Third Time's The Charm

by Jaime Samms

  Now, Wentworth gazed at me, the look flat and without interest. “I'd have to be married to be having affairs.” He refocused his gaze on the wall opposite, about six feet to my left. “David's mother Wendy left before I ever knew she was pregnant. I was young and foolish and very much in love with her. I wanted to give her the world. All she wanted was my attention. She died when he was twelve, but no one ever contacted me about him. I didn't know he existed until he was arrested for soliciting when he was sixteen. I was the only family they could find to contact. The only family he has left, as it turns out. Still, he took only as much of my help as he needed to get out that situation and promptly shut me out of his life. It took me another ten years to convince him to even give me the time of day.”

  That was the story pretty much as David had told me, minus the bits about how Wentworth had insisted on any further help necessitating David move from Belfast to Brussels, where Wentworth had lived at the time.

  “Kathryn married me for my money two years after Wendy left, and stayed for fifteen years. I learned to appreciate her, and she was happy. I can't say she ever really loved me, and there was no animosity between us when she left. As far as I know, she's still happy with her new, richer husband.” He gave a little shrug. “We don't really exchange Christmas cards these days.

  “The irony is, when I had the chance to be a father, I was too busy making a living to know I was wasting my life. By the time I wanted kids, Kathryn had decided she liked her girlish figure enough to get her tubes tied, and David wanted nothing to do with me. Kathryn was the only one who ever really got from me exactly what she wanted; exactly what I was capable of giving, which was nothing of myself. Just a comfortable life and shoes enough to make up for the lack of everything else. She's certainly not a bad person. I really believe she loves the man she's married to now, and I hope he makes her happy.

  “I've been single for ten years, Ian. I'm not old. Certainly not dead.” He tipped his head back to rest it on the wall and stared at the ceiling. “After she left, I chose to do something with my money other than find myself another ex-wife to pay. I chose to help boys like my son who had no one else to help them. David didn't want me in his life. I didn't mean I wasn't needed. I did my best.”

  “So you picked up prostitutes, fucked them, and left them for David to deal with.”

  “I chose boys who seemed to have some potential to save themselves. I didn't sleep with any of them. I tried to show David he could do better if he tried. If he let me help. He wasn't interested. But he did shelter the boys until they got their feet under them. I'm sure he had his own reasons, and his own affairs with some of them.” He smiled ruefully. “Robbie stayed with him the longest. Ironic, isn't it? I finally found someone I wanted enough to pursue, and for a while there, I thought he and David would find each other.” He was suddenly looking at me, watching me, a bright glitter in his eyes. “I'm afraid I'm not as humane as all that, though. I should not have put David in Richard Cornwall's way. That was a mistake.”

  “You...knew Cornie would move in on him.”

  “I figured it would be enough distraction to take his attention off Robbie.”

  “You are a bastard.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “I can be. I closed myself off after Wendy left. I attached myself to Kathryn because she didn't demand anything of me beyond what my pocket book could provide. Fifteen years we were reasonably content and I wasn't required to feel anything. Then I met Robbie, and it was like I was eighteen again, no idea what I was doing, I just knew what I wanted, and I didn't care what I had to do. I wasn't going to let him get away the way Wendy had. I let my heart rule my better judgment and I put David in a terrible position. One I should have protected him from. I didn't want to let that happen again today. I'm afraid I would have put my own needs ahead of David's again, and told the doctors to keep him alive.” Once again, he fixed me with those slanted eyes, so very much like David's. “I knew you'd put him first. You love him. I'm sorry for putting that pressure on you. I couldn't do it.”

  “And here I thought you were just acknowledging my place in his life.”

  “I am, Ian. I'm just the father who was never there for him. Who put him in harm's way and refused to support him the way he needed. You're the man he loves. You're the one who convinced him he didn't have to...live that way.” He went back to stroking Robbie's hair and staring off into space. “I'm not really under any illusion the twenty year age difference is something Robbie is going to want to live with forever, but for now...it's nice.”

  “Nice.”

  “How do you fall in love, Ian?” A sharp smile twisted across his face and disappeared. “How do you put what you want aside, give up your heart to someone and risk losing everything to possibly give them what they want, knowing it might not work out?”

  How did you? I knew exactly how Dale felt about not wanting to put David's wishes ahead of my own, of wanting him safe above all else. But I loved him, and what I wanted didn't matter.

  “You just do, Dale,” I said after a minute. “You just do.”

  I watched for a while, as his gaze fell to Robbie and his expression softened. Was he in love? Was Robbie? I thought back over the whole mess with the contract, David's agitation and distraction, even to that morning at our bathroom sink and his soft, curious expression when he asked me about bottoming and my refusal to answer him. It seemed impossible that had been just last week, impossible it might be the last time I felt his lips on mine, his hands...

  No.

  I couldn't sit still anymore. The tiny room barely contained my pacing. The foul coffee I'd drunk out of a too thin paper cup from the machine sloshed around, too close to coming up again, and I stopped. “What the fuck is going on? Why haven't they said anything?”

  My outburst woke Robbie. He and Wentworth stared up at me, like I'd grown two heads. I glared, daring them with a look to tell me it was going to be okay.

  Robbie got up and touched my shoulder. “We're here for ye, Ian. Ye know that.”

  I couldn't swallow the helplessness. Didn't he know he was supposed to tell me it was going to be ok? Didn't he know anything? I couldn't swallow the tears, either, and Robbie's simple touch was too much. It shattered me.

  I was still sniffling in his arms when the door finally opened. Dr. Parker entered with his ever-present calm expression and a different pair of scrubs on. It was good he'd taken the time to change, right? It meant there was no hurry to get news to us. I sat heavily, because that lack of hurry could mean anything.

  “It's good news.” He smiled, and it seemed the air in the room thinned, the light brightened, and for a second my head spun. “The surgery went well. It's never easy to tell at this stage, but if he's as strong as I think he is, he should make a good recovery. Not overnight, so be prepared for that, but he will be fine. His leg, well, we will wait and see. I've done everything there is to do, and hopefully, it will be enough. Eventually, we'll have to replace his knee, but I'd like to let his fractures heal and the muscle regain some of its strength before we take that step. That's a decision he should make for himself when he's ready. In the mean time, we've immobilized the joint so he can have as much mobility as possible without damaging it further.”

  “I want to see him.” The demand shot out, making everyone turn a stare at me.

  “He's sleeping, of course, and I want to keep him isolated for just a day or so. The amount of blood he lost and the extent of the open wounds makes the risk of infection enough to warrant caution.”

  I nodded. After what felt like a week of waiting, I would wait a little longer.

  “There must be a window,” Dale protested. “Just to look...”

  The doctor turned to him, the indulgent smile still on his face. “Of course, Mr. Wentworth. Linda is on her way to get you and show you where he'll be recovering, and then I suggest the lot of you go home, get some rest, and come back later this afternoon. If all goes well, you might be able to have a bit of time with
him.”

  “Later this afternoon?” I glanced between them, and around the room for a clock.

  “If you'll excuse me, I'm taking my own advice and going home. David will be under constant care, I assure you. Ah. Linda.” He waved the nurse in, gave us all another smile, and left the room.

  “You're still here?” I took in her fresh uniform and noted she had on a red shirt in place of the white one I'd first seen her in.

  “I'm back, Mr. McVeigh. It's been a very long night for you. Come with me. I'll show you where you can find David for the next while, and then I insist you all go home and get some rest and some food.” She reminded me a bit of my mother and a lot of Beth.

  Robbie nodded and took the lead, grinning widely as he took Dale's hand and followed Linda off down the hallway. I trailed after them, wondering when I had stopped thinking of him as Wentworth, the man who made my life precarious and stressful, to Dale; someone who could possibly make a young man like Robbie Kelly happy.

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  * * *

  Chapter Six

  I woke to the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing. The couch, lumpier than I remembered, poked at me until I sat up.

  Robbie had done a remarkable job of holding Dale—and me—together at the hospital. He'd been exhausted by the time Dale's car rolled around, and when his lover had offered to drop me off at mine, Robbie had whispered something in his ear that made him frown, pull the git close, and kiss his temple.

  “You're right, of course, Rob,” Dale had told him. “Care to come to ours?”

  My heart constricted at the unconscious affirmation of their togetherness, even knowing David was going to be okay. I didn't want to go home alone, and I didn't want to be anywhere but home.

  “Or we could bunk at yours,” Robbie had offered.

  I'd nodded, climbed in the car, and by the time we'd reached my building, it had become obvious the two of them needed their privacy. I'd flopped onto the couch and waved them off to the bedroom, too tired for anything but pulling the couch throw over me and falling into oblivion.

  Now, morning light peeked through the drawn curtains and low voices filtered through the fuzz in my head. In the kitchen, Dale stood behind Robbie in his bare feet and expensive, rumpled slacks. He had both arms wrapped around the little imp and nuzzled at his neck as Robbie giggled and flipped bacon. It was incredibly domestic and far less disturbing than it ought to have been.

  I tossed the blankets off and got up, headed for my bedroom and a change of clothes. “I'm going to the hospital,” I informed them as I came back out in a pair of jeans and with a t-shirt half obscuring my face.

  “No, you are going to eat, have a cup of coffee,” Robbie wrinkled his nose, “and a shower first. David is in good hands.”

  “I called this morning.” Wentworth looked at his Rolex, back to the shit who thought he could order me about because I worked for him and was dating his son. “Half an hour ago. He was sleeping, and I will not have you going and waking him up. He needs to rest.”

  I stared at them both. “What?”

  “Eat,” Wentworth said.

  “Shower.” Robbie pointed to the bathroom. “Hot. Lots of soap. Shave.”

  My eyes watered at the mention of shaving. Stupid. David was fine. There would be more bathroom sink mornings. I stumbled off to the shower, more to hide the incessant tears than because I was going to do what they told me to do.

  When I came out half an hour later, scrubbed and clean, as ordered, and almost feeling human, Wentworth was pouring coffee, which he handed to me, and Robbie was plating eggs and toast along with the bacon.

  I accepted the coffee and made room for the plate Robbie set in front of me.

  “So, we've been thinking,” Robbie said as he sat down with his own plate. He shot Wentworth what looked like a conspiratorial wink and turned his attention half to me, half to his plate. “David is going to need you here. Dale wants to make sure I can run a business.”

  “Yes.” I set down the fork I had picked up. “About that.” Wentworth met my angry gaze head on. “Those were shitty contracts you drew up.”

  Wentworth's lips tightened. “A failed test, I suppose. I didn't expect them to sign them.”

  Robbie quietly ate his breakfast. Had he already talked to Wentworth about this? He had to have.

  “You owe them both an apology.”

  “Yes.” He reached and placed a hand over Robbie's on the table. “Robbie and I talked about this last night.”

  “We made up,” Robbie mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

  I stared at him.

  After a minute, he lifted his head and looked at me, a quirk of a smile on his face. “He was right. I should have read it first, and you're right, it was a shitty thing for him to do. Everyone makes mistakes. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. David needs you here, so Beth and I will have to manage without you for a while.”

  I nodded. “I can't not work. I have rent to pay. David will need—”

  “I'll worry about the bills,” Wentworth said. “And rent, if you'll let me help.”

  “It'll be up to David.” I turned back to my food, not very hungry, but wanting the conversation to be over. I was too tense to be talking about this now.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Robbie squeeze Wentworth's fingers and they both went back to quietly eating their meals. When we were done, Wentworth called the hospital again. David was still sleeping, but I went anyway, with Robbie's promises to clean up and take care of things echoing in my ears.

  I arrived with David's sketch book and pencils under my arm, a steaming coffee in my hand, and took up my place beside his bed. He'd wake soon, and I would be there when he did.

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  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  It was early to be awake. I'd learned, since tumbling from the ladder, that before actually moving, especially before flexing my knee or trying to lift my leg, it was best to take a mental pain inventory. Miraculously, I came up with nothing beyond the bright sun shining in my eyes. I seemed to still wake early most days, even though more often than not, now it was the sun and not constant aching that woke me. Usually, I was up long before Ian ever thought of opening those pretty blue eyes of his. The constant feeling of being too knackered to do anything was finally wearing off. I had hopes of making it to lunchtime without falling asleep on him, or getting a bear-like attitude. He'd been spectacular. Over months of therapy, knee replacement surgery, more recovery, and my constant fatigue, he'd never complained. Not to me, anyway. He worked from home when he had to, but Beth and Robbie had worked out a system that didn't really need us. I suspected they just called to keep him feeling useful. He was making noises, though. He wanted to go back to work, and that made my stomach knot up.

  It shouldn't. I was just spoiled. I was back on my feet. On both of them, even if the one leg was slightly shorter than the other now. I could manage on my own. In fact, I should go back to work too, though set design and climbing around on ladders was a lot less appealing than it used to be.

  I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. There were a few more frown lines now, and a bit of grey hair. Premature. I ran my fingers through it.

  “I think it's sexy.”

  The goose bumps started just before his lips touched the back of my neck. Who was I to argue with evidence like this? If this is what his idea of sexy encouraged, I was more than willing to go along. I reached back instead, and pulled him closer.

  His hands flattened over my belly, firmly drawing me back against him. “Relax, Davey.”

  I didn't get much more relaxed than this.

  He wiggled a bit, reached down to spread my legs, and managed to work his cock between my butt cheeks. Again. The man never quit. Granted, for months, he'd gone without, or taken care of himself. I still liked to watch him smooth away his own morning wood, but now I was back almost to normal, it was like he had to make up for all that lost time.
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br />   “You're probably too sore for me,” he whispered, and I felt twinge of regret that I had to agree with him. After a while, all the lube in the world just wasn't enough.

  I nodded.

  “Come back to bed.”

  “Ian...”

  He turned me around and held me, a hand on the back of my head keeping me still as he kissed me, as I kissed him back. This was something I would never get tired of. He kissed like he meant it. Every single time.

  “Come back to bed, Davey, please.”

  He had me wrapped around his finger, for sure. I clung to his hand as he dragged me back into the bedroom. The bottle of lube was sitting on my pillow, and while I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, I had to shake my head.

  “Ian, really. I can't.”

  “Trust me, David.” He pulled me down on top of him, spreading his legs and wrapping them around me as he proceeded to kiss me slightly senseless. He made it very hard to argue with him sometimes.

  “Do you remember,” he asked after a while, “you once asked me if I'd ever been fucked.”

  I blinked at him. “Sure I remember, and I remember ye never did answer the question.”

  “About that.” His hand roved over my back and he gazed into my eyes. “And Robbie—”

  “I know. Stupid. Ye didn't—”

  “Shh.” He took a moment to lift up and kiss me briefly. “No. I didn't. Of course I didn't. He knew what the tattoo said because he did it.”