Early the following Saturday morning, Marc sat on their king-sized bed as Adam packed his bag. “Adam, is there anything I can help with?”
“No, thanks.” His tone was flat.
Marc swallowed at the lump in his throat. “There’s no benefit in you being stressed. It doesn’t make things better.”
Adam threw some pants against the wall. “f**k! It’s not fair. My dad has always been healthy. He watched his weight, exercised, never smoked. So why the hell does he need bypass heart surgery?”
Marc got the thrown jeans, handed them to Adam, and pulled him into a hug. “I can’t explain it, but it does no good for you to be stressed.” He wanted to say it, the words he knew would soothe Adam’s angst. Marc’s tongue again failed him. “I’ll miss you. Call anytime you need to talk. I don’t know what the time d
