by Layla Dorine
Vic and Gray sat across the bed from each other.
“He told me a bit about Terry,” Gray finally admitted.
“Yeah,” Vic said. “He’s also the one who clipped him in the race.”
Gray’s face darkened and Vic could see the fury in his eyes. “He was trying to get in here this afternoon, but one of the nurses told him one at a time, and I was already here.”
“Good. He doesn’t need to get in. He did this to Nicky just to win that damned race.”
“You mean it was intentional?”
“Nothing he says is going to convince me otherwise,” Vic said vehemently.
“Bastard!” Gray swore, then reached out to trace his fingertips down Nicky’s arm.
“Look, umm,” Vic began, not wanting to ask but really needing the help. “When Nicky comes home he’s going to need to be downstairs. Do you think you could come by some time and help me move his furniture into the living room?”
Gray nodded. “How does Saturday sound? I’m off then.”
“Sounds good.”
“I gotta get going, my shift starts soon, but Nicky knows I’ll be back tomorrow,” Gray said as he stood. He kissed Nicky’s cheek, then his lips, lingering for a moment to stare down at him.
Vic nodded and watched him go. He wanted to hate the guy, but it was pretty impossible. Not with the attention and care Gray was showing to Nicky. Unlike Terry, who’d usually been the one basking in the affection Nicky lauded on him. It was funny, now that Vic thought about it, but he’d never seen Terry show Nicky the kind of attention Gray was showing him. It was the first time he’d ever thought of their relationship as one-sided, but now it was clear that it had been.
Vic thought back to the last time the three of them had been to a bonfire together. It had been out at the practice track, with picnic blankets thrown on the ground and bodies sprawled all over them.
“Grab me a beer?” Terry asked, levering himself out of Nicky’s lap where he’d been lying.
“Sure,” Nicky said, stroking Terry’s hair and bending down to kiss him before slipping out from beneath him and grabbing them both another bottle.
Nicky had no sooner returned with that and set Terry’s down beside him than Terry had looked up and given Nicky a smile.
“Hey, do they have any of that strawberry and marshmallow stuff left in the cooler?”
Nicky had shrugged, going to sit down. Before he could, however, Terry fixed him with a pointed look.
“Well, can you check?”
“Yeah, okay.” Nicky set his beer beside Terry’s and went off in search of the stuff. He brought back enough for both of them, but Terry took the plate from his hands and once again made himself comfortable, reclining against Nicky, once his boyfriend had sat down.
“I love this stuff,” Terry declared as he shoveled in a bite.
Nicky picked up the second fork and scooped some onto it, only for Terry to still his hand.
“Do you really think you should be eating that? Your leathers are getting pretty tight.”
Nicky’s eyes widened and he put down the fork. He went back to stroking Terry’s hair and staring into the fire, while Terry finished the plate, then asked Nicky to throw it away so it wouldn’t attract flies.
Vic’s frown deepened as he remembered how little Nicky had eaten in the weeks to follow, how many extra workouts he’d pushed himself to do, how many times he’d caught him staring in the mirror, examining his abs and poking at bits of fat only he could see. He wondered if Nicky had figured it out yet. That there had never been any fat or any deficiencies, that all of his insecurities and doubts had been products of Terry’s thoughtless indifference. He remained by Nicky’s bedside until the nurses kicked him out, just watching over his friend as he slept.
Chapter Six
Monday morning rolled around and River pulled up to the shop, still debating whether to just pop Terry in the face a couple times and be done with it. Stepping into the break room to see a wretched-looking Terry at the coffee pot did nothing to ease his mood. If anything, Terry didn’t look bad enough. River let his eyes sweep over Jason, who was shooting baskets with crumpled bits of paper, and had to choke down the urge to punch him too.
“I hope you’re fuckin’ proud of yourself,” River began without preamble.
Terry froze, fingers curled around the handle of the coffee pot, and sighed. “Christ, River, do you think I meant to hit him?”
Jason immediately perked up, feet dropping from the chair upon which he had them propped. “Who got hit?”
River glanced over at him, and then glared at Terry.
“Was an accident at Saturday’s race,” Terry remarked, leaving the rest unsaid.
“Accident my ass,” River snapped. “You did it on purpose and you goddamn well know it!”
“Who got hit?” Jason asked again, a little louder this time.
“Nicky,” River spat. “Terry couldn’t win the damn race on talent. He had to take Nicky out to get it done.”
“Shit, you won the race?” Chris asked excitedly as he walked through the door.
River glared around the room before his smoldering eyes once again came to rest on Terry, radiating fury. “Shocked you didn’t call all your buddies to gloat.”
Terry slammed the coffee pot down hard enough to crack it. “I didn’t fuckin’ mean it!” Terry yelled.
“Bullshit.”
The door slammed open with a thud and Dean, the owner, stood glowering at all of them. “The next one of you that swears in here loses a day’s pay; got it? There are customers out there, and they can hear you. Now stop arguing and get to work!”
“Sorry Dean,” Terry muttered, head down as he grabbed the clipboard containing his assignments for the day.
River watched him go, glaring at his back the entire way.
Dean caught the hate filled-look and stuck an arm out into his path, stopping him from following the other man. “If there’s a problem between you two, you’d better settle it on your own time.”
“Yeah,” River grumbled. When Dean didn’t move his arm, River was forced to look up at him.
“I mean it. Any fights in here and both parties are fired,” he cautioned.
“But he—”
“I know. I heard about what happened at the race. I’m on the committee, remember. I would have been there if it hadn’t been my kid’s birthday. We’ll be reviewing the tape, and if he did it deliberately, he won’t stay on the circuit. What I need you to do for me is be professional, at least while you’re at work; got it?”
River nodded. “Got it.”
“Good. Now get to work.” Dean dropped his arm and let River pass.
None of them forgot the conversation, however, and as soon as they broke for lunch, Chris asked about the race and River told him in great detail how Nicky had been leading damn near the whole time and that Terry jerked his bike to crash into Nicky’s back tire.
“So it was payback?” Jason asked around a mouthful of bologna sandwich.
“No,” Terry insisted. “It was an accident. God, it just happened; okay?”
“Yup,” River drawled, “he just happened to jerk his bike and slam his wheel into the back of Nicky’s just as they were landing the final jump.”
“So?” Chris asked. “Was only fair after what Nicky did.”
“Really?” River asked, fingers closing around his soda can until the liquid started to bubble at the top. “And what exactly did Terry tell you Nicky did?”
“Cut him off in the Tahoma race and blocked the line so Terry couldn’t get through,” Jason commented as he chewed. “So, yeah, I’d have hit him too. Teach him that he can’t just treat friends like shit that way.”
Soda spewed over the top of the can as River crushed it in his fist. “Maybe instead of listening to bullshit, you two should watch the tape. Nicky didn’t block anyone. He was ahead of Terry, there was one open line, and he took it. Terry was almost a whole bike’s length behind him. Nicky nev
er even saw him there until he watched the race later, after Terry started accusing him of cutting him off.”
Jason paused with the sandwich halfway to his mouth, while Chris threw some paper towels over the mess of soda flowing across the table.
“Why don’t you tell the truth for once in your miserable life,” River challenged Terry.
Three sets of eyes watched Terry, who was staring down at his hands.
“He could have checked,” Terry said.
“Why, when the race was in front of him?” River demanded.
“I-I worked my ass off for that sponsorship,” Terry muttered, eyes filled with desperation as he gazed up at them.
“And so did Nicky,” River supplied.
“But he knew…” Terry began, voice trailing off as Jason and Chris shot confused looks between them.
“Wait, so he didn’t cut you off?” Chris asked at last.
River glanced over at Chris and shook his head. “The hole opened up in front of Nicky, not Terry, and that was only because Garret Westlake swung wide going into a turn. Nicky had a split second to react and take it. There was someone coming up on his left too.”
“I was right there.” Terry still tried to insist.
“You weren’t even close,” River said coldly. “Even if you’d passed Nicky, the hole would have been closed by the time you got there, or taken. Neither of you would have won.”
Jason frowned as he looked between Terry and River. “Bullshit.”
When Terry said nothing, Jason fixed him with a scowl. “It’s bullshit; right, Terry?”
Terry sighed heavily and carded his hands through his hair. “The hole opened in front of Nicky. Bobby Moore was trying to pass on the left, I was coming up on the right. Nicky gunned it and made it. Bobby edged me out, only…” Terry sighed again, even louder this time. “I didn’t even know there was anyone passing on the left until later, when I watched the tape. Nicky couldn’t have looked back; he didn’t have time. I didn’t have time to see what was going on either. I just… I couldn’t handle that Nicky was the one who’d taken away everything I’d worked so hard for. I couldn’t handle looking at him each day, knowing he had what I’d always wanted. I’ve been a dick to him, but I-I never meant for Nicky to get hurt.”
“But you hit him on purpose; didn’t you,” Chris said at last, more statement than question.
“Yeah, okay!” Terry snapped, looking at them all with wild eyes. “I hit him, all right. I deliberately fuckin’ hit him. I just wanted to make the bike go down. I wanted to beat him. I needed to prove that I could. But I swear I never meant to hurt him.”
For a moment Chris said nothing; then he tossed the sopping paper towels in the trash and stalked out the door.
“You’re a piece of shit,” Jason snarled, and followed him.
“I hope it was worth it,” River told him as he stood. “If I were you, I would tell the truth at the inquiry. You’re done racing, Terry. Done!”
***
River stalked out of the office, leaving Terry to bury his head in his hands, the image of Nicky, bleeding on the track, never very far from his mind.
Work couldn’t end quickly enough. The silence from his co-workers was as bad as the looks of fury they shot him. As soon as Dean told them it was quitting time, he punched out and rushed to the door like the hounds of hell were after him. There was only one place he really wanted to go, the same place he’d gone yesterday, only to be turned away.
For the second time, Terry showed up at the hospital only to be told Nicky had a visitor. Furious, he paced around outside, waiting to see who was leaving so he could go up. He needed to see for himself how Nicky was, since Vic’s texts of “the same” or “slightly improved” hadn’t told him much. Dammit, he needed to apologize. He needed Nicky to forgive him. Terry paced until he saw Vic leave, and then he hurried in.
“Can I see Nicky Erikson, please?”
“He’s had enough visitors today; he needs to rest,” the nurse told him.
“Look,” Terry shot back angrily, “I keep trying to see him and someone else is always in there. I haven’t been able to see him since the accident.”
The nurse looked him over for a minute. “You’ve got five minutes, that’s it.”
“Okay, thanks,” Terry said. He hurried up to the ICU. Stepping into the room, Terry looked at Nicky lying still and bandaged in the bed, and nearly wept.
“Oh, fuck, Nicky,” Terry groaned as he sat in the chair beside his ex. “I’m sorry, man, I’m so sorry.”
Nicky stirred and opened his eyes. Terry gasped when he saw that one of Nicky’s eyes didn’t focus on him.
“Ter?” Nicky asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, Nicky, I’m right here.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I wanted to see how you were.” Terry reached out to touch Nicky’s hand, but Nicky shakily moved it away.
“No,” Nicky corrected, his eyes shining with tears. Some spilled over, soaking his cheeks. “Why’d you hit me?”
“Shit, Nicky, I didn’t fuckin’ mean to. I was just trying to win.”
“Good job,” Nicky groaned, and looked away.
“Nicky, I never would have done this to you on purpose, I swear,” Terry lied. He wanted to kick himself for it as soon as it left his lips. He should tell him, before the others told him. Only he couldn’t make himself say the words.
“Yeah, ’cause you actually give a shit. Hope you’re happy now. Did the sponsors give you my job?”
Terry looked at the floor. “No. They’re talking about giving it to Shawn.”
Nicky continued to look at the wall. “Good.”
“Nicky, I’m sorry. I swear to God I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“I probably won’t race again, ever. Hell, they said I’m gonna have to learn how to walk again. So thanks, but no thanks, Ter. You can take your apology and go to hell.”
Terry gasped and looked down at Nicky, not having realized the damage was so bad.
“Stop staring at me and get out, Terry,” Nicky ordered sharply. “Now! Dammit!”
Terry fled, leaving the room at a run before Nicky could see his tears. He ignored the glares of doctors and nurses and one admonishment by security to slow down, grateful when he burst out of the building and away from the god-awful antiseptic smell. Out in the parking lot, Terry sat on the curb and wept, hating what he’d done to Nicky and his ex’s bitter refusal to accept his apology for it.
***
Saturday morning Gray knocked on the door to Vic and Nicky’s house at around nine, leaning against the doorframe while he waited for Vic to answer. He still couldn’t get a feel for the faint hostility he’d been picking up from Vic, but he was hoping that working together today would put an end to it.
Vic answered the door in jeans and a T-shirt and gave Gray a small smile. “Thanks for coming; I’ve only sort of figured out how all of this is going to work.”
“Okay,” Gray said, rolling up his sleeves. “At worst, it will be trial and error.”
Vic had to chuckle at that, especially when Gray proved to be right. They had to rearrange the living room three times to get all of the furniture by the bay window, in order to leave the bigger chunk of the space open for Nicky’s bed and dresser to come down.
“How long were he and Terry together?” Gray asked as they carried dresser drawers down the stairs.
“Four years; but they’ve known each other for twelve. They met in elementary school. We all did. Then about two months ago Terry just up and announced he was breaking up with Nicky and moving out.”
Gray nodded. “He came into the diner where I work, scarfing pie like he was trying to make himself sick. It took some talking, but he told me about the break up, just wouldn’t tell me anything else about the guy.”
“Are you guys serious, you and Nicky?” Vic blurted out as he straightened from having put the drawer down.
Gray sighed. “I was hoping we would be, eventually. It started
as just a hook up, but it hasn’t been a one-time thing. Though, I have to be honest, I’m pretty sure he’s only doing it to get over Terry.”
Vic said nothing in response; he just headed up to get the next drawer. Gray followed, coming up the stairs behind him.
“I’ve no intention of hurting him, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Gray said. “And I’m not gonna walk away because he’s messed up right now.”
Vic nodded and pulled out a drawer. “I’m glad. He’s got enough of a struggle ahead without being dumped once more.”
“I’ll help as much as I can,” Gray said. “I just want to see him back to himself again.”
“Doubt you’ve ever gotten to see the real Nicky,” Vic said. “But I hope you will, soon.”
It took them most of the day, but they got everything moved down and the sheets washed and on the bed.
Vic pulled out a six-pack and passed Gray a beer. “Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime,” Gray said. “I mean it. Anything I can do to help Nicky I’m willing to do.”
“I’ll likely need your help getting him back and forth to physical therapy.”
“Give me a call whenever you need me,” Gray said. “My hours are pretty set in stone—one in the afternoon until eleven at night—but if he’s got morning appointments I can get him there.”
Vic nodded. “Afternoons I can handle, so I think we’ve got him covered.”
“Have they said how long yet, before he can come home?”
“They keep talking in weeks, so I don’t know. Figured if we just went ahead and got things ready here, he could come home whenever they decided to release him.”
“I hope it’s soon,” Gray said as his gaze drifted around the room. There were framed covers of dirt bike magazines everywhere, some of them signed. “Being in that place is making him cranky.”
“Tell me about it.” Vic chuckled. “Yesterday when I went to see him, he was cussing out the TV because there were too many channels showing people in the pool or at the beach, and he was pissed that he was stuck in that bed.”