by Lee Brazil
The relief he felt at speaking to someone who might not harbor resentment of authority was short lived when a flash of silver crossed his line of vision and a shriek of anger rent the air. Everything dropped into slow motion. Loud voices and cries in the background told him someone had noticed what had happened.
Searing white hot pain slashed across the muscle of his upper arm followed by radiating pain. He dropped his notebook and clutched his arm, watching in disbelief as blood seeped between his fingers. The coppery scent of blood overwhelmed the vaguely disturbing scent of decay typical to neighborhoods like this. “What the hell?” His voice echoed as though it came from the opposite end of a long tunnel.
He looked back at the man who’d cut him. Lifeless, red-rimmed brown eyes with hugely dilated pupils met his in a face pale and gaunt. Dead giveaway. Should have noticed the eyes sooner instead of putting so much stock in a shiny pair of loafers and neatly pressed pants.
The man was struggling to shut the door. Why wasn’t he running away? Drake wedged his shoe into the door way as heavy footsteps pelted up the drive accompanied by cursing. Sean Mullins to the rescue. Drake let his weight fall into the door. No need to worry about warrants now.
“You okay buddy?” Sean called.
“Yeah.” The whack job who’d knifed him showed no desire to run, he continued to determinedly attempt to shut the door. Thankfully the pain in Drake’s arm kept him from feeling the full effect of the heavy wood slamming repeatedly into his foot. Drake got out of the way as best he could while Sean carelessly pushed past him. Wincing he, let go of his arm and inspected the cut. Fuck. He’d need stitches.
Sean strong-armed the door open and grabbed the protesting guy.
“You can’t come in here!” The man shrieked. “No one is allowed in here! She wouldn’t like it!”
Ignoring the protests, Sean spun the guy around to face the brown stucco wall. Pushing him forward, he twisted the struggling man’s arm up behind his back. “You need to calm down sir.”
“Can’t come in!” The man screamed, arching his back and twisting against Sean’s grip. “No!” His leg twitched uncontrollably and he ground his head into the rough stucco.
Drake pulled himself together enough to remove the knife from the man’s fingers. He stared at it in fascination. It was an ordinary kitchen knife, serrated blade worn practically smooth from years of use. The rusty smudge of his blood along the blade sickened him. So close. He’d come so close to being taken out of action by accident.
A uniformed patrolman jogged up beside him. “What happened?”
Sean scowled at them both, snapping his fingers. The patrolman swiftly passed over a pair of handcuffs.
Drake handed the uniformed cop the knife. “What happened? I forgot that appearances are often deceptive, that’s what happened. He’s going to need to go to detox.”
Sean snarled. “He can detox at county. You can book him and take him in for assault, officer. I’ll take hero here to the hospital for his stitches and then home to rest up.”
Drake snorted. “Right. You can take me in for stitches. But there’s no need to wait around, I won’t need a ride home. I’ll call someone to pick me up.”
“S’right. I forgot about the twins you’re dating. Fine. Stick me with the paperwork while you get doted on by your adoring nurse and his brother.”
“I wish. He’s always struck me as more of the tough love type. If I’m lucky, I can meet up with Jesse and get pampered a bit.” Except Jesse was expecting him to take Jay out tonight. Plans were meant to be changed.
Shaking his head, Sean helped him down the sidewalk. “You know, I don’t think you understand quite how lucky a bastard you are.”
“Lucky? I’m bleeding like a pig and will have insurance hassles out the ass over this, and on top of it all? This was my favorite suit.”
“Twins, man. Twins. You are living every man’s fantasy. Well, if they were women, you would be.” Sean’s brows knit in a thoughtful frown. “I take that back. I bet a lot of gay men fantasize about having twins in bed too.”
Jesus. “You got a towel to wrap around this so the blood doesn’t get all over the seats?” He tried to change the subject. What the hell had possessed him to explain the current tangle of his love life to his partner? Sure they were friends, but there was such a thing as TMI. “Sorry about the paperwork. It is my writing arm.” He tacked on piteously.
“What? Hey! You mean I’m going to get stuck writing all this up until you recover?” Sean pushed him into his seat and reached across to fasten his seatbelt. Drake jerked back and pushed him aside with his good arm.
“Forget that. I’m not an invalid. A few stitches and I’ll be fine.” Drake fumbled his seatbelt into its slot with his good hand and then braced his elbow on the arm rest to take some of the weight off.
Sean nodded doubtfully but retreated, pausing to open the trunk of the car and rummage for something. He slid into the driver’s seat and tossed a thin blanket at Drake. “Here. Wrap it in that. You sure you don’t want an ambulance?”
“Yeah, no need. And we can let the paperwork go till tomorrow, I should be able to help by then. You get anything here?”
His partner shook his head. “No one’s talking. It’s going to be entirely up to the ME to determine which came first, the chicken or the egg.”
Shock must have been setting in, because Drake actually found that funny.
Chapter Five
Jay closed his cell phone with a sigh. Jesse had sounded pleased that Jay and Drake were going out. Would he be as pleased if Jay had had the guts to tell him how he and Drake had spent the lunch hour?
Drake coming by for lunch was one thing—spending the whole evening with Drake without Jesse? The idea sent shivers down his spine and a warm ache through his heart. It also made his head hurt. Wasn’t Jesse going to be the slightest bit jealous?
Jay would be jealous in a heartbeat if he thought Jesse and Drake were spending time together. Did that make him some kind of possessive freak?
He should have stayed home, but then he wouldn’t have slept any more than he would on his feet in the ER. Besides, given the plans he’d started making for remodeling the bathroom, Jay needed to log as many hours of overtime as he could in the coming month. Not that there was any shortage of overtime, the hospital was always short nurses, and Jay could pick up the phone any day and get extra hours. Then again—more overtime meant leaving Jesse and Drake alone more. What if they decided to spend time together without him?
Imagining Jesse and Drake together like he’d just been with Drake made him slightly nauseous. Then again, he’d spent time alone with Drake in carnal activity. How could he begrudge Jesse the same experience? Why should they all suffer cold beds just because he was working nights?
Fuck.
At least at work, he could pretend he wasn’t an asshole. He could actually help people instead of hurting them. And after an hour of tossing and turning in the big empty bed, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, he’d known the hardness in Drake’s eyes this morning had been caused by hurt, just as he knew what they’d done in the supply closet assuaged that hurt.
Jay replaced his phone in the pocket of the fresh scrubs and regretfully shoved the ones that smelled of him and Drake into his duffle. The skateboard he’d ridden to work clattered against the metal locker, and Jay adjusted everything to fit again, hand lingering over the dried goo on his aqua blue shirt.
Yeah. He’d had sex with Drake, without Jesse. The world wouldn’t come to an end. He could count on Jesse not to get hysterical over it. Jesse wasn’t like that. He loved openly, and he liked touch...warmth radiated from him. Not Jay. Jay was cold. The only one who’d warmed him in the past was Jesse. Hell, if he were honest, he had to admit to himself that Jesse probably would love that he and Drake had been together.
Many people despised the hospital. They found it cold and unwelcoming. Jay threw on a thermal shirt under his scrubs and he was warm enough. Th
e hospital was the next best thing to home for him. It was comfortable, and even if no amount of air freshener could disguise the disinfectant and scent of illness, he felt at home there as much as inhaling the cinnamon-vanilla scent of his own house. The smooth white walls and parquet floor didn’t scream clinical to him, they were neat, clean, bright.
But he knew how the hospital seemed to others, and he felt more than a little sympathy for the boy whose parents wouldn’t even come home to see him. He took his lunch break as early as he could and sought the boy out.
Gerald Portermain had survived surgery, and he would be all right. Still had to be scary though, undergoing surgery alone.
Jay knocked on the partially open door of the private room, then turned the knob and let himself in. A plump Hispanic matron in some kind of black uniform dress sat by the lone hospital bed, reading a worn novel with a lurid cover. The thin, hospital blanket covered figure in the bed was still, battered and pale. Fragile brown lashes rested on colorless cheeks; deep bruises in every shade from yellow to purple to near black showed where the worst of the impact wounds were. The surgery had been on his right leg, and the limb was elevated on pillows under the blanket. Blankets hid other bandages, but a visible cast adorned one wrist and hand.
The room was too dark, too gloomy despite a bouquet of flowers. Quiet darkness was okay if you planned to mope or die. Sunshine was an automatic mood enhancer and the scent of the sea breeze would bring life to the room. Gerald had recovery time ahead of him, but he was going to be fine, and he had no reason to sit in the dark. “Gerald?” Jay asked, crossing the room briskly to open the drapes. The room was dim and even the brilliant bouquet of flowers on the oval table by the windows couldn’t brighten it if there were no light.
“Mr. Cahill? What are you doing here?” Tired eyes regarded him curiously. Gerald lifted a weak hand, dropped it when the tangle of IV and monitor wires got in the way.
“I’m Jay Cahill. Jesse Cahill, your Language Arts teacher, is my brother.” Jay cracked the window a fraction. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, and already the place appeared more cheerful. “He asked me to check in on you this afternoon because he’s in meetings at the school.”
“S’nice of him.” The boy’s words slurred and his eyes drifted shut. “Tired, though. Are my mom and dad here?”
Jay dragged the boxy chair from the table over to the side of the boy’s bed. He picked up the thin, tan hand. Checked for a pulse while he debated how to answer.
“Aren’t coming, are they?” Gerald sounded resigned.
“I’m afraid not. But they did call the school, so you’ll have your school work and a lot of visitors.” If Jay had to push Jesse into giving the kids extra credit for visiting the boy who would be bed ridden for several weeks, he would.
“S’okay. S’their anniversary trip.” A tear trickled from red rimmed eyes, and Jay handed the youth a tissue from the box on the table behind him. “Sorry.”
“Does it hurt, Gerry?” Jay whispered. He leaned forward to scrutinize the IV, check the levels of the meds the boy received.
“No, am used to them not being here. Gracie is here. She’s always here for me.”
Jay glanced across at the reading woman. She had yet to speak or glance up from her book. “Okay, champ. Gracie? He’ll need some things from his room to make his stay here more comfortable. He’ll want his iPod... You got music, right kid?”
Thin lips trembled in a week attempt at a smile. “Yeah. Bring the laptop, Gracie.” His eyes drifted shut and his shallow breathing evened out.
“Right. Gracie, he’s going to need his own blankets, pajamas, books, things that make this room more like home. Do you have a car?”
“I no leave him alone.” The heavily accented words were adamant.
“He’ll be asleep for hours, and I’ll keep checking on him. I promise you, he’ll recover faster and feel better if he’s comfortable here. I can call you a cab.” He offered when hesitation lingered in the woman’s eyes. Maybe he could find a translator?
“Okay. You stay; I go and bring his things.” The woman rose heavily, eying him suspiciously.
“I can’t stay in the room with him, Gracie. I’ll check on him, but I have patients to care for in the ER.” He couldn’t lie to her.
She made as if to sit down again, and he grabbed her elbow. “No, really. He won’t wake up, and I’ll send one of the volunteers in to sit with Gerry.”
“I have the Mister’s car. I’ll be back.” She waddled away, leaving Jay to wonder how he could keep his promise when a young girl in a pink dress with a volunteer name tag strolled by.
Chapter Six
Drake Fallon had spent a lot of time in the last three months sitting in the emergency room waiting for Jay Cahill. Usually though, he sat in the lobby anticipating a pleasant evening. This time he perched on an uncomfortable gurney, freezing his ass off waiting for a surgeon to stitch the knife wound in his upper arm.
He was angry, disappointed, and he hurt. He wanted to be held and taken care of. He wanted Jesse.
The curtain rings rattled and he looked up. Jay entered the little cubicle, his ash-blond hair secured in a neat pony tail at the nape of his neck, his sky blue scrubs impeccably neat. Damn. Apparently coddling wasn’t an option this evening after being attacked by a crackhead.
“The doctor will be with you shortly.” Jay read over the chart, and then his head jerked up sharply. “Drake? What the hell happened? It says here knife wound?”
Sighing, Drake nodded shortly. He didn’t feel like being polite. His scowl was instant. The paper crinkled under his butt as he shifted on the uncomfortable surface. “We were doing a door to door thing, canvassing for witnesses to an accident. Some crackhead got the wrong idea and came at me with a knife. I didn’t move fast enough.”
He stared resentfully as Jay put down the chart and approached him. He shouldn’t be so angry, so bitter, but clearly from the pristine state of his scrubs Jay had changed after their interlude in the supply closet. He and Jay were supposed to go out tonight while Jesse stayed home, now what? Would he hurt feelings if he didn’t go?
He’d thought he understood the intricate web of emotions he’d be maneuvering through when he began this relationship with the brothers three months earlier. He hadn’t expected that those three months would pass with only a handful of dates, mostly because their schedules didn’t align well.
Jay’s shifts rotated between a month of nights and a month of days, twelve hour shifts, and an incredible amount of overtime. Jesse’s school schedule was more manageable, but neither brother would see him without the other for more than a quick lunch or coffee. This morning might have been a breakthrough of sorts, but the events of the afternoon just drove home how fragile his situation was. Last week, when Jay was off, Jesse had been out of town chaperoning his student government group at a summer leadership seminar, so once again he’d been alone. And now, damn it, when he needed someone to look after him and soothe him, he’d be alone again.
“Does Jesse know about this?” Jay demanded. He poked and prodded at the slash, and Drake growled. “He’s going to be pissed. Shit, Drake, you could have been killed!”
“No, I couldn’t have. Have you ever dealt with these crackheads? Anyone who can rub two brain cells together can outwit them. I wouldn’t have been hurt at all, except I wasn’t expecting the guy. And no, I didn’t call Jesse. I don’t guess he’s going to know either.” Because by the fucking time they all had time off at the same time, he’d be healed. The disgust he’d felt at being lured in by his attacker’s preppy appearance returned. He should have known better.
“Why shouldn’t he know?” Jay produced a cell phone from somewhere and leaned on the gurney. “He’ll come get you. You aren’t going to be able to drive home after the stitches, and you’ll need looking after. Jesse is great at nurturing people.”
“I can drive myself home. It’s not a big deal. Just a scratch.” Completely ignore the fact that Sean d
rove you over, huh?
“It’s more than a scratch, you big lug. It’s pretty deep and it’s going to need a lot of stitches. But mostly you need someone to drive you because of the codeine in the pain killers they gave you.”
The pain killers finally had some effect. A pleasant numbness spread through his arm, and a warm haze of codeine fogged his brain. He wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously. Oh wow. “So, you’re off work? I thought you were just halfway through your shift? Can you take me home?”
“My shift isn’t done. Seven to seven. I’d take you myself, but I didn’t drive the jeep today, I needed the air to clear my head so I boarded over this morning when they called me in. But Jesse’s meetings are done. He has to study for an exam and he has lessons to prepare, but he’ll still come get you.” Jay brushed hair out of Drake’s eyes, and he let them close to savor the tender touch.
“I can’t see Jesse without you.” That was the rule, wasn’t it? The drugs weren’t really robbing him of his mental acuity, but they were making things pleasantly foggy.
“Who says?” Jay’s lips twitched, as though he found Drake amusing, and Drake wondered if he should be offended.
He grimaced. “You did. Well, not in so many words, but I knew you didn’t want me around Jesse when you weren’t there.” They’d adhered solidly to that unspoken rule since the very first date, and it irked him as much for Jesse as it did for himself. It bothered him a lot for Jay, himself too. Because with the three of them, they should never have to be lonely, and loneliness poured off Jay in waves it wouldn’t take a psychic to read.
Jay’s hand clenched on his arm, and there wasn’t enough codeine on the planet to keep that from hurting. “Uh...” He flinched. Jay’s eyes widened and his face paled a little.
“Sorry!” Jay drew his hand away swiftly. “For both. I didn’t trust you then.”
“And now you do?” He shook his head slightly to clear the fog. Things had changed a little, this morning. At least, things had changed for one aspect of their relationship. Jay wasn’t going to keep him at arm’s length when Jesse wasn’t around, but he wasn’t sure Jay had been willing to extend that same freedom to his brother.