week after they’d started up, he’d provided her with both a key to his building and the security code to his private door, and everything had become so easygoing between them. They had become true, honest-to-goodness friends, so he could relax and be himself with her.

Taping up their fists and donning boxing gloves, head and mouth guards, he and Benjamin treaded barefoot through the ropes of his buddy’s training ring. His best bro danced around, displaying some impressive footwork—again, something he himself had taught him—and Zane lunged forward with a one-two punch. Which his friend ducked. Feinting left and right, Benjamin appeared to be on his game this morning. Where’d he find all that energy?

Slapping his gloved hands together twice, Benjamin performed a front-thrust kick. Zane rocketed out of the way, or he’d intended to. Somehow, his torso didn’t move like he’d planned, and Benjamin made contact. Fuck, that’d leave a bruise the size of Manhattan.

“Shit, man,” his buddy slurred through his mouth guard. “You getting slow in your old age?”

Zane was all of six months older than Benjamin, who’d turned thirty-two a couple of weeks ago.

“Just allowing you to get one in, that’s all.”

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at him. “Sure, you are. Maybe this work plus sparring plus playing tutor to Lace is too much.”

His mention of Lacey jarred Zane. Benjamin wasn’t on to him and Lacey, was he? Three weeks ago, she’d started to come over to the office every Wednesday at six like clockwork, where he would legit teach her until everyone else went home. Then, they’d go to his place together.

“You gonna keep mouthing off, or you gonna get down to business?”

His bro answered with a sloppy punch Zane had no issue deflecting, and they continued on. Zane gave it his all, but he couldn’t seem to make any headway. Sweating profusely and breathing hard even though they hadn’t been at it for long, he prepared to nail his buddy with an uppercut, but again came up short. Instead, Benjamin jammed in a spinning back elbow to his temple which connected all too well. Before Zane knew it, he was peering at his friend from the mat.

What the hell happened?

“Are you all right?” Benjamin asked, his expression no longer jeering but concerned.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” was Zane’s sarcastic retort as he raised himself to his elbows to regain his bearings. It didn’t thwart his friend a single iota.

“You seem, I don’t know, unfocused. Like maybe you’re not feeling it today.”

“I’m feeling it just fine,” he insisted, a warning signal going off at the back of his psyche. His inhales and exhales were as labored as someone who’d just reemerged after being underwater for too long, and they’d only been at this for—he glanced at the clock on the wall—fifteen minutes? But throwing in the towel so early would be ridiculous.

Frowning, Benjamin took up his sparring position again, but his gaze remained watchful. Leery, even. Zane pretended not to notice. If he could only find his groove…

Somehow, he landed on the bottom of the ring again. Had Benjamin slugged him? Or had he kicked him? Zane didn’t remember.

“That’s it. We’re done here. Something is wrong.”

“No, it’s not. It’s…”

“Zane, I didn’t even strike that time. You just fell the fuck over.”

Well, shit.

“Yeah, shit,” Benjamin remarked, and Zane only then realized he’d cursed out loud. “How’s your sugar?”

Zane sighed as he sat up. Changing position made the room tilt, so he concentrated on how his black boxing gloves contrasted with the beige canvas beneath him. “Been running a bit low.”

“Santo Dios. Why the hell are you even here?”

“Because it’s a workout day.”

“Stubborn-ass pendejo. If I’d pulled a stunt like this, you’d chew me up one side and down the other,” Benjamin pointed out, which was accurate. His friend abandoned the training ring to cross to a mini fridge he kept in the corner. By the time he came back, Benjamin had removed his gloves so he could thrust a cold bottle of water at him. “Drink that, fucker, before I smack you upside the head.”

“Now you sound like Tasha.” Being the little brother had meant that his older sister Tasha had bested him more often than he liked to think about growing up. Being raised in Detroit meant never showing any weakness, so neither of them had.

Benjamin’s mouth quirked up at his expense. “How old were you the last time she did that?”

“Fourteen. That was when I started to practice my moves. After that, I was too fast for her.” His friend laughed, but it faded too soon. Zane knocked back some water and started to feel more on an even keel, but even so, Benjamin sat down next to him rather than help him up. For the first time, Zane noticed how pensive his buddy had become. “Now it’s my turn. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing except that I’m thirty-two.”

“Okay?” he didn’t get it. Thirty-two couldn’t exactly be considered ancient.

“I woke up extra early this morning, and it clicked that I’m older now than Sebastian will ever be,” Benjamin said quietly, peering down at his taped hands.

Christ. Zane hadn’t even thought about that. He knew the reason for the nine-year separation between Benjamin and Kat had been because his best friend had blamed himself for his brother committing suicide. Benjamin hadn’t even told him about it until after he and Kat’s engagement. “I’m sorry, man. That stuff been getting you down?”

“Eh…” he shrugged, tugging on one end of his tape, and Zane caught the action out of his peripheral vision. This wasn’t the best time to stare his buddy in the eye. “I just wish he was here. Wish I could tell him about Kat and me. Wish I could see him doing something he’d consider worthwhile.”

“He’s up there with your mom and my dad,” Zane replied. “I like to picture them all hanging out together around this giant wall-sized TV.” He enjoyed this image because it meant none of them would be lonely. He didn’t know what he really believed about the afterlife, but he hoped no one was up there waiting alone for the rest of their family and friends to join them.

Benjamin’s chin came up, so Zane peeked over at him. “Think your dad’s taught Sebastian about hockey?”

“Of course, man. That’s why the Red Wings do so well so often. Heavenly intervention.”

His buddy chuckled, and Zane released a silent breath. He felt steadier now, and apparently of the same opinion, Benjamin lunged to his feet and held a fist out to him. Zane stood, only taking a second to regain his bearings. He planted his bare feet and paused a beat before shoving off toward the ropes.

“What do you need, Zane?”

“Food would be good. Protein specifically.”

“I’ll make you an omelet, then. How does ham, Swiss, and kale sound?”

“Great, man.” Benjamin had become an incredible cook over the past couple of years. He even made healthy meals that included green shit like kale tasty. “Really good.”

They were quietly bullshitting around in his buddy’s kitchen when Zane heard, “Benji, I’m naked and just had a deliciously good dream. Where are you?”

Zane snorted before he could hold it back, and Benjamin dropped his spatula as he darted toward the threshold, yelling, “Zane’s here, mi alma. Remember?”

Silence reigned from the direction of their bedroom, and Zane bit his lip to keep from embarrassing Kat further. Benjamin raced out of sight, and Zane heard some low rumbles taking place between them. Should Zane leave? Or would that only make it worse? Benjamin reappeared with his wife in tow, wearing a bathrobe with her gaze on the floor. Kat Farrell-Torres didn’t embarrass often, which made Zane’s decision for him.

“Good morning, Kat. How are things going?” he asked in an overly bright voice. Benjamin sent him a stern glance, and Zane knew he should watch himself. Much as he detested this, his buddy could wipe the floor with him if he really wanted to today.

“Fine,” she muttered, and though her husband went to make her coffee, she batted Benjamin away to do it herself.

“Maybe I should go,” Zane offered.

That made her peek up at him. “Benji’s making you an omelet. You can’t go until you eat, especially since your sugar might be messed up.”

Fucking Benjamin, confiding in his spouse. Not that Kat didn’t already know about Zane’s health issues, but still. He caught his buddy’s shrewd look and frowned. Bastard was apparently willing to play dirty.

Without preamble, she then sidled up to her husband and smashed her lips against his. “Oof, Kat… Mmmm.” Their lip lock went on and on. It wasn’t just a good morning peck either, she kissed the bejesus out of him. Only after releasing Benjamin did she speak up again, her eyes full of mirth.

“Sorry. But I had to do that. It was an extremely vivid dream.” She’d pulled a fast one on Zane. Damn, she was good. And as she sent him a mischievous grin, he was struck by just how much she resembled Lacey. It made him feel an acute pang for his friend with bennies’ absence, even though they’d only been apart for less than twenty-four hours. “Well, guess I’d better go get dressed now,” Kat said airily, then traipsed away again.

“Thanks a lot…” Zane waited till Kat vanished past the doorjamb. “Asshole.”

“I’m the asshole? Why?”

“Why’d you go blab to your wife? I don’t need you two ragging on me all the time. I already have a mama.”

Benjamin jutted out his chin unrepentantly. “We’re a team,” he said simply. Zane wanted to be pissed with his buddy, he really did, but the best he could offer was a low simmer. He couldn’t begrudge the couple’s nosiness too much, even if that meant he might be included in their topics of conversation.

Kat came back dressed in her professional attire and both she and her husband watched Zane as he ate his omelet, Benjamin all but glaring at him. Within the space of five minutes, Zane could tell a difference. He’d needed more than a protein shake before jumping into the ring, that was it. It’d been a foolish miscalculation to make, but he felt much more up to par now.

So, once he arrived at the office, he pushed his shitty morning to the back burner and got to work.