“Don’t I know it?” the blonde grumbled. “With my luck, I’ll be stuck with him into next week too.”
“Better you than me, honey. Cheer up. I’m sure they’ll let him go soon. Not like he needs surgery or anything.” The brunette openly laughed as Shy’s stomach did a nosedive. Oh hell. He was sure they were talking about Randy.
And if that was true, then Randy was in a bad mood. A very bad mood.
He squeezed Wyatt’s hand without thinking and then just as suddenly dropped it. What was he doing? He was begging to be hurt. If not now, then later. Worse, he was laying Wyatt open to becoming the object of Randy’s rage. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Shy, what—” But before Shy could verbalize any of his emotions—something he was not used to doing—Lukas returned. By the look on his face, Shy’s worst fears were being realized.
“Um, yeah, let’s go on in, why don’t we?” There was a definite level of discomfort in Lukas’s voice. Shy took a few deep breaths to calm himself as he prepared to face Randy, assuming his mask of practiced indifference.
“Let’s go.” He didn’t dare to risk a look at Wyatt, afraid he’d undo all his hard work. At least he could do that much—spare Wyatt’s feelings, even if he was good for nothing more.
As they moved away, he heard Lukas mutter, “Don’t, you’ll only make things worse.” He couldn’t help but wonder what Wyatt had wanted to do, but it didn’t really matter, did it?
Shy didn’t know what to expect when they entered Randy’s room. Other than to be yelled at. That much was a given. The first thing he noticed was the cleanness of the room. Everything gleamed whitely, from the floor to the walls to the bedding on the two beds in the room. Shy said a mental thanks to the powers that be—one less thing for Randy to be unhappy about. Unfortunately, there was bound to be something else.
The bed on the far side of the room lay empty. A hooked white plastic curtain hanging on a track that ran along the ceiling was pulled back to expose the neatly made bed. Closer to them, to the left of the door, was the bed that must be Randy’s, although he wasn’t in it. Instead, Randy sat in a chair beside the bed, his lips set in a thin line. Shy’s heart dropped at the sight.
Shy forced himself not to react to Randy’s appearance, although he should have been prepared for it. He’d had a heart attack, and that was serious business. Truth be told, though, Shy hadn’t known what to expect. He’d never really seen Randy ill or looking less than his best. He’d always been careful about that—Shy wasn’t sure why. Certainly not out of consideration for Shy. Now Randy seemed… pale? Or was that weak? Maybe it was the harsh lighting of this rather sterile room. That was it, surely. What else could it be?
Shy moved to the end of the bed automatically. He stood at attention, facing Randy. From this vantage point, without making any obvious effort, he could see into the hallway where he knew Wyatt waited. He even imagined he could see Wyatt’s shadow, there against the far wall. The idea was a comforting one. The important thing was not to stare or be obvious in any way.
“I called you. More than once.” Randy’s voice dripped with accusation.
Shy had been staring down at his feet, waiting for it, expecting it—it being Randy’s displeasure. And now he obviously had it. He glanced up to meet Randy’s deepening scowl.
“My phone’s in the house.” Shy wasn’t even sure why he bothered trying to explain. It never seemed to make a difference. Right or wrong, Shy was always sure to be wrong and Randy right.
This time was no exception to that long-established rule.
“Where you should be.”
Shy swallowed but offered no explanation. He couldn’t help staring at the machines that surrounded Randy’s hospital bed, some of which appeared to be hooked up to him. He’d seen a few medical shows in his time, enough to know that wasn’t a good thing. What exactly was wrong with Randy, and how bad was it?
“That’s why we’re here.” That was Lukas. Shy appreciated his effort, valiant as it was, but he could have told him to save his breath, Randy would never listen. “To get the key to the house, remember? You have it, Shy doesn’t.”
Randy’s face grew darker. Shy braced himself, surprised Randy hadn’t moved out of the chair yet. Probably because of the restraining tubes that came out of his arms. Normally he’d have begun punishment by now. Maybe his inability to get up quickly was a good thing. At least in front of Lukas.
“So he’s been with you, has he?” Randy narrowed his eyes, looking over Shy’s head to where Lukas must be standing, just behind him. Perhaps Lukas wanted the same view of the hallway Shy had, although for different reasons. Shy cut his eyes toward the hall and quickly back.
Shy’s heart beat faster, waiting for Lukas’s response. He hadn’t been, of course. Hadn’t been with Lukas. He’d been with Wyatt. Yes, Lukas had been there, at least at first. But most of what Shy remembered was Wyatt, both last night and today. And that knowledge would not sit well with Randy, not at all.
“Of course I’ve been looking out for Shy,” Lukas said smoothly, so smoothly that Shy himself almost believed it to be the unvarnished truth. He dared a quick glance at Randy to see what he thought. He didn’t seem any angrier. Surely that was a good sign?
“How… how are you feeling?” Shy ventured to ask. It seemed the thing to say, under the circumstances, but the question felt odd on his tongue. He’d never had to ask it before. Apparently, though, he’d said the wrong thing, as Randy’s brows drew together and he glowered again.
“Don’t let this crap mislead you.” He waved one arm, and the tube moved with his gesture. “There is nothing wrong with me,” he insisted. “Nothing.” Despite Randy’s protestations, Shy could read between the lines and discern what Randy wasn’t saying—the message was right there in his glare. Just you wait until I get you home.
Words he’d heard from Randy more than once in his life.
Shy barely refrained from shivering. Showing weakness in front of Randy would not help in any way, only exacerbate the already awkward situation. He stole a quick glance toward Wyatt’s shadow and back. Still there. Good. He drew comfort from the knowledge, steeling himself for more of Randy’s anger and/or interrogation.
“Please don’t get excited, Randy. It’s not good for your—” Lukas began.
Randy started to rise from the chair. Shy hadn’t paid attention to Randy’s wardrobe before, but now he realized he wore only a loosely fitting thin print gown and nothing else. A far cry from Randy’s usual expensive attire. And not very flattering.
Shy took a half step back, running up against Lukas, who encircled his waist for one brief moment, then hastily removed his hands as he stepped around him, placing himself between Shy and Randy.
“I mean the machines might come unbalanced if you move too much.”
Shy wasn’t sure what Lukas had originally meant to say, but he didn’t think that was it. The question was, would Randy buy into that?
Randy resettled himself in the chair, and Shy prayed that the moment—whatever it was—had passed, holding his breath to find out, one way or another.
“Get out here where I can see you.”
Shy quickly stepped forward as Lukas scooted aside, standing at attention once more. Randy raked up and down his body with a critical eye.
“Those aren’t your clothes. Whose are they?”
Before Shy could summon the wits to think of a plausible answer that wasn’t the truth, Lukas had interceded once more.
“He couldn’t get in the house, remember? You’ve got the key, naturally.” Because you’re the boss. The undertones in Lukas’s words were clear. “We had to make do with what we could find until he can get back home.”
Randy narrowed his eyes and chewed on Lukas’s words for a moment as Shy resisted the urge to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. Stand still, don’t fidget, he cautioned himself. When Randy nodded a grudging acceptance of the necessity for the change, Shy breathed a silent prayer of relief.
>
“Those go in the garbage as soon as you get in. And cleanse yourself thoroughly. I don’t want any trace of them on you when I get home. Is the house in order?”
“Yes, Sir,” Shy replied automatically, although his brain protested he hadn’t been able to get inside to do anything. But common sense reminded him that neither had anyone else had access, and it had been immaculate when they’d left—was that really only last night? It felt a lot longer ago, for some reason.
“Is the food any good?” Lukas waved toward a cart on the far side of Randy’s bed. Shy’s heart sank. He already knew the answer to that question.
“No, it’s swill, fit only for pigs.” Randy snorted his contempt. “I tried to explain my dietary needs, but the bitch wasn’t interested. Another reason for leaving here as soon as possible.”
“Have they told you when you’re getting out?” Lukas asked. The question produced another scowl, Shy wasn’t sure why.
“Damn hospital. No one gives me a straight answer around here. The most my… doctor says is maybe in a few days. Maybe a week. But damned if I intend to stay here that long. The food’s inedible, and this bed is like sleeping on rocks….”
“At least you’re not sharing a room?” Shy applauded Lukas for attempting to put a good spin on the situation. He didn’t think it would work, though, and it didn’t.
“Thank God for small favors, right?” Randy’s tone was anything but grateful. Shy thought he sounded more than a little aggravated, which was never good for anyone.
“The nurses are incompetent, at best,” he continued in an aggrieved voice. “They seem to think they have free rein to treat me like I’m some sort of human pincushion. Either that or they’re all working on a Girl Scout voodoo badge and using me to gain extra Brownie points.” He glanced down at one arm, then the other. “They ignore me when I summon them and then dare to show up when I don’t want them. They’re surly and sarcastic and totally without manners. Oh, there’ll be some letters written once I get out of here, you can count on that.”
What had happened to the other Randy, the one who charmed everyone he met and never allowed anyone to see his hidden nature? He didn’t seem to be in evidence at the moment. Perhaps it was this place. Or maybe it was the heart attack? Shy had become disillusioned about that man long ago. Maybe Randy wasn’t bothering to hide himself for Lukas’s benefit because Lukas knew him too well too. And Randy obviously didn’t give a damn what the hospital employees thought about him.
Typical Randy.
“I expect you to stay busy.” He turned his attention back to Shy.
Of course. What else had Shy expected? Randy always insisted he stay busy. He had a saying about idle hands that he was fond of beating Shy over the head with at every opportunity. Bet it was coming now.
“Idle hands are the devil’s tools, they say. And while I may not believe in a horned red bastard with a bifurcated tail, I do believe that idleness leads to trouble. And we want you to stay out of trouble, don’t we?” His smile was so insincere and rather weak—a pale imitation of his usual megawatt grin. Still, it was enough to make Shy squirm.
He cast a surreptitious glance through the door and back. Good thing Randy didn’t know—
“What in the hell is so damn interesting in that hallway?”
Shy froze, tongue-tied.
WYATT WANTED to pace so badly he could taste it, but he didn’t want to move from the spot where he’d taken up residence, across the hall from Grant’s hospital room. He’d promised Shy he’d be there for him, and he would be, no matter what. But not knowing what was happening, and not being able to hear a damn thing inside those four walls, was wearing on his nerves. The only thing that held him together in the slightest was the knowledge that Lukas was there, and that Lukas would watch out for Shy. Surely even Grant didn’t dare to do anything that Lukas might bear witness to.
But then he remembered what he’d been told of the events at the club the night before, and he slowly began to lose his mind all over again.
He leaned against the wall, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, worrying about what was going on, wishing he could hear what was being said. Nothing but the murmur of voices drifted into the hall. None of whatever conversation they might be having was audible. Wyatt trusted Shy would call him if he needed him, but what if he couldn’t?
Maybe if he edged closer to the door….
Before he could put his impulsive thought into action, perhaps exposing himself to Grant’s view, Lukas exited the room, closing the door behind him. Wyatt sprang up, freed from his inactivity at last. Passionate words bubbled to his lips, but Lukas was already shaking his head.
“Don’t start. I didn’t have a choice. He said he wanted to talk to Shy alone. What could I do?”
Wyatt stared from the closed door to Lukas and back again, panic seizing him. He grasped Lukas’s arm in an iron grip, until the other man shook him off.
“Get a hold of yourself. Quit acting like an idiot and calm down. It’s not as bad as you think.”
“Not as bad? Not as bad?” A passing nurse gave Wyatt a cold eye, and he lowered his voice as she walked on. “What happened in there? What did he say? What did he do?”
“Just asked some questions, wanted to know what Shy’s been doing. Where he’s been. What did you expect? He controls him, you know that. Naturally, he’s trying to reassert that control.” Wyatt noticed Lukas’s glance dart away from him to some indeterminate point farther down the hall. Distraction? Or avoidance?
“What happened?” Wyatt repeated. “Something bad, wasn’t it? Tell me, please, I need to know.”
Lukas’s answer was too halting for Wyatt’s taste, as he listened impatiently. “It could… have been… better,” he admitted. “But it also could have been a lot worse. For Christ’s sake, Wyatt, I took him in there wearing your clothes, having spent the night with you. And”—he held up one hand—“I’m not asking, and I don’t want to know what happened between you. That’s none of my business. But….”
“But…?” He didn’t want to hear, but he had to know.
“Randy caught Shy looking out in the hallway and asked him what he was looking at. Of course, I knew it was you, but neither one of us was about to admit to that. Luckily, I think I diffused the situation with a little quick thinking. That’s when Randy said he wanted to speak to him alone, so I left.” Lukas shrugged. “If you’re worried he’ll hurt him, don’t be. They’ve got him pretty well wired up. I’d be more worried about when he gets home.”
“When will that be?” Wyatt dreaded the answer.
“Well, considering it’s Friday, probably not before Monday. They don’t release people on the weekends. Not even obnoxious ones. Might be as long as a week.”
“That seems awful fast.” Wyatt had been hoping for a lot longer than that, to be honest. “Don’t they have to do surgery or something?”
“No, he told me that when I called earlier. He’s here more for observation than anything. They want to play it safe, considering he’s so young, and considering he did have a heart attack.”
“If he doesn’t need surgery, then what? Why would someone his age have a heart attack?” The idea didn’t make much sense to Wyatt. He’d assumed Grant had a bad heart. What other causes of heart attacks were there? He refrained from making any further comments on Grant’s age. He’d learned his lesson on that one.
“I don’t know, but I can make an educated guess, between what Shy’s said and what Bobby’s told me.”
Wyatt tried not to roll his eyes. Was he going to make him ask the question? Apparently so. “What? What’s your guess, Lukas?”
“Apparently he likes to pop Viagra.”
“Viagra?” Wyatt hadn’t seen that coming. “You mean… he can’t get it up by himself?”
Lukas snorted. “No, that’s not what I mean. There are some people who take it who don’t really need it, they just like the effects. You know, that four-hour hard-on that won’t quit. They find i
t impressive.”
Wyatt couldn’t imagine that, but then he’d never had trouble getting an erection in his life. And never wanted one that lasted four hours. “So…?” There must be more to it than that, although the idea that Grant had trouble getting a stiffy tickled some perverse sense of humor.
“So like any drug, if you abuse it, there can be consequences. I suspect he might have double dosed. And the heart attack was the result. Hush now.”
Startled, Wyatt glanced toward the open door. He clamped his mouth shut when he saw Shy emerge. It took all of his self-control—along with Lukas’s restraining hand—to keep from grabbing Shy and hugging the stuffing out of him.
There, the ordeal was over. Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could take Shy home and minister to him, work on this fledgling relationship he felt growing between them. Nurture him and care for him, heal his broken bird….
But wait, something was wrong. Shy’s face was a marble mask, and his eyes… dear God, what was that look? So cold… so cold….
Shy marched straight up to Lukas, his back so straight you’d have thought he had a ramrod for a spine. “I’m ready to go home now,” he said in a voice that pierced Wyatt’s soul like a sharp piece of cold steel.
Something had happened. Grant had said something or did something, pushed Shy over a precipice, threw him back down into the hole Wyatt had worked so hard to pull him up out of. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse everyone and everything he could think of. He wanted to throw something and watch it shatter into a million pieces. But some vestige of maturity that existed somewhere deep inside held him back.
Lukas’s eyes held pity, as well as understanding, and something else that Wyatt could clearly read: I told you so.
Goddammit, maybe he had, but that didn’t mean Wyatt had to like it.
The two turned away. Shy never looked at Wyatt, never acknowledged his presence, never spoke a word. He followed them in silence. The elevator ride down seemed infinitely longer than the one up. Shy stood by Lukas, on the far side of Wyatt. If Wyatt moved toward him, he edged away. Finally Wyatt gave up in despair.
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