by AJ Rose
“My husband.”
On the other side of the Jeep, Mitch’s door was opened, and people tried to ask him questions, to which he didn’t respond.
“Someone’s on their way,” they reiterated. Nate watched as they clumsily felt for a pulse on Mitch’s exposed wrist. “He’s alive, and I think his heartbeat is strong. He’ll be okay.” Nate didn’t care if it was a lie, only that Mitch was still with him.
It’s too soon. His betrayed brain kept cycling that thought to the forefront of his mind.
“Check the… dog,” he wheezed, hoping they understood him.
The Good Samaritan said something to someone behind them, and the back door was opened. The click of canine paws on pavement came to him, and he blew out a breath as pain began to filter through the endorphins rushing his system. They noticed the name on her tag and started soothing her by name.
“The dog’s okay. Worried, but we’ve got her. We’ll take care of her,” his rescuer promised, squeezing his hand. He held on tight, listening to the string of words meant to keep him from panicking, his left side beginning to burn and feel heavy, as though he were breathing through cotton. The sound of sirens in the distance told him true help was on the way. That was his cue to pass out.
* * *
When Nate came to, his left side was on fire and his mouth was full of sand. He groaned and turned his head, trying to peel his eyes open. It was as though his upper and lower eyelashes were hands, clasped together and refusing to budge. Finally, he managed to slit them open and take in his surroundings. Hospital room. Monitors beeped with steady heartbeats, and the soft squeak of shoes on linoleum grabbed his attention.
“You’re awake. I’ll get the doctor,” someone said from the doorway, and in a few minutes, a different someone in a white coat came to stand beside his bed.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Koehn?”
“Like shattered glass.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m Dr. Distler. You’ve been in a pretty bad car accident. Do you have family you want us to call?”
“My husband.” He had to clear his throat to get the words out, and a kind-faced nurse held up a cup with a straw for him to drink.
Dr. Distler gestured to the bed on the other side of the room. “He’s there.”
“How is he?”
“He had a pretty serious knock to the head and has some bleeding on the brain. It’s not serious enough to require immediate surgery, and we’re keeping a close eye on him. We’re hoping it’ll resolve on its own, and so far so good. It doesn’t seem to be growing. You both have a long recovery ahead of you,” the doctor said with sympathy. “Is there someone we can call for you both?”
Nate closed his eyes and breathed through nausea. When the threat of vomiting had receded, he swallowed and looked at the doctor again. “My cell phone has Mitch’s parents and brother in the favorites. My parents, too.”
Tensions between him and his parents had faded in the last year, though things were far from repaired. He feared them hearing about another accident and hospitalization would set back any progress they’d made, but it would be worse if they weren’t made aware of the situation at all.
The nurse who’d been fluttering around him, checking his vitals, moved to the cabinet he guessed held his personal effects and came up with a phone.
“This one?”
“Yeah,” he answered hoarsely.
“Is it locked?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry, Nathan,” she promised. “I’ll handle it.” She bent over the device and noted the phone numbers she needed before returning it to the cabinet.
“Nate,” he corrected.
“Nate, you’ve got a few serious injuries of your own,” the doctor said. “Two ribs on your left side broke from the impact of the airbag and steering wheel, and one of them punctured a lung. We had to insert a chest tube to drain the blood and were able to stitch you up, but you’ll be very sore.”
Nate groaned. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”
“Your X-rays did show a previous set of rib fractures. How long ago was that injury?” Dr. Distler asked, one of his dark eyebrows rising. Nate really looked at him, trying to see if he was about to deliver worse news. The man was average height, with dark brown hair and a receding hairline. His glasses gave him the air of a smart man, and his face was competent, sympathetic without any of the sadness Nate would have expected if there was worse news to come.
“Five years ago.”
“We have you on narcotics as well as blood thinners to prevent blood clots, but you seem to be doing well. You also suffered a broken right foot, which is common in front impact collisions. Braking jammed the pedal upward, and your foot absorbed the energy from the crash. You’ll be on crutches for a couple weeks once you’re released, but you should be fitted for a stabilizing boot after that, which will help with your mobility. It’ll be painful, but the break was clean and should heal fine.”
“And Mitch?”
Distler’s face remained calm. “He should recover, barring complications, though he has yet to wake up. He shows signs of what we call contra coup injuries, where the brain tissue has collided with the interior of the skull in both the frontal and occipital lobes. There’s some swelling, and the bleed is located in the frontal lobe. It’s not as devastating an injury as it could be, and we’re optimistic for his chances, but it is a serious injury. If he’s not alert by tomorrow morning, we’ll take him for another scan to see if we have anything more to be concerned about.”
Nate turned his head to study Mitch, lying so still in the other bed. He was pale, and utter lack of movement made him look dead, which brought Nate’s thoughts around to the question at hand.
We’re not dead. Why aren’t we dead? That was quickly followed by, We had almost two months left. How is this fair?
“Where are we?” Nate wondered, looking around for someone who could answer his real questions. It was just the doctor and the nurse, who’d moved to Mitch’s side of the room and were studying his monitor and listening to his lungs.
“Foothills Hospital in Boulder.”
“How far from the accident?”
“About fifty miles. You were transported by ambulance, but your husband arrived by life-flight. We got you within the golden hour of treatment, so for both of you, prognosis is promising. It’s a waiting game. We’ll keep you for a couple more days until we’re sure your lung bleed has been fully resolved, and Mitch will need to stay for a few days longer, unless something comes up requiring further intervention. You’re in good hands, Nate.”
The doctor clasped Nate’s hand in both of his, and they were warm. His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and his glasses slipped, giving him a slightly scattered look, though he slipped them in place quickly. All Nate could do was nod and accept. There was so much he didn’t know, but how could he ask the doctor where the angel was who had startled him so badly he’d run his beloved Jeep straight into a mountain?
Oh, she will answer for that, he thought darkly before something else occurred to him. “Someone stopped to help. They said they had our dog, Sadie. Do I have a way to contact them?”
The nurse answered this question. “I have their number at the nurse’s station. They’ve assured us they’re happy to care for the dog until such time as a family member will take her or you’re well enough to take her. I’ll get you the number so you can speak to them directly if you’d like.”
“Please,” Nate said, closing his eyes. He was so tired.
“Rest now, Nate. We’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. Try to get some sleep.”
Nate nodded and they left him to his scattered thoughts.
“Where are you, Katherine?” he mumbled, his eyelids too heavy to stay open.
He had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up again to find Katherine sitting in a chair between their beds, flipping idly through a magazine.
“What the hell?” he demanded when he had his voice.
She looked up and smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“Betrayed.” He glared, shooting daggers at her. “We had six and a half weeks.”
“You did,” she agreed, setting the magazine aside and leaning forward. “I’m sorry about this, Nate, but you’re not dead. You’re still here, able to hate me for ruining your trip.”
“You could have killed us,” he snapped. “And now we’re going to spend our last days gimpy and in pain. You can fuck off any time now.” Turning from her, he willed her away.
“Not happening, dear. As soon as Mitch wakes up, I think we’ll have a little chat and see if you still wish me to leave after I’ve said what I’ve come to say.”
“Pretty sure that’ll be a yes.”
But he’d lost all his vehemence, knowing from Mitch’s stories of the angels how immovable they were once a decision was made. It was futile to hate Katherine now. Angels did things for reasons they rarely shared with lowly humans, so Nate’s only choice was to wait to find out what the fuck was going on.
After a couple hours of trying to go back to sleep and failing because he felt Katherine’s curious gaze on him despite her continued flicking of pages in a magazine she apparently had no real interest in, the groan from the bed beside him had Nate’s eyes snapping open.
When Mitch’s beautiful gray eyes trained on him, Nate smiled. “Hey, gorgeous. You with us?”
Mitch blinked a few times, then smiled crookedly. “Ow.”
Nate chuckled and winced as his left side lit up with pain. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry.”
A nurse peeked in, acknowledging neither Katherine nor Nate, her attention zeroed in on Mitch. She disappeared and returned with Dr. Distler, who gave Mitch much the same information he’d given Nate earlier. Mitch said very little, passively accepting what had happened to them. He did keep looking at Katherine, whom the doctor hadn’t acknowledged.
Nate had to wonder if she was visible to anyone but Mitch and him, but he’d never considered her abilities beyond what she’d promised all those years ago. Before long, the staff left them alone with reassurances their families were on the way.
“Mitch? How are you feeling?” Katherine asked, coming to her feet and putting a hand on his foot.
Nate wanted to growl at her not to touch him.
“Ow.”
She snickered. “I bet. I may be able to help you with that.”
They looked at each other with identically skeptical expressions, but Nate read the interest on Mitch’s face. Katherine pulled her chair closer so they could both hear her, though she spoke quietly.
“The five years you were given were a test for Nate.”
“Me?” he blurted. “Why?”
“We need more reapers, not fewer. This region sees a lot of accidents related to the mountains, and with Charles Seeker retiring, and his brother soon to follow, and Mitch being so disgruntled at having no choice in his genetics, Divinity saw fit to plan for a future with many possibilities. Your free will had to be accounted for, so we gave you the option of being together without any pressure for a while. It was offered in the hope Mitch would react less critically to the idea of reapership when it came up again.”
“Came up again?” Mitch echoed, and Nate couldn’t help the little sigh of relief at hearing Mitch utter more than one syllable. To his surprise, the trepidation he’d have expected such a phrase to instill in Mitch wasn’t apparent on his face or in his tone.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I’m prepared to offer you both a reapership, valid for exactly three hundred years from today’s date, wherein you act on behalf of Divinity in the capacity of the Seeker family’s deal. Your lifespans will be exactly the same, so Nate being two years younger won’t matter in the end. The offer is a full life together, no aging differences between you, and no worry about one leaving the other behind. There’d be no threat of memory alteration since you’d both be reapers. All you have to do is agree to fulfill the duties required in your capacity as reapers, and everybody wins.”
“Why didn’t you offer this to him five years ago?” Mitch demanded through clenched teeth.
To Nate’s surprise, Mitch was angry. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Mitch this upset.
Mitch was the calm to Nate’s tornado, the practicality to Nate’s flights of fancy. Frankly, it was strange to be on the opposite side of their usual roles. Nate had nothing but peace in his chest, his breathing calm and serene for the first time in months as the end of their five years drew near.
“We had to vet him. Tate’s connection to him made it clear he’s capable of holding on to a soul after the debacle with her original reaper assignment. Divinity has been more careful in choosing reaper candidates, and that was just one of several reasons why. Maybe it was only chance the two of you met. But it was Tate’s presence that gave you a reason to drop your guard around him, Mitch. As events unfolded in your lives, we saw an opportunity to expand our ranks, but we had to know Nate was capable of keeping a secret and doing the job. These last five years have been a test, a chance for Divinity to assess Nate’s integrity and dedication. We have found him refreshingly passionate about everything he does in life and believe he’ll make a reaper the likes of which aren’t seen very often. He’s dedicated, strong-willed, quick on his feet, and compassionate, as so few humans are these days. And we know you’re a package deal.
“But Mitch, your recalcitrance concerning being a reaper had to be understood, too, and we know after having spoken to your family that the crux of your dissatisfaction with your fate was about your inability to maintain one partnership over a lifetime. You possess passion of a different sort, that for relationships you hold dear. To offer Nate a reapership means extending you the same offer once more. I won’t lie and say Divinity wasn’t hesitant to do so after you were so disheartened the first time. They fear you’ll want out again, but I think as long as the two of you are together, your objections don’t apply. Am I right?”
“You’re right,” Nate answered for Mitch, earning himself a glare. “Oh, come on. How many nights did we stay up late, talking about what had bothered you so much about your position? You didn’t choose it. You couldn’t find someone with whom to spend your entire life. You didn’t want to remain young while your partner grew old and died, over and over again, like those of your father and uncle. You didn’t like the idea of your partner being forced to live anything but a normal life.”
Mitch continued to glare, but it lost some of its potency even as he turned it on Katherine. “You’re still playing with our lives.”
She shrugged. “We play with everyone’s lives. It’s why the phrase ‘divine intervention’ exists. You’re not special.” The corner of her mouth quirked up at the backhanded compliment. Mitch didn’t want to be special, stand out.
“What makes you think I don’t still want normal?”
Nate stared at him, but when he spoke, it was to Katherine. “What happens if we say no?”
Her tone turned solemn. “You will each suffer a complication from your car accident injuries, and your time will be up.” It was said simply, but the implication was clear. They’d made a deal, after all.
“This is bullshit!” Mitch all but shouted.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling strong enough to get riled,” Katherine said drily. “Careful, though. You’re not as well as you think.”
“What do you mean?” Mitch asked warily.
“I’ve given you both a little bit of clarity for the sake of this conversation. Should you be tested right now, Mitch, your brain would show no sign of trauma, and the doctors would be amazed at your ability to heal. I couldn’t offer you something that takes this much consideration with a brain impairment hindering your cognitive thinking skills.”
Nate narrowed his eyes, getting miffed for the first time. “That’s really kind of dirty, you know.”
Katherine only looked at him stoically. “So, gentlem
en. The choice is before you.”
“Indentured servitude or die,” Mitch spat, fuming.
“Honor your original deal or accept a new one,” Katherine corrected. “Diplomacy, Mitch. It does go a long way to keeping things peaceful.”
“You can—”
“How much time do we have before you need an answer?” Nate interrupted, sure whatever would have emerged from his husband’s mouth would have been more rude than an angel would tolerate.
“The sooner the better, guys. Twenty-four hours is all I’m authorized to offer you to think it over.”
“How do you plan to explain to the hospital staff how we’ve healed so quickly once you make us reapers?” Nate asked, earning himself a warning protest from Mitch, but he held his hand up to silence him. “I’m not deciding yet. I just want to know.”
Katherine pursed her lips. “We have a couple options. We can alter the staff’s memories as to the severity of your injuries, which would take some doing and is the less attractive option, or we can chalk it up to a miracle. Medical miracles happen all the time, don’t they?” Her eyes glimmered with humor.
“Okay,” Mitch said as though he were about to throw down a gauntlet. “What about the male sons following in our footsteps? Are we required to become parents? I always hated that being a reaper affected the entire bloodline. You guys are kind of assholes that way.”
“Mitch, stop,” Nate admonished. But he looked to the angel for an answer, realizing the validity of the question.
She looked away, frowning and picking at the hem of her sweater as if she didn’t like the answer but had to give it. “You’re free to choose whether or not you become parents, but should you do so, the genetics will stand. All males belonging to you biologically will become reapers as per the usual standard contract for reapership.”
Mitch studied her as though he were considering her careful words. Then he turned to Nate. “If we decide to have kids, we’re adopting.”
Nate grinned. “Sounds good to me.”