by Anna Zabo
The doctor didn’t even blink. “I’ll have a nurse come and take care of it.” He breezed out with the same speed he’d come in.
Of course. Which meant it would take another fifteen hours. Ray closed his eyes. “I’m never getting out of here.”
“You will,” Zavier said. He patted Ray’s leg again.
“God, I like that. You touching me. Feels like I can take on the world when I know you’re there.”
Zavier grunted. “Here.” He picked at one of the leather bracelets that always seemed to be tied around his wrist lately, except in the shower, and freed it. Next thing Ray knew, it was tied around his ankle. “A little reminder of me for when I can’t touch you.”
Like the string that was gone, but better. Fire was chased by calm, and Ray settled back against the bed. “I like that.”
“Like a tiny cuff.”
“Exactly.”
Didn’t take fifteen hours, but it did take nearly forty-five minutes before a nurse came to remove the IV catheter from his hand, and then another forty-five before Ray was handed his discharge papers. He’d also been prescribed a medicine to take to help counterbalance the shit Carl had given him. Getting that took time, too. But eventually he was allowed to leave.
Thank god.
By the time they got a cab and drove back to the hotel, the medicine had taken effect and Ray could barely keep his eyes open. “Not fair,” he murmured as he leaned against Zavier as they rode up the elevator. “I spent most of the day in bed.”
“But it’ll be a giant hotel bed with no machines and no IV.”
“You won’t stick any needles in me.”
A laugh. “No needles. No. Not at all my kink.”
“Good.” Ray couldn’t be happier about that. That kind of pain wasn’t his thing. “Join me in bed?” He missed Zavier. Wanted him near. Needed to feel his warmth.
“It’s still pretty early. I’d be a mess in bed. Tossing and turning.”
True. It had been after five when they’d left the hospital, far too early for most people to sleep, unless they were hopped up on drugs.
When they reached their floor, Zavier maneuvered him—really half carried him—to their joined rooms. Ray had trouble seeing straight enough to walk. His head was mush and all he wanted to do was close his eyes. “Holy shit, this stuff is strong.”
“Well, they gave you something pretty powerful. I bet Benadryl knocks you on your ass, doesn’t it? This is worse.” Zavier keyed them in.
“Yeah. I just don’t want to sleep.”
“Best thing to get your system back in shape.”
When they made it into the room, rather than being alone, both Mish and Dom were there.
Surprisingly, Dom was dressed down, even for him. Shorts and a T-shirt. “Dude, did you spring him and go to a bar to celebrate or something?”
Ray groaned. “Fuck you. I’m not drunk.”
“They doped him up with some powerful stuff to counteract anything left in his system.” Zavier sounded like he was laughing.
“Bastard,” Ray murmured. “Why is everyone here?”
“Mmmhmm. I am a bastard.” A moment later, Zavier deposited Ray on the end of the bed. “And they wanted to see you. Same as me, last night.”
“Hey, kiddo. You look better.” Mish patted his knee.
Dom snickered. “Except for that goofy smile.”
“’S not goofy. I’m happy. I’m here.” Ray flopped his arms out, and man, the bed felt good. Cool. Soft. “With everyone I love.”
He did love them all. Especially Zavier. Head over heels. Hard enough that it scared him and if it scared him, it would probably terrify Zavier. Still, he should tell him, explain that he didn’t expect anything in return—but Zavier should know how he felt.
That was only fair. Tell the truth. They’d said they would.
Mish and Dom both said their good-nights. The next few minutes—hours? Whatever. They were a blur of movement and commands and getting undressed and under the covers. So perfect. Crisp. Clean. The bed was heaven.
He cracked his eyes open and found Zavier watching him. “Stay?”
Zavier cupped his face. “I’m not leaving you.”
Good. That was enough. Ray closed his eyes and fell into blessed darkness.
* * *
Zavier had watched Ray fall asleep, then peeled off his dress wear and taken a long, hot shower before finding more comfortable clothes. A T-shirt. Jeans. Once dressed, he stepped into the other hotel room and left the joining door cracked for when Ray woke up, because chances were he’d come looking for someone once the drugs wore off.
But right now, both Mish and Dom were sitting on the bed, waiting for him.
Mish spoke first. “How is he really?”
“The doctor said he’d be fine. The stuff Carl used should be more or less out of his system, but the drugs the hospital gave him will make sure there’s nothing lingering that will cause issues. Kind of a precaution.”
“He could use the rest,” Dom said. There was a thoughtfulness to his look, and that sharpened the longer he stared at Zavier. “What about you?”
“Me?” Zavier worked to school his features, even as his brain tried to turn the past twenty-four hours over in his head.
Dom straightened and suddenly looked nothing like either the shy musician or the imposing rock star. He didn’t even look like a twink on the prowl. No, he had the posture of an equal. A friend—a very concerned friend. “This whole thing hasn’t been easy on you, either. How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know yet.” That was the most truthful answer. “I haven’t had time to sit down and think.”
Mish rose from the bed and crossed the room. She held out her arms in invitation, and Zavier gave in, letting her hug him—welcoming the touch. If they could see he was out of sorts, he really did need to get away for a little bit and churn though all the thoughts in his head.
She brushed her hand against his hair. “You’re a good man, Zav. And Ray cares a great deal for you.”
He took the compliment, and it warmed him. “I know he does.” He pulled back. “And thank you.”
She patted him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, too, kiddo.”
Dom chuckled. “She means that. Or you won’t hear the end of it.”
That also warmed him. Their camaraderie. Many of the musicians he’d worked with in the symphony had found him somewhat cold as he fought to prove himself as a young and talented musician in a sea of talent—and that had put up barriers, which meant that he’d never really formed friendships there.
Here, they’d had to stick together, from day one. Mish and Dom were his friends. Ray, too, of course, but in a different way.
How different? God, his whole body itched. That was exactly the question, wasn’t it? How different was Ray from everyone else, and why? His head was a fucking mess. Part of him wanted to ignore the spinning of his mind, push on, and be here for everyone.
You can’t. You’re useless like this.
“Zav?” Mish interrupted his thoughts. “What do you need from us?”
Nothing. Wait. “Give me a minute.” He rummaged through the desk and found hotel stationery. No one sent letters anymore, but hell, they always left this stuff anyway in nice places. He scrawled out a short, simple note, put it in an envelope with Ray’s name on it and sealed it up. “Can you give this to Ray if he wakes before I come back? I need to get some fresh air.”
Mish took the note. “Of course.”
He made sure he had a keycard and his wallet, nodded at the two of them, and took off out the door.
I’m not running. Okay, so he was running, but not away. He’d return. He just needed to wander for a while.
Rather than the elevator, he took the stairs all the way to the ground floor, then followed a corridor in the opposit
e direction of the arrow pointed toward the lobby, until he found himself at a loading dock. He let the door slam closed and lock behind him.
The alley led to a main street, and he chose the direction at random and walked. And walked some more. He turned corners on a whim. Stopped and studied window displays without really even seeing what was in them.
Ray. He couldn’t get that singular moment out of his head. Ray stumbling to him, terrified. Unable to speak. Falling into his arms. The swirl of people. Time standing still.
Zavier hadn’t been able to help. Only that wasn’t entirely true. He’d made space for the people who had helped. For Mish and for Dom. For the paramedics and the police. He blinked at the store window—stationery—and turned away.
Keep walking. Don’t think. Except he couldn’t stop thinking, and that struggle led him straight to a car rental place below a garage.
Zavier slowed and stared. Driving did clear his head, or at least gave him the space he needed to puzzle things out. So much of his high school years had been filled with drives once he’d gotten his license. His parents had been understanding about that, in retrospect.
So he went in and rented a car. They took no notice of his name, and the paperwork was quick. The rental guy pulled around the compact car that would be Zavier’s, and within fifteen minutes, he was on the road. Didn’t take him long to find an interstate. Then he drove and drove as his mind replayed Ray falling into his arms. The ambulance pulling away. Carl’s red face.
He’d been there for Ray but unable to help, and that bore into him like fire. If Ray had been anyone else, maybe it wouldn’t have caused such terror. Maybe that dark pit in his gut wouldn’t be there.
But Ray wasn’t like anyone else to Zavier. That was a problem.
Zavier knew who he was, knew his own tastes and needs and desires, or lack thereof. But Ray threw him. There was so much about Ray he enjoyed, and not only the sex and the kink. The friendship. The music. His smile. Every damn thing. Watching him closing in on death’s door? That had been too much. Far too much.
He needed Ray. Didn’t want to be without Ray.
Zavier couldn’t find answers to calm the turmoil in his head, nor were there any brilliant insights on the road, so he just kept driving.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Waking up in a hotel room was far easier than it had been in the hospital. Awareness seeped into Ray like it normally did. The sound of a minifridge and an air conditioner. The soft sheets and too many pillows. No lights being turned on at odd hours or that strange antiseptic hospital smell.
He stretched and opened his eyes. The room was dim, but the brightness of the light around the curtains told him it was day—which meant he’d slept through the night.
He was also alone in bed. Alone in the room, too. Worry gnawed at him like hunger. He’d expected Zavier to be here. Maybe...maybe that wasn’t right. Except they’d not been too far apart since the start of the tour and rarely out of sight since they’d started their kinky relationship.
Then again, had the situation been reversed, he’d probably have given Zav space to sleep and recover. He threw back the sheets, and stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom.
There was nothing but hotel shampoo, lotion, and soap on the counter—Zavier’s toiletry bag was missing. The shower was dry. Hell, the toilet paper roll still had those folds the cleaning staff put into them. The gnawing inside Ray turned sharp and painful.
Zavier wasn’t here.
He could, however, be in the next room. No need to panic. Once Ray’d washed his hands, he made his way back into the bedroom, found his own luggage, and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. The door to the adjoining hotel room was open, and the other door cracked—an invitation. He pushed it open, hoping to find Zav.
But it was Mish curled up on the bed with her laptop. When she looked up, Ray’s heart dropped to the floor and he gripped the doorframe. Words didn’t come, not with that mixture of relief and worry and sadness flowing through Mish’s expression.
Oh god.
“Hey, hon.” Soft words. “How are you feeling?”
“Where’s Zav?” His voice was a mess. Too dry, too full of agony. He watched her like a hawk.
Shoulders dropped. “He went out for a while.” Same concerned voice. “He left a note.”
Fuck. Ray’s legs wobbled and the world wanted to crash down. “A note?”
Mish could move fast when she wanted to, because she was off the bed in a heartbeat and wrapping Ray into a warm hug before he could even turn and flee into the room behind him.
“Sweetheart, no. No. It’s not like that.” She drew him into the adjoining room, and there were Zavier’s bags. Seemingly untouched, but there. “He was really shaken up by you—” She cut herself off.
He sat when Mish pulled him down to the bed next to her, and memories came back. Not of that night, but of waking up in the hospital and of Zavier’s explanation of what had happened. “He was shaken up by me nearly dying.”
A nod.
Ray closed his eyes. Yeah, that made sense. Couldn’t have been easy—and imagining himself in Zavier’s position only drove his pulse higher. He’d have been a fucking wreck. Zav, at least, had control and poise.
Ray flicked his eyes back open. “I don’t even know what time it is. How long has he been gone?”
That was when Mish bit her lip and flushed, and all his fears poured back into him.
“Mish.” He didn’t quite recognize his own voice, because there was an edge he’d never managed before. “Don’t you fucking coddle me.”
She took his hands. “I’m not. I’m just as worried about him as I am you. You take the world on your shoulders, but you have us, and Zav. He... I don’t think he has anyone.”
“Except me.”
She nodded. “And he’d fight the world to keep you safe.”
Ray struggled with his heart and mind and soul. “How long, Mish?”
“Since just after he brought you here. He grabbed a shower and said he needed to think and he might be a while. He left you a note in case he wasn’t back before you woke.”
That was awfully like Zavier. Thinking ahead. Knowing how Ray might react. Ray rubbed his temples and glanced over at the clock next to the bed. Nearly three-thirty in the afternoon. Which meant Zavier had been gone almost an entire day. “I should check my phone. See if he called.”
Mish shook her head. “We turned it off because it was ringing off the hook. And if yours is anything like mine and Dom’s, your voicemail is full.” She rose, picked up an envelope, and handed it to him.
Too much to take in at once. He turned the envelope over in his hands. It was obviously the hotel stationery, and bore his name, written in precise, beautiful cursive. Who the heck wrote in cursive anymore?
Zavier, of course. Ray set the letter next to him on the bed. “Why...wait. Who’s been calling?” Then it hit him—the memories. The information Zavier had told him the day before in the hospital. Carl had drugged him. Their band manager had nearly killed him. “Oh my god. The press.”
“Yeah. The press. The record company. Lawyers. Your family. The cops—they came in person, and security let them in. But you were still asleep.”
Ray rubbed his shaking fingers over his arms. “I—I don’t know what help I’ll be to the cops.”
She patted his thigh. “You don’t have to talk to them. And you probably should get a lawyer first. We all should, I think.”
Yeah. Yeah. And this was when he really needed Zav, because his mind was rocking and his body burned and all the chaos threatened to close in around him again.
He swallowed. “Where’s Dom?” Because he needed to know where everyone in his little musical family was, especially now.
“Sleeping. He spent the night here, in case you woke up.”
Because everyone bent over backward t
o take care of Ray when he screwed up. “Fuck. I’m so sorry I’ve put this all on you.”
Mish rolled her eyes. “Ray, honey, none of this is your fault, so you just stop that shit now.”
He was already so tired and he’d just gotten up. Cops. Lawyers. How was he supposed to deal with all this? He pulled at his hair. “I know.”
He did. Logically. He nearly started in on the rebuttal anyway, but his gaze landed on his ankle and the leather bracelet—Zavier’s leather bracelet—tied around it. That brought different memories: Zavier’s touch and voice. The press of his fingers against Ray’s lips.
Shh. Stop. Breathe.
He did. Inhale, exhale. By the fourth time, his head quieted enough that he let go of his hair. “Yeah. Okay.” He didn’t know if he was talking to Mish or himself or both. “I should get dressed and figure all this out.”
She bumped his shoulder. “You do have us, you know. You’re not alone.”
Yeah, he wasn’t. He stared at the leather around his ankle, picked up Zavier’s envelope, and opened it.
The note inside was brief, and written in that same beautiful hand.
I’m not leaving. I’m not. Read those words again. Call me when you’re ready.
—Zavier
Beneath that was Zavier’s cell number. He hadn’t had it—they’d never exchanged numbers. Hadn’t needed to. Ray brushed a thumb over Zavier’s name.
“‘When you’re ready,’” he muttered. “That’s so fucking Zavier.”
Mish chuckled. “He loves you.”
“He cares about me.”
“What’s the difference?” She rose and kissed him on the top of the head. “He’s not a robot, Ray. He’s a lot like you in a way—so damn passionate it overflows onto everything he touches.”
“He’s got more self-control.”
“Or more fear.” She smirked. “You boys are something else, you know?”
He had no idea what she meant “What?”
But Mish only laughed again. “How ’bout I get you coffee that’s not the hotel room stuff?”
His stomach grumbled. “Um. And a bagel? With cream cheese?”