And then he had to blink a lot more because it certainly looked like Quill over there dozing away. He looked haggard—stubble on his cheeks, deep lines on his face, slumped shoulders—but he was also one of the best things Owen had ever seen because he was there.
“Quill?” Owen croaked, voice scratchy thanks to a throat packed with what felt like thick wool sweaters.
Quill instantly startled awake, scrubbing at his face. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Like a snowplow hit me. And itchy.”
“Itchy is the meds. You were mumbling about it last night too. What do you remember?” Quill’s voice was cautious as he leaned forward.
“We were on the mountain, helping the skiers.” Owen struggled to remember beyond digging in the snow. “Then everything goes fuzzy. Cold. Dark.”
“You were caught in an avalanche. We got you out, but you were...in rough shape.” Quill’s voice got tight, and he looked away. “You’re at the hospital in Anchorage now. I don’t know everything because they’re limited in what they can tell me, but you had hypothermia, a concussion, and your right arm is broken. It’s in some sort of cast, so don’t try to move it.”
“How...how long have I been here?” Owen’s head was still foggy, the kind of grogginess that came with hours and hours of sleep coupled with the haziness he associated with strong painkillers.
“About a day and a half. You’ve been in and out of it. Spiked a fever for part of it that had everyone worried, but they’re pumping you full of antibiotics too. I never should have let you work with the tail end of that cold. Never should have let you up on the mountain either. God, Owen, I am so sorry. So fucking sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Owen wasn’t sure of much, but he knew that at least. Quill would never purposefully put him in harm’s way, would hurt himself before he let harm come to Owen. “I wanted to work. Wanted to help. You can’t control the snowpack.” His mouth was too dry for all those words, and he had to cough. “I need water.”
“Let me see what you’re allowed. I’m going to tell the nursing staff that you’re awake.” Quill disappeared without addressing the first part of what Owen had said. Damn it. Owen was going to have to work hard to get him to not blame himself. Quill returned with a short dark-haired woman in purple scrubs.
“Are we ever glad to see you awake!” She bustled around, checking Owen’s various machines and vital signs before mercifully fetching a cup of water with a lid and straw and holding it out to him. “Slow now. Just a few sips.”
The water was cool and glorious. No drink had ever tasted so good, and he had to work to not gulp it all down. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’m going to let your doctors know that you’re awake. And I’ll mention the itchiness again to them. But they’re going to be thrilled you’re alert. You gave everyone quite the scare.” She smiled at him before turning toward Quill. “Are you going to let the parents know?”
“My parents?” Owen groaned, already hating that they knew. “Quill’s talking to my parents?”
“Your doctor has too, but we figured we’d let your boyfriend handle most of the updates with them.”
“Your parents are scheduled to arrive later today,” Quill said quickly, before Owen could close his suddenly slack jaw. And Quill neither protested the boyfriend label nor stammered through his explanation. Hell, he didn’t even blush, despite the nurse’s obvious misconception.
Boyfriend? Seriously?
“They’re coming?”
“Yeah. Your mom is sort of...a force of nature.” Giving a crooked grin, Quill shrugged. “Couldn’t keep them put in California, especially once you spiked that fever.”
“Hell.” Owen sagged back against his pillow, already tired again. “Hate worrying them. And you.”
“You just focus on resting,” the nurse soothed. “Let everyone else handle the logistics. I’m going to go see what your doctor says about more fluids.”
And with that, she headed out of the room, leaving him alone with Quill again. The room was more of a glass cubicle, which probably meant ICU. Fuck it all. No wonder his parents were worried enough to come, and Quill clearly guilt-ridden enough to lie.
“I am so sorry,” he said to Quill after the door shut.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Quill reached over and squeezed his hand before taking the chair again.
“The nurse thinks—”
“Oh. That.” Quill’s tone was dismissive, like it was some minor irritation, a coffee order gone wrong, and not an outing of epic proportions. “Yeah, they weren’t going to let me see you if I wasn’t family. I figured...hoped you wouldn’t mind too much.” Another lopsided, decidedly un-Quill-like smile.
“I don’t. But...” He sighed, any thrill at Quill publicly recognizing them countered by realities. Also, he was more than a little pissed that if the situation had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been able to so easily play that card. “I don’t want it getting back to your work. And, God, it had to be so difficult for you.”
“Department knows. I had to get coverage to be able to be here with you. Had to talk to my Ranger in Charge, explain everything. Hattie’s up there now. Called in a stack of favors, but it’s not like I didn’t have the leave.”
“Quill. Fuck. This is not your fault that I got injured. You didn’t have to come out for me. That’s some fucked-up guilt right there.”
“It’s not guilt. And it’s not for you.” Sighing, Quill leaned back in his chair. “Didn’t even have to think that hard about it. Getting to you was all that mattered. Everything else seemed petty. Small. Stupid. Like our arguments. If guilt’s driving me, it’s guilt over our fight. I let fear win. And then it almost won for real. I almost lost you, lost a chance to tell you...to make things right.”
“It was a stupid fight.” Just thinking about their breakup had Owen more exhausted, head weighing five hundred pounds. The last thing he could remember thinking was that he’d squandered what little time they might have had left, but now that they were here, Quill actually with a ready apology, he was hit with boulders’ worth of doubts and a not-small amount of anger. “And it shouldn’t take some sort of near-death wakeup call to have you realizing you were being ridiculous. If you didn’t want me around then, I’m not sure I want you hanging around now out of pity. Or guilt. Because no matter what you say, I know guilt’s part of this. You carry the weight of the world around. Of course you blame yourself. It’s what you do.”
“It’s not...” Quill scrubbed at his short hair, which was far messier than Owen had ever seen it.
“Then what is it?”
“Love.” Quill whispered the word so softly that Owen had to strain to hear him above all the assorted noises of the room—machinery, AC, voices in the corridor. “Love, not guilt. I didn’t realize... Didn’t think...”
“I told you it was more than hooking up.” Owen couldn’t help being a little bitter even as his heart fluttered. “You didn’t want to believe me. Didn’t think we were worth it. Thought you knew what was best for me.”
“I still think you could do better than me. Or this place. Find something safer, warmer, and someone younger, more fun, exciting. But... I see now that I can’t let you go. I saw it when you were talking to those tourists. I was so damn jealous of that guy flirting with you. I wanted to tell you right then, but there was the callout. Fuck. Might be selfish, but I need you. And I’m sorry that it took this for me to get the right words out.” Quill shook his head. “And now I’m getting you all agitated. Which is the opposite of what your doctors want.”
“I’m not agitated,” Owen half lied. What he was was exhausted, walls starting to creep in, eyelids getting heavier. But he didn’t want to give in to sleep with things still so unresolved with Quill. “And I want to believe we would have worked it out too. But we didn’t. And now you’re here, all best boyfriend in the unive
rse, making friends with nurses and apparently my parents too, and I’m not sure I know who you are. Not sure you know.”
“Please don’t send me away.” Quill’s voice wavered. Quill who so seldom asked for anything. Quill who never showed emotion. The fist gripping Owen’s chest loosened, replaced by the need to hold Quill. He wasn’t quite to forgiveness yet, but he wasn’t unsympathetic to this strangely emotional Quill either.
“I’m not. I’m...grateful that you’re here. I just want you here for the right reasons.”
“I am.” Eyes bright, Quill reached for his non-bandaged hand again. Electricity zoomed up Owen’s arm, like the first time they’d touched. God, they’d come so far since then. Could this really be real? Could he trust in Quill? Trust in them? He wished he had an easy yes to all the questions swirling around in his head. But all he seemed to have was the strength to squeeze Quill’s fingers and yawn.
“Good.”
“You need to rest now.”
“We’re...talking.” Owen yawned between words.
“I’ll be here when you wake up. And we can talk more. Promise. We’re going to work this out.”
As sleep started to reclaim him, Owen could only wish that he had Quill’s sureness. He wanted to believe that they could have the future he’d wanted so badly just a few days prior, wanted to believe that Quill truly was motivated by love, not guilt. He wasn’t going to let Quill mortgage his future, no matter how badly Owen wanted him. Among his piles of thoughts were the glittering remnants of his feelings for Quill. He loved Quill too much to accept anything less than Quill’s whole heart, and he wasn’t going to let Quill hand it over as a form of penance.
* * *
A lifetime ago, Quill had met JP’s parents, and even though it had been as a friend, he had still quaked in his cheap boots and flannel shirt in their lavish house. But those butterflies were nothing compared to his nerves at meeting Owen’s parents, wanting to make a good impression, wanting to prove to Owen that he could do this, could be the boyfriend—partner—he deserved. It didn’t help that they’d surprised him, coming in looking far too elegant for their hours of traveling while Quill was dozing. At a certain point, the nursing staff had seemed to simply accept that he wasn’t going anywhere and had stopped trying to time his visits, letting him essentially camp out here, keeping watch over Owen, like his presence alone might be enough to keep bad things from happening.
“You must be Quill. Owen’s ranger.” Owen’s mother was small with delicate features and the same Californian accent and intelligent, sparkling dark eyes as Owen, which she used to intently study Quill. It was all he could do not to squirm. He hadn’t given a thought to what a mess he must look like until they arrived and now he was intensely aware of every whisker and grubby piece of clothing.
Quill wasn’t entirely sure whether he was Owen’s anything right then, but he wanted to be, rather desperately, and that had to count for something. “Yeah.” He stuck out a hand for her and then Owen’s dad, who was slightly shorter than Owen but with a similar confident air.
“Mom?” Owen blinked his way awake.
“Owen.” Both parents rushed to the bed, one on each side of him.
“My poor Owen.” Owen’s mom squeezed his shoulder. “The doctors said you’re doing better. But how do you feel? Where does it hurt?”
“Mom. Please.” Owen had to be feeling a little better because his voice was back to its usual firmness, and he even managed a small laugh. “You’re embarrassing me. Hurts pretty much everywhere, but I’m fine. You didn’t have to come.”
“Of course we did.” Owen’s father bristled. “You’re our son. You were hurt. We’re coming.”
He made it sound like it was that simple, like their support for Owen was that unwavering, that much of a given, when Quill knew only too well that that wasn’t how all families worked. Would his even care if their situations had been reversed? If some strange guy had called them up, he honestly wasn’t sure any of them would give more than two fucks for his well-being. But Owen’s family had been nothing but gracious, his mom even going so far as to ask Quill how he was holding up at several points in their phone conversations.
The reunion scene was almost too tender for Quill, made him feel about as needed as snow boots in July. “Here. Take my chair.” Standing, he gestured to Owen’s mother that she should sit. “I’m going to go get some food and coffee. What can I get you guys?”
“Coffee would be lovely. It was a long flight.” Owen’s mom sank into the chair Quill had vacated. “But I don’t mean to chase you off.”
“You’re not. But the nurses probably don’t want a crowd in here. I’ll be back with some drinks in a few, let you guys visit.”
Taking some deep breaths, he headed toward the cafeteria. He didn’t know how to convince Owen that he wasn’t experiencing some sort of guilt reaction, and he honestly didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t win Owen back. He’d give anything to go back to that argument on the roof, kick his stupid self, get past his fears and insecurities. Or even that moment in the parking lot, when he’d been so jealous that all his feelings had bubbled up, he wished he could grant them another few minutes before the call had come in. But he couldn’t live indefinitely in regrets, could only go forward, hoping like heck that he could give them both a future.
He’d done enough of that already, let self-condemnation over his dad’s death keep him from living his best life, let fears of being the center of attention guide him instead of listening to his heart. And right then, his heart said that it wasn’t giving up Owen without a fight.
Taking his time to ensure Owen’s parents got enough privacy for their visit, he cleaned up a bit in the restroom, then got himself some food before collecting coffee for all of them. When he returned to the room, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find the three of them laughing. If anyone could make being in the ICU funny, it was Owen. God, how had Quill even thought for a second that he could live without Owen’s ability to find the sunny spot in any situation?
“You’re back.” Owen had a wide smile for Quill, but whether he was faking it in front of his parents, Quill couldn’t tell. He passed out the coffees along with sugar and creamer packets. Somehow, he managed to make small talk, asking Owen’s parents about their trip and if they’d found the hotel near the hospital that he’d recommended.
“Good news!” Macy, who was now and forever Quill’s favorite nurse for all she’d done for him and Owen, came into the room all smiles. “You’re going to be moved to a regular room. This would probably be a great time for your family to get some rest while we get you all settled in the new space.”
“When do I get to go home?” Owen struggled to sit up farther in the bed.
“That’ll be up to the doctors, but I bet they keep you a few more days. They’ll want to make sure the pneumonia is well under control and that you’re able to be independently mobile again. They’ll probably need to run more tests too.”
“Oh.” Sinking back against the pillows, Owen seemed to deflate.
“But soon, I promise.” Macy patted his hand before completing her check of his vitals.
After she’d left again, Owen looked over at Quill, eyes serious. “Have you been here at the hospital nonstop? You’ve got to be exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” Quill lied even though he’d trade a month of summer for a hot shower and a bed.
“You should all go rest. Seriously. Like the nurse said, they’re moving me. I can see you again later. If you’re coming back that is. Do you have to get back to work?”
“I’m coming back,” Quill said firmly. “Hattie and another ranger are covering for me for a few days.”
“Then go rest.” Owen made a shooing motion with his left hand, then winced. “Crap. Pulled on the IV. And now I’m tired again too.”
“We’ll all go rest so you can nap too,” Owen’s mom said
before she gave him a kiss on the head. She gave Quill a stern look, and Quill couldn’t help thinking about how long it had been since he’d had a parent order him to do anything. Her obvious concern was sort of...nice. Reassuring.
In the end, Quill ended up giving in to Owen’s demands and getting himself a room at the same hotel he’d recommended to Owen’s parents. After a long, hot shower, he collapsed on the bed for a few hours of fitful sleep where he kept dreaming about trying to outrun walls of snow and other horrors until finally he admitted defeat and headed back to the hospital, at least somewhat cleaner and marginally more rested. And as luck would have it, he beat Owen’s parents back to the hospital and found Owen alone in his new hospital room, no roommate in the other bed, TV on low.
“Nice having cable again?” Quill asked as he came into the room.
“Eh. It’s a distraction. Not even sure what this movie is, but it feels like I’ve slept enough for a year.”
“You need it. It’s what your body needs to heal.” Quill motioned at the side chair. “It okay if I sit? If you were just being nice earlier about me coming back, that’s fine too. I can—”
“Sit.” Owen’s voice had more than a trace of his usual bossiness, and that was truly nice to hear, a welcome change from the feverish mumbles of the past few days.
“Okay.” Quill dragged the chair close to the bed, unable to resist the chance to touch Owen again, stroking a finger down his forearm, avoiding his IV site. “Would it help if I said again that I’m sorry? Or does that make things worse?”
“I don’t know.” Owen shrugged, then winced. “Fuck. Right shoulder keeps knotting up.”
“Get better, and I’ll rub it for you.”
“Quill.” Owen sighed. “I keep expecting to wake up for real, discover this is all a dream. Or learn that you’ve been abducted by aliens. I don’t need you to have a total personality transplant. Never did. I like you, the real you, just fine. I only wanted you to give us a chance.”
“That’s what I want now too. A chance. I don’t know how to prove to you that this isn’t some knee-jerk response or guilt talking, but I want the chance to try. I thought I could be strong, let you go for your sake, let you have the future you deserve, but then I saw you talking to those tourists...” Quill huffed out a breath and held up his hands in defeat because jealousy probably wasn’t any better of a reason for figuring his stupid self out than guilt. “And then, yes, there were those horrible hours when I thought I might lose you for good. I need you. For two decades now, I’ve told anyone who asked that I was married to the job. But then you came along, and you made me see how empty that life was. I’m not sure that I can—or want—to go back to my old ways. You make my life better. You make me a better person.”
Arctic Heat (Frozen Hearts) Page 25