by Andi Van
“But?” I asked. I had a feeling things didn’t go well.
“He threatened you,” Brandon whispered. “He said if some ‘cocksucking faggot’ was going to get him in trouble, he was going to make sure you could never tell tales again. I asked him why he’d done what he did, and he told me if you were going to advertise that you were a fag, you obviously wanted it.”
Oh dear God. No wonder Brandon had spent so long hating himself. “Yeah. Well, your ex-best friend was a fucking bigot,” I said. “And probably a closet case. But I’m sorry it happened.”
“Probably,” Brandon agreed. “But I started to hate myself for everything. First I hated myself for feeling the way I did about him, because he thought it was disgusting. So it was obviously wrong for me to be attracted to him, you know? But I also hated myself for letting him talk about you the way he did. I hated myself for not sticking up for you, for not telling him that there was nothing wrong with you. And I hated myself for knowing that the reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want him to know about me too. I hated myself for blaming you for what happened when I knew you’d never have done what he said you did. And after a while, all the hate just builds up. It’s not an easy thing to let go of.”
“Well, you need to,” I told him. “I was hurt when you blamed me for what happened, sure. But you’re my brother. Up until that point, you’d never let me down. You were always looking out for me. So it was actually really easy to eventually forgive you for that. I just wish we’d had this conversation long before now.”
“I’m so sorry I let myself make you the focus of my blame,” Brandon said. “I’ve wanted things to be like they used to be for a long time now, but I didn’t know how to stop being such an asshole. And then Marcus told me—”
“Wait,” I said. “You’ve been talking to Marcus about this?”
“Well yeah,” Brandon said, bumping his shoulder against me. “Your boyfriend’s a pretty great guy. He loves you a lot and he’s a really good friend. Anyway he told me that if I really wanted to be back in your life, all I had to do was be myself, without all the anger. So I’ve been trying to let it go. I even started seeing a therapist.”
“I’m glad,” I sighed. “I think it’ll help. It sounds like Roddie left you with a lot of baggage that you need to sort out, and I’m proud of you for taking that step.”
“Yeah?” Brandon asked, his face a little red.
“Yeah,” I said and gave him a smile. “Now hurry up and eat my breakfast.”
Bran laughed, and the sound made me want to weep with happiness. It had been forever since I’d heard that. “You should have some, you know. It’s really good.”
“I know it is,” I said. “But I don’t think I could stomach food right now.”
“He’ll be okay,” Brandon said as he started to dig in again.
“He’d better be,” I sighed. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
We sat in silence—Bran because he was eating and me because I wasn’t feeling particularly chatty—but at least the silence was comfortable. A lot of the tension between us had drained away.
“You should hang out with us,” I said eventually. “You know, come over, play video games, just chill.”
Brandon looked at me and smiled a little. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” I said with a nod. I smiled a little wider when Jordan walked into the room. “What’s up, man? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “I was too worried. But hey, I met this awesome girl as I was coming into the building….”
I groaned. “Seriously? You hit on someone at the hospital?”
“What? It’s not like she’s a patient or something. She was outside on her phone, and I accidentally bumped her. She’s waiting for her assistant to get checked out.” His grin widened. “She’s a yoga instructor. Just imagine how flexible she must be.”
I groaned again and rubbed my face. “Jordan….”
“We exchanged phone numbers,” he added, still grinning.
“You never stop, do you?” Brandon asked with a laugh.
I set myself up to launch into a lecture, but I stopped when I heard a noise to my left. I looked over to see Marcus gazing back at me, his eyes mostly shut. I leaped out of my chair and balanced on my good foot so I could lean over him. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey,” Marcus croaked.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him, trying not to cry as I did. I’d done enough of that.
“Shitty,” he answered. “I’m in the hospital.”
“I know,” I said with a laugh that more than half sounded like a sob. “Your car plowed into a tree. You broke an arm, knocked your noggin pretty damn good, fractured some ribs, and tried to turn one of your lungs into swiss cheese. They had to operate on you.”
“Fucking sucks,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, that was my sentiment when I heard,” I said dryly.
“So sorry,” he grunted, squeezing my hand. “Never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, it’s not like I wasn’t expecting us to have a fight eventually,” I said. “But man, we fight dirty. Can we not do that again for a while? Maybe another five or ten years?”
Marcus nodded and gave me a weak grin. “So tired.”
“I know,” I told him. “We’ll hurry up and get you home, and you can curl up in my bed. We can sit back and watch TV and eat ice cream together. I won’t even bitch when you snore.”
“Perfect,” Marcus said. “Love you.”
The tears that I’d refused to cry earlier made an appearance, this time escaping to drip down my face. After worrying I’d never hear him say those words again, I didn’t really care how emotional I was acting. “I love you too, gorgeous.”
We spoke softly for a while until Tate came back to check on us. He was glad to see Marcus awake, if only because maybe I’d quit whining. He fetched the doctor, who spoke with Marcus about what had happened and what had been done to him in the operating room. I didn’t think he’d actually remember what the doctor said, so I tried to commit it to memory to repeat later. Considering I wasn’t in much better shape, I was glad Brandon and Jordan were listening too.
The doctor went through the details of Marcus’s treatment and said, “You should also be aware that, because there were some relatively serious injuries involved with this crash, the police are doing an accident investigation. Now that you’re awake, they’re going to want to come in and talk to you about what happened.”
Marcus nodded his understanding, and more than one emotion flashed across his face. I didn’t like the anger I saw momentarily because I had a feeling it meant his sister had been involved, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I heard the doctor granting us permission to give Marcus ice chips, and I smiled as Brandon immediately left to go fetch them.
“Brandon’s your brother?” the doctor asked.
“Yeah,” I acknowledged. “Older brother.”
“He’s an excellent student.”
“He’s an excellent brother too,” I said with a smile.
The doctor returned the smile, gave me a nod, and departed.
“So, am I in the Twilight Zone?” Jordan asked. “You and Bran are speaking again?”
“We were always speaking,” I protested. “Just now it’ll probably involve less profanity.”
“Not likely. I’ve heard the way you talk,” Jordan snickered. “But hey, I guess this is your silver lining, yeah?”
“Glad,” Marcus mumbled, his eyes closed. “Good guy.”
“Yeah, he is,” I agreed. Because really, he was. He was confused and had a lot of issues to work through, but he had always been a good guy.
Brandon came back relatively quickly with the ice, and I was able to get Marcus to take a spoonful. I hated to keep him from going back to sleep, but I knew from experience his throat had to already feel like hell from the tubes and crap they shove down when you’re having surgery. Better to try to rehydrate than to hav
e him wake up with it even worse.
Once he’d finished with the spoonful of ice, I set the cup down. “Want to go back to sleep?”
“Tired,” Marcus answered. “Yeah.”
“All right,” I said and brushed his hair back. “I’ll let you sleep.”
“Thanks,” Marcus said. “Ollie?”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, glad to hear him use his preferred nickname for me. “Yeah, love?”
“Wasn’t my fault,” he murmured. “Was Delilah.”
I exchanged a look with Jordan and Brandon and chose my next words carefully. “What was Delilah?” I asked.
“Said if I was gone, Davis would come back to her. Grabbed the steering wheel.”
I was going to kill her. I was going to hunt down that skanky little skeeze and pull her apart a piece at a time. “She made you crash?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
“Yeah,” Marcus answered.
“Okay,” I told him, hoping he couldn’t tell how enraged I was. “You remember that so you can tell the cops when they come by, okay? For now, though, you need to sleep.”
“You were right,” he whispered and drifted off.
Yeah. I’d apparently been right about his sister, but I’d have given anything to have been wrong. “I’ll fucking kill her,” I growled.
“No you won’t,” Jordan said. “You won’t do Marcus any good if you’re in jail. We’ll let the police handle her.”
“She could have killed him,” I said.
Brandon grabbed my arm. “Calm down,” he cautioned. “If you start to panic again, I’ll make them sedate you or something.”
I gave him a look of confusion. “What’s the ‘or something’?”
“I dunno. I was just trying to get you to calm down,” he admitted. “I thought about threatening you by telling you I’d have someone give you an enema, but then I was worried you might actually like that idea.”
I choked on a surprised laugh. “God, you’re an asshole.”
“Great. So now we’ve moved from enemas to assholes,” Jordan supplied. “I think we need to change this conversation before it gets just a little too weird for me.”
“Too late,” Brandon and I said as one, and we both started snickering.
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Since I’ve seen for myself that Marcus is going to be okay, I’m going home to go back to bed. You ought to come with me,” he said, looking at me. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”
“I am,” I admitted. “But I’m not leaving. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”
Brandon shook his head, went to the room’s small closet, and pulled out another pillow and a blanket. “Here,” he said, thrusting the items at me. “These might help.”
“Well hell, I wish I’d known they were there earlier,” I grumbled. “Would have made napping a lot easier.”
“Yeah, well, you always did have to do things the hard way,” Brandon said with a grin. “See if you can catch a nap. I’m going to go home too. I’ll let Mom and Dad know what’s going on.”
“Thanks,” I said. I dropped back into my chair and tucked the pillow behind my head. Yeah. The pillow made things infinitely better. I said my good-byes to Jordan and Bran, tucked the blanket around me, and was almost immediately asleep.
CHAPTER 18
“SHE SAID she’d been with Davis, and they’d gotten into a fight,” Marcus told the two police officers who stood at the foot of his bed. His voice was weak, and he was still being given oxygen via a tube under his nose, but at least they didn’t have a mask on his face. “She told me that he dumped her out of his car in front of the diner I work at, and asked if I could give her a ride home. She was waiting for me when I got there, and I started heading back to her apartment. Halfway there she said she was sorry, but I was in the way of her happiness. Before I could ask what she meant, she grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it to one side. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up here.”
I had a hard time listening to him recount what had caused the accident. Had his sister actually meant to kill him? If Marcus was quoting her exactly, I had a feeling that was the case. The thought gave me chills. I must have visibly shivered, because Marcus squeezed my hand a little tighter.
“That corresponds with what Mr. Vincent reported,” the officer said with a nod.
That was the real shocker. Davis, it seems, had told Delilah he wanted nothing to do with her, and she got it in her head that he didn’t want her because he still had feelings for Marcus. Apparently the moment Delilah was released from the hospital, she went straight to Davis’s house to tell him she’d “taken care of” Marcus so he wouldn’t come between them anymore. It turned out that Davis wasn’t as stupid as I thought he was, and immediately called the cops. From the sound of it, Delilah was, at that moment, cooling her heels at the police station.
Thing was, Davis denied doing any of the things that had been happening to me—the damage to my car, the brick through the window, the shove at the fair, the possum entrails—and I’d wondered aloud to the officers if she’d had anything to do with those occurrences as well. They’d told me they’d check on it. Everyone had assumed that, since the harassment started after Marcus’s very public declaration, it must have been Davis. But it seemed like it actually had nothing to do with that, at all. It would make a sick, twisted sort of sense that Delilah would want to hurt me because that, in turn, would hurt Marcus—much like she thought Marcus had hurt her.
Either way, the chick was psycho. We’d already agreed it wouldn’t come as a surprise if she wasn’t pregnant, but was trying to force Davis to stay with her. At least, we hoped that was the case, since we wouldn’t want to wish a mother like that on any child.
I squeezed Marcus’s hand and let go so I could stand and grab my crutches. “I’m going to go get a soda and let you finish here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I felt like kind of a shit for needing to step out of the room and take a few deep breaths, but Marcus seemed to understand. He smiled at me and gave a small nod. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be right here, and your mom will make sure I don’t try to sneak out.”
Mom had taken up residence on the other side of Marcus’s bed, and she laughed. “We’ll be fine,” she assured me. “Go ahead.”
I nodded at them, then to the officers, and slowly made my way into the hall. I would make my way to the soda machine and back, and by then I’d have managed to get my emotions under control. I hoped that was the case, anyway.
I took my time, both because I had to gather my thoughts, and because fatigue was making me clumsy with the crutches. The last thing we needed was for me to end up in a bed next to Marcus because I’d done more damage to my ankle.
Ten or so minutes later, I made my way back with a can of soda tucked into the pocket of my hoodie, only to have two furious-looking women storm past me. I narrowed my eyes at them and realized they held a good bit of resemblance to my boyfriend.
Oh fuck no, I was not going to let his mother and his older sister get their hands on him. I rushed back, trying not to slip and land on my face as I did. As I neared Marcus’s room, I could hear the yelling. Why the hell weren’t those cops stopping them?
“You’re a disgrace to your family. How dare you do this to your sister.”
Holy shit. My boyfriend’s family was full of morons. “He didn’t do this to his sister,” I growled as I shuffled back into the room. The cops were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed they’d left when I went to get a soda. “She did this to her own fucking self. What you fail to see is that she tried to kill your son, you brainless twat.”
“Zachary,” my mother admonished, though she was trying to keep from laughing. “Language.”
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” the older woman that I assumed was my boyfriend’s mother demanded.
“I’m his fucking boyfriend,” I said, moving to get right into her face. “I’m also the person with the authority to have you thrown the fuck o
ut of this room. So if you have something to say, say it nicely.”
The damn bitch actually reached out and pushed me away from her, making my crutches slip. I landed hard on my ass and gasped as the air was knocked out of me. Marcus let out a noise that would probably have been a bellow if his chest weren’t hurting so badly. My mom held him down by the shoulder. Then she stood and walked over to go nose to upturned nose with Marcus’s mother. “You need to leave,” she said pleasantly. For those who didn’t know her, the tone held no threat. For those who did know her, it was a sign she was about to go into mama-bear mode. “Marcus is part of our family, and you don’t need to concern yourself with him ever again. If he wants to speak to you, that’s his business, but he’s my boy now, and I won’t let you hurt him anymore.”
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Marcus’s mother screamed. “That little monster needs to be thrown in jail for what he did to his sister. I won’t leave until I see that happen.”
I finally managed to catch my breath. I sighed. Marcus held up the call button and tilted his head at me questioningly. I nodded, and he hit the button.
“Is there something you need, Marcus?” the question crackled over the intercom.
Oh thank God. Tate was on duty. “Tate, can you send security in here? There are two women in Marcus’s room who need to be escorted out of the hospital. Now. If the two officers who were here are still in the building, send them please.”
“Right away, Zach,” Tate said.
“Here’s the deal,” I told Marcus’s mother from where I sat on the floor. “We’re going to get the cops back in here. You go ahead and tell them exactly why you want Marcus arrested. And then I’m going to file whatever charges I can against you, since you shoved an injured man.”
“She did this?”
I looked up and smiled at the officers. “You guys must have just left before they got here, huh?”
“Apparently we should have stuck around another few minutes,” one of them said. “You said she shoved you?”
“Yep. Crutches went one way, I went another. Do you think you can help me up?”