The Magic in Your Touch

by Sara Bell

  Nate took down a large mixing bowl and began measuring out the ingredients for bread dough. He would make several loaves tonight, then freeze what they didn’t eat the first couple of days. He’d just added the eggs when Brandon came in looking tired and frustrated.

  Nate didn’t say a word. He walked over to the refrigerator and handed Brandon a beer, then took his coat and hung it in the mudroom. Brandon muttered his thanks and headed towards the living room. Nate finished mixing all the bread ingredients and put the dough aside to rise. By the time he got into the living room, Bran was more than halfway through his beer, but his mood didn’t seem to have improved. Nate walked over to the chair where Brandon was slumped and sat on his heels in front of him.

  “Rough day, I take it.”

  Bran took another swig of his beer. “I’m beginning to think that’s the status quo around here.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not much to talk about.”

  “Considering that you’ve consumed almost an entire sixteen ounce can of beer in less than five minutes, I find that hard to believe.”

  Brandon sat the near-empty can on the coffee table and leaned back in his chair.

  “Do you remember me telling you that some of the most successful businesses in Reed were owned by openly gay couples?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, H. and G. Dry-cleaning and Alterations is one of them. Or, I guess I should say was. The place burned to the ground this morning.”

  Nate’s stomach began to roll. “Arson?”

  “The official report is inconclusive, because of all the flammable materials and heat-driven presses dry-cleaners use. At least, it was inconclusive until I found a letter on my desk claiming responsibility for the whole thing.” He picked the beer back up and downed the rest of it. “According the writer of said letter, it is now ‘fag season’ in Reed, Illinois. The fire this morning is just the beginning.”

  “So the attack on me really was a gay bashing.”

  “Either that, or someone is going to a hell of a lot of trouble to make it look that way. The thing is, Hal Wallace and Glen Payne have both lived in Reed most of their lives, the past twenty together as a couple. I can’t understand why someone would just decide to target them after all these years.”

  “You still think the guy that’s after me is doing all this to make it look like a gay-bashing, don’t you?”

  Brandon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I just don’t know, Nate. I mean, Reed has a population of just under fifteen thousand. Going by the current statistics that at least ten percent of the U.S. population is gay, and then rounding up slightly to account for Reed’s reputation of being friendly to gays and lesbians, that gives a rough estimate of about two hundred homosexuals living in or around town. Granted, a good chunk of them are probably still in the closest, but if I tried, I think I could name at least fifty gay people here in Reed who make no secret about their sexual preferences. Most of those folks have lived here for years without incident. Why now? We hadn’t had a single recorded case of gay-bashing until that first attack on you.”

  Nate said, “Meaning my being here in Reed started this whole thing, so it must be my fault, right?” He rose from his heels and headed for the stairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  Nate paused on the top step. “If your theory is correct, and all of this is just some kind of ruse to get to me, the rest of the gays and lesbians in Reed will be safe once I leave.” You’ll be safe.

  Brandon got up so fast, his chair turned over. “No way in hell are you leaving, Nate.”

  Nate didn’t answer. He went up to the guest room and opened one of the suitcases he’d bought when he replaced all his clothes. He was putting in several pairs of boxer shorts when Brandon came through the door.

  “Maybe you didn’t here me the first time. I said, you aren’t leaving.”

  Nate didn’t even look up from his packing. “Unless you plan on arresting me, you can’t stop me.”

  Brandon leaned against the doorframe. “You think not?”

  Nate crossed to the closet and pulled out a handful of dress shirts. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you, Brandon.”

  Bran crossed his arms over his chest. “Good. Since we aren’t going to argue, put your stuff back in the closet.”

  “No.”

  Brandon came to stand in front of Nate. “So what, you’re going to run out on your patients, run out on Amy?”

  “I’ll keep paying my half of the expenses until Amy can find another partner for the practice. She’ll understand once she hears about the fire and the letter. As for my patients, I haven’t really been here long enough for any of them to become dependent on me.”

  “So what, you’re going back to Atlanta?”

  “Maybe.”

  The tone in Brandon’s voice made Nate wince. “Now that your brother has deemed you worthy, and your folks are going along with it, you’re planning just to go crawling back to them? You think you can be one big, happy family, again?”

  Nate wanted to cry, but he forced himself to shrug and say, “It beats sitting here waiting for someone to torch another business. And what if he doesn’t settle for just destroying property this time? What if he ups the stakes and kills someone?” What if he comes after you.

  Nate moved towards the closet again, but Brandon blocked his path. “And what if leaving is exactly what this guy wants you to do? What if the whole purpose is to lure you out and get you alone so he can finish what he started?”

  “I’m willing to take that chance if it means keeping the others safe.” Nate tried to walk around him, but Brandon wouldn’t budge.

  “Well, good for you, but I’m not willing to take a chance on you getting killed just so you can play noble.”

  Nate looked him right in the eye. “You have no say in this.”

  The anger that flashed across Brandon’s face was chilling. “That’s funny, because I seem to remember a conversation a few days ago in which we both agreed we were starting something here.”

  “Starting is the operative word, Brandon. Since we’ve been taking things so slowly, there really isn’t that much to end, now is there?”

  Brandon snorted. “Yeah, well who’s fault is that?”

  Nate did his best not to let Brandon see how much that statement hurt. “I knew you would throw that in my face sooner or later, especially the way you’ve been pawing at me like a stag in rut lately. Guess it’s a good thing I’m leaving before you implode from sexual frustration.”

  Brandon was so angry now, Nate could almost feel the rage vibrating from his skin. “You know what? Maybe you’re right. I’m sure there are plenty of guys in this town who wouldn’t mind being pawed at. God forbid anyone should offend your virgin sensibilities.” He turned to go downstairs, but not before saying, “Thank God I never fucked you. I don’t relish the thought of frostbite on my dick.” Nate listened in stunned silence as Brandon’s footsteps echoed down the stairs and the front door slammed shut. He gathered the rest of his clothes and headed for his car. He had a hard time seeing through his tears.

  He wanted to go back and tell Brandon the truth, that he was the one Nate was really scared for. If the guy who was after him found out about his feelings for Brandon, he would become the next logical target. In just two short weeks, Brandon had become everything to Nate. His heartbeat skipped every time the man walked into the room, much less the way he felt when Bran kissed him. He felt more at home in Bran’s house than he had anywhere else, ever. Just the thought of anything happening to Bran was more than Nate could take. Better to have Brandon hate him than to see the man he loved hurt, maybe even killed. The man he loved? God help him, but it was true. He was head-over-heels in-love with Brandon Nash.

  He pulled out onto the main road with no idea where he was headed. If he was in love with Brandon, was it possible that Bran might feel the same way? And if he did, was Nate hurting him worse by walking
out on him than if he stayed and they fought through this thing together? Brandon was a complete pro when it came to his job. If anyone could catch this guy, he could. What if he left and the attacks continued, anyway? By doing that, he would rob them both of the chance to be find happiness. God, he was so confused. He needed to talk to Amy. She always knew the right thing to do.

  He saw a curve in the road with a place to turn around just on the other side. He would go to Amy’s and talk this through, then call Bran and explain his reasoning. He only hoped he would be willing to talk to him after the horrible things they’d both said.

  Nate approached the curve doing fifty. He put his foot on the brake to slow the car down, but nothing happened. He pushed the pedal again and his foot went all the way to the floor. He was doing fifty around a blind curve with no brakes. As soon as the car went into the bend, Nate knew he wasn’t going to make it. He closed his eyes and pictured Brandon’s face one last time before his serviceable little Honda ran off the road and crashed into a tree.

  * * *

  What in the hell was he doing? Brandon sat behind the desk in his office and thought back to all the things he’d said to Nate. If they gave out awards for ‘Ass of the Year’ Brandon would win by a mile. He knew Nate well enough by now to know why he was really leaving; Nate was trying to protect him.

  If he was honest with himself, he knew Nate’s reasoning all along, but he’d been just frustrated enough to let his anger get the best of him. Now Nate was probably gone and Brandon would have the devil’s own time finding him. He would, though. No way was he going to let Nate get away from him. Especially not when he was taking a chunk of Brandon’s heart with him.

  If anyone would know where Nate was likely to go, it would be Amy. Bran picked up the phone and almost had the number dialed when Sam came in.

  “Boss, we’ve got a report of an accident off of Highway Four. An ambulance is on it’s way and I’m headed out there now, but it sounds like a bad one. You want to ride out with me?”

  Bran grabbed his coat. He usually handled the more serious accident scenes himself because of all the red-tape involved. He said a silent prayer that no one was hurt and headed out.

  They rode in Sam’s cruiser with Brandon sitting shotgun. Fire and rescue must already be on the scene because he could see flashing lights in the distance.

  “Any word on who it is?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Because of the winding road and the rescue vehicles already taking up the shoulder, Sam parked the cruiser several lengths back. They were met by a deputy half-way there.

  “Boss, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who it was or I would have called you.”

  Brandon stared at the young officer while dread settled in his gut. “What are you talking about, Collins?”

  “The doctor. I don’t know what happened, but he slid off the road and hit a tree. Must have been going—” Brandon took off at a flat run. He got to the wrecked car just in time to see the medics pulling Nate’s prone body from the twisted metal. He had a thick gash above his left brow and his blood covered right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. What got to Bran the most, though, was the pallor of Nate’s skin. He looked lifeless, dead. Brandon took one look at the man he’d come to think of as his and did something he’d never done in his life: he fainted in a rush of blacktop and agony. Chapter 5

  The last time they were at a hospital together, Brandon used his sick sense of humor to help Nate hold it all together. Now he wished someone could do the same thing for him. But even as he wished it, he knew better. All the laughter in the world couldn’t erase the fear in his soul as he sat in the surgical waiting room of Chicago General, desperate for any word of Nate.

  Keith sat down beside him and handed him a cup of coffee and an ice pack. “If you’ll come down to the office, I’ll disinfect that for you.”

  Brandon’s fingers gingerly brushed the raw flesh of his cheek. “That’s what I get for passing out like some rookie at the scene of his first accident.” He took a sip of the scalding coffee, barely noticing when it burned his mouth.

  “Under the circumstances, I think you can be excused.” Keith leaned back as far as the plastic chair would allow. “At least come down to my office and wait. The surgical staff will know to page us down there as soon as any news comes in.”

  Brandon started shaking his head before Keith even finished. “I’m not leaving him, Keith. I’ll wait right here until he comes out of surgery.”

  Keith knew better than to argue. “I called Mom. She’s gathering up the troops and heading on over.”

  “Nate hasn’t even had a chance to meet the rest of them yet. We were supposed to have dinner at Grandma’s next Sunday.”

  “There’ll be other Sundays, Bran.”

  “For me, maybe, but what about Nate?” He glanced at the closed doors of the operating wing. “It’s been over six fucking hours, Keith. Why haven’t they told us anything?”

  “He has internal bleeders that have to be sealed off, buddy. You know it takes time to do that.” He was quiet for a minute. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Brandon discarded the coffee cup and icepack, put his head in his hands, and nodded. “You know what the worst part is? I’ve never even told him. I kept telling myself that I couldn’t possibly be in love with him after only two weeks. Now I’m sitting here thinking that if he dies, I’ve got nothing left. Fourteen days and already I can’t imagine my life without the guy.”

  “Love’s like that sometimes. I knew within three days of meeting Maria that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. It only took me two years to convince her that she felt the same way.”

  “Yeah, well, if Nate makes it out of this, I’m going to have some convincing of my own to do. We had a fight right before he left. I said some really bad things, Keith. He said some stuff, too, but you know me, I always have to have the last word.” He choked on the words. “I never thought I might literally have it. What if I don’t get the chance to take it back?”

  Keith hauled him to his feet and pulled him against his chest. “Stop talking like that, Bran. Dr. Lincoln’s the best surgeon we’ve got. The chief of surgery asked him to operate on Nate as a personal favor to me. The guys a complete asshole, but if anyone can repair the damage, it’s him.”

  A commotion at the other end of the hall broke them apart. When Gale told Keith she was bringing in the troops, she wasn’t kidding. All of his brothers and sisters, except for Les and Randy, who were away at school, crowded into the waiting room with their various spouses. Brandon’s dad came in next, explaining that the grandparents would be there first thing in the morning, but tonight they were keeping the kids so the adults could come to the hospital. That was fine with Brandon. As much as he loved his nieces and nephews, he had about all the distractions he could handle at the moment. As it stood, twelve people, counting him and Keith, were crammed into a private waiting room built to seat eight. Brandon never knew standing-room-only could feel so good. For the first time since Nate was brought in, he felt a glimmer of hope. Amazing what family could do for a man. He made a mental note to introduce Nate to this crazy mob the minute he was able.

  Gale came over and gave him one of those soothing hugs that only mothers know how to give. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?” She touched his scraped cheek. “And what happened to your face?”

  “My face is alright. Physically, I’m fine, but they won’t tell us anything, Mom. I’m going out of my mind here.”

  “Patience never was one of your virtues, son. I’m afraid you inherited that from your father. Let me go up to the desk and see what I can find out.”

  Keith shook his head. “They won’t tell her anything.”

  His father walked up behind them. Dean Nash was a big man, his body strong and fit from the long hours spent building up his construction company. Now semi-retired, Dean kept fit by helping his son Wayne with his own contracting jobs. Dean patted Keith on
the arm and put his other hand on the small of Brandon’s back. “Never underestimate your mother, boys. She’s a force to be reckoned with.” He turned Brandon around so he could see his eyes. “You okay, son?”

  “No, sir, but if he makes it, I will be.”

  Keith went to watch his mother do her magic, while Brandon’s sisters and sisters-in-law left to get snacks and coffee. Wayne stepped outside to smoke, giving them some privacy. Dean led Bran over to a couple of empty chairs, all but pushing Bran down into one, and taking the other for himself.

  “Have you called his folks?”

  Brandon’s face hardened. “No, and I’m not going to, either. His friend Amy and her husband Mike are coming as soon as Amy finishes up an emergency call, but I have no intention of contacting his parents. As far as I’m concerned, they gave up all rights to know about Nate’s welfare when they threw him out six years ago.”

  “Your mother said Nathan’s brother came to visit him a few days back. Don’t you think he’d want to know?”

  “Last time we talked about it, Nate still hadn’t made up his mind about whether or not he even wanted to see Seth again. The last thing I’m going to do is call him so he can summon the rest of the family up here to cry crocodile tears all over Nate’s bedside.”

  “Speaking of family, you know your mother’s adopted that boy, don’t you? She thinks Nathan Morris is two steps away from sainthood.”

  Brandon smiled for the first time since arriving at the accident scene. “He says the same thing about her.”

  “He has good taste, then. I can’t wait to meet this young man who has my wife and my son so captivated.”

  “He’s amazing, Dad. He’s funny and loving . . . God, he has the biggest heart. Did you know they call him ‘Magic Touch Morris’ because he spent his residency taking care of premature babies born with addictions to heroin and cocaine? He and Amy don’t even charge the patients who can’t afford to pay. And he does other things, too. Every night when I come home, he’s there waiting for me. Usually has dinner on the table, too. I tease him about making someone a good little wife someday, but he’s one of the least feminine men I know. He is gentle, though. He lets me vent and rave about my day without ever saying a word. Sasha’s totally in love with him. Hell, he’s even taught her to shake. She won’t even sit for me, but Nate’s got her doing tricks after only two weeks.”