by A. M. Arthur
After the trio left, Jaime stood up. He wrapped Eunice up in the best hug he could manage, and she wilted against him. They weren’t alone in the waiting room, so he led her over to an empty corner and they sat side by side. She wiped tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand, but more quickly spilled and took their place.
“I don’t know why I’m crying like this,” she said. “Alessandro is young and strong. God won’t take him, too.”
Jaime didn’t know what to say. She’d lost her husband of forty years just over a month ago, and now the one foster son who’d come back to help her was in the hospital, in serious condition. He wanted to comfort her, but he had no words to offer. Maybe his own life was a miracle, but in the three years he was on the transplant list, he’d seen a dozen fellow patients die while waiting for a compatible donor. Their families had had hope, too, right until the end.
“Alessandro’s a fighter,” he said. The words sounded hollow. “He’ll fight to stay for you.”
“And you, sweetheart. He cares for you, even if it’s difficult for him to admit. I see it in his smile when he talks of you. He can’t hide it.”
His chest hurt with the force of his own feelings for Alessandro. Their relationship was never meant to be more than a superficial fling, an education of sorts, and it had become more all on its own. He wanted Alessandro in his life. He wanted a chance to fall truly, completely head-over-heels in love.
“When you love someone, it isn’t easy to see them suffering,” Eunice said. She sniffed hard and wiped her eyes again. “In some ways, I’m glad my Sully went quickly. He died the way he lived—quietly and efficiently, but not without touching a lot of people.” She spoke with such love that Jaime’s eyes prickled with tears.
“I’m sorry he’s gone,” he said softly.
“So am I, sweetheart.” Her voice broke, and Jaime pulled her into another hug. “So am I.”
He held her while she continued to cry, mourning her husband and worrying for one of her kids. Jaime held back his own tears. He needed to be strong for her and for Alessandro. Maybe Alessandro wouldn’t know that Jaime was being strong, but it was something that Jaime could do. Right now, it was probably the only thing he could do.
Everything else was up to Alessandro and his doctors.
* * *
Jaime stared at the half-closed door, suddenly terrified of going into the room and seeing Alessandro there. They were allowed to visit him in ICU one at a time, for ten minutes at a time, and then not again for a few hours. His doctor expected him to be unconscious until morning. Eunice had gone in first. She’d needed so badly to see him, and now it was Jaime’s turn.
He hadn’t visited a patient in ICU in ten years. He’d forgotten how scary it was for the visitor. The starkness of the walls, the medicinal odor of the rooms, the quiet, hushed tones everyone spoke in over the symphony of squeaking and beeping and whirring. His mother had died in this hospital. He’d almost died in this hospital.
The single-bed room was identical to all the others he’d been in, and it smelled exactly the same. Jaime approached the figure lying quietly on the bed, his heart beating so hard he was positive the people outside could hear. He was sweating despite the cool temperature.
Alessandro looked like he always did when he slept, except his skin was a little paler and he had new bruises on his face. White gauze was wrapped around his head, and there was probably a shaved spot beneath it somewhere. The bandage over the stab wound was covered by both a gown and blanket, and it was just as well. There were too many other visible injuries to obsess over.
The knife wound was relatively minor, considering. It missed vital organs and arteries, and it should heal easily, barring infection. The head wound was the reason Alessandro was staying in ICU overnight. He had a concussion and minor swelling, and they were monitoring him for intracranial bleeding or edema. Monitoring, which was a good word. It meant that he hadn’t developed it, and it remained only a possibility.
Still, Jaime wouldn’t begin to relax until Alessandro was out of ICU completely and the doctor was able to rule out any sort of brain damage.
The only thing that made hearing any of those things from the doctor okay was knowing he’d hear it again later, repeated by a specialist at Justin’s trial. Shannon had told him earlier that the district attorney’s office might even swing for attempted-murder charges.
Whatever put Justin Maddox away the longest was okay by Jaime.
He tiptoed over to Alessandro’s bedside, unsure why he was being so quiet and cautious. Alessandro didn’t seem at all likely to wake earlier than the doctor expected. He didn’t know what to say to someone who was unconscious. Maybe he didn’t need to say anything. Seeing Alessandro alive and patched up helped alleviate some of the weight sitting on his chest. The rest would go away when Alessandro finally opened those big brown eyes and smiled at him.
Jaime brushed his fingers over Alessandro’s hand, careful to avoid the IV needle and its various tubes. “Anyone ever tell you how impulsive you are?”
His only answer was a gentle beep from the monitor.
“You walked into a bakery because you saw a help-wanted sign, and you took the job on the spot.” The first time he’d laid eyes on Alessandro, all disheveled and handsome and annoyed at Jaime’s arrival, was one of his fondest memories. “You left a job and apartment and friends in the city to come here and help your mom, all in a few weeks’ worth of time. You decided to make yourself my gay lifestyle coach after having known me all of four hours. And then you wanted to be Claire’s white knight and ride to her rescue last night without thinking through the circumstances of that text.”
Granted, Jaime had pretty impulsively chased after him without bothering to tell his sister or call the police. Alessandro might not have been hurt so badly if he’d done so, but he couldn’t change that decision now. These were the consequences, and they were dealing with them.
“I know this thing we have wasn’t supposed to be serious, but it’s too late for that, Alè. I’ll have to say this again when you can hear the words, but I want it all, and I hope you feel the same way.”
He gently cupped Alessandro’s limp, cool hand in his and held it, enjoying the contact, until the nurse told him his time was up. He leaned down to whisper into his ear. “Get well soon, because there are a lot of things we still need to do together, you and me.”
Alessandro didn’t respond or react, but Jaime hoped he’d heard the words, anyway.
* * *
Jaime nearly jumped out of his skin when someone began pounding on the bathroom door. He’d just finished showering and planned to head back to the hospital after he ate something. Spending all night there had been hell on his back, shoulders and general mood, and being scared to death by his sister wasn’t helping his stress levels.
He wrapped his towel around his waist and yanked open the door. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Shannon’s smile was so bright he almost smiled before she delivered her news. “Eunice called. Alè’s awake and being moved into a regular room.”
Another chunk of the weight on his chest fled, and Jaime let out a little whoop of joy. “So he’s fine?”
“So far so good, but it’s still a concussion and his doctor isn’t making any promises yet. It’s always wait and see when it comes to side effects.”
“I’ll take it, though. At least he’s out of ICU. I hate it up there.”
Shannon’s smile flickered. “Me too, Bug. No more ICUs, huh?”
“That’s a deal.”
She glanced down at his chest and the scar he didn’t think about as much anymore. She poked him gently over his heart. “Make sure he takes good care of that, yeah?”
He grinned. “I will. As long as you promise me you’ll get out there and find someone to take care of yours.”
“Jaime—”
“I’m not sick anymore. I’m doing great in school. The bakery is doing well. It’s time for you to have a lif
e, too, Shannon.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“There’s a cute nurse in ICU who I’m pretty sure isn’t gay—”
She gave him a light shove, then stepped out of the bathroom. “Get dressed and get your mind off playing matchmaker. I can find my own boyfriend.”
“Good. And when you do, I get to interrogate him.”
“Bullshit you do.”
“Watch me.” He closed the door before she could keep protesting his interrogation of her imaginary boyfriend. He did look forward to having the chance one day, though. His sister had done so much for him. It was finally her turn to be loved the way she deserved.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alessandro decided that the first thing he was doing when he got home today was digging up a notebook and pen to carry around. Especially when he asked for what was at least the third time, “When’s Eunice coming to pick me up?”
“At four.” Jaime shifted in the chair he’d occupied almost nonstop for the last…however many days, his expression mild and irritatingly patient. “She should be here soon.”
“Right. Thanks. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“It’s a stupid thing to keep forgetting.”
“It’ll get better, Alè.”
“Right.”
The concussion he’d sustained courtesy of Justin’s little setup on Sunday night was still haunting him, and not just because of the persistent headaches. He could take pills for the headaches until they passed. He couldn’t take pills for the short-term memory issues he’d been battling since waking up Monday afternoon.
Numbers had become as slippery as a bar of soap in the shower, dropping from his memory as quickly as he received them. He couldn’t remember his blood pressure five minutes after the nurse took it. He forgot the time if he wasn’t looking directly at the clock. All new input related to numbers, anyway. He remembered his birthday, his age, his height, the hours that Baker’s Dozen was open—everything he’d already known before the fight.
Dr. Spreck assured him that short-term memory loss was common with concussions and that he’d seen the majority of patients recover fully in time. The amount of time necessary varied by patient, though, so he made no promises. Alessandro was too relieved to be alive and that Jaime was uninjured by the encounter to be upset by temporary memory problems. He did, however, hate that his constant repetition was going to start irritating the people around him.
So far, Jaime was the portrait of patience. It would begin to wear thin, though, he was sure. They were only waiting for the nurse to return with his discharge paperwork before they’d head downstairs to wait for Eunice. She was coming for them soon.
What time was she coming?
He studied the clock. Big hand on the ten, little hand close to the four. That seemed familiar.
Alessandro slid off the bed and started to pace the room. He was dressed and ready to get out of this place, back to something normal and familiar. On his third trek across the room, his head began to throb, right behind his eyes, and he sat back down.
“She’ll be here soon,” Jaime said.
“I know, you told me.”
“Okay.”
“I just want to get out of here.”
“I know you do.”
Alessandro felt like an ass. “I bet you do, too. You’ve spent enough time in hospitals.” Watching Jaime interact with the hospital staff had been a clear reminder of the years he’d suffered from heart failure and an even clearer reminder of how easy it was to lose someone you cared about.
Someone you were pretty sure you were in love with.
“I wanted to be with you,” Jaime said. “You’re going home today, and that’s what matters to me.”
The nurse returned with his discharge papers and prescriptions, as well as an orderly and a wheelchair. Alessandro hated this part, being wheeled down to the lobby like an invalid, but his aching head didn’t mind so much today. Jaime followed behind with a bag of Get Well cards and the stuffed gorilla from Molly and Tony. “Because gorillas are tough,” Tony had said when they presented it to him yesterday.
Eunice hadn’t arrived yet, so he and Jaime settled on a couch in the lobby to wait. The world beyond the glass walls, autumn gray and rainy, had never looked more inviting. Puddles had formed in the pickup lane, and Alessandro watched fat raindrops splatter on the always-moving surfaces.
“Guess I should have grabbed an umbrella, huh?” Jaime said. He was working to hide a smile, and Alessandro clearly remembered the first time they’d been caught together in the rain.
“That may have been prudent.”
Jaime grinned. “Prudent?”
“Practical.”
They laughed, really laughed, for the first time in days. Maybe a hospital lobby wasn’t the most appropriate place for such loud, hearty laughter, but Alessandro didn’t care. He’d faced the biggest mistake of his past and he’d survived—not completely intact, but he was alive. Jaime was still with him, and they had plenty of time to figure out the rest.
“Thank you,” Alessandro said.
Jaime tilted his head. “For what?”
“Being here. For showing me that not everybody leaves.”
“I’m right where I want to be.” He glanced around. “Okay, maybe not right where I want to be, but I’m with the person I want to be with. As long as you want me.”
Alessandro took his hand and held tight, not caring who saw, stared or disapproved. Jaime was his, he was Jaime’s and the rest of the world could deal or go to hell. He finally knew what and who he wanted. “You know how when all this started between us, I said no expectations, no promises?”
Jaime’s eyebrows arched. “I did make one promise, as I recall.”
“If I ever do something you don’t like, you tell me.”
“I remember. I’m still holding you to that one, in all aspects of our relationship, not just sex.”
“Deal.”
“And I’m adding another.”
“Okay.”
Alessandro couldn’t help a quick glance around the lobby. No one was paying them any attention, so he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I promise to take care of your heart, if you promise to take care of mine.”
Jaime looked at him, eyes wide and full of something that looked a lot like love. “Deal.”
They sat quietly together after that and waited for Eunice. Alessandro couldn’t remember what time Jaime said she’d be along, and he didn’t ask again. She’d come sooner or later.
He rested his head on Jaime’s shoulder, and they continued to watch the rain.
* * * * *
Available now from Carina Press and A.M. Arthur
Detective Nathan Wolf tackles every case with the passion that he lacks in his persona life. A series of failed relationships with women has left him still single at thirty-four—because he’s too scared to admit to his longtime crush on his best friend James.
Read on for a sneak preview of
GETTING IT RIGHT,
the first book in A.M. Arthur’s new RESTORATION SERIES
Chapter One
Never said I’d let you fuck me...Get off...Let go!
Ezra’s words chased themselves around James Taggert’s mind as he stalked down the sidewalk, away from Pot O Gold, desperate to stuff his hands into his too-tight jeans pockets to keep them from trembling. Never in his life had he acted like such a selfish asshole and allowed a situation to get that out of control. He stopped a few blocks from the bar he’d abandoned and leaned against the cool bricks of a closed Mexican grocery store. He needed to apologize to Ezra, but he was too embarrassed and too drunk to make it as genuine as Ezra deserved.
His phone was at his ear, the other end buzzing.
“Jay?” Nathan Wolf’s voice was a balm to his frazzled nerves. “What’s wrong? It’s after midnight.”
“Price is getting out.”
“Shit, when did you find out? Where are yo
u?”
Having a best friend who knew all of his sordid backstory made times like this so much easier. “This afternoon. I’m outside the Pot. I’m fucked-up, Nate, and I did something. Something bad.”
“Stay put. I can be there in under ten.”
The phone call ended, but the calm of talking to Nathan was taking some of the edge off his panic. He tapped a cigarette out of the crumpled pack in his back pocket. Thumbed the lighter. He took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs to choking before releasing it hard through his nose. The stinging helped sober him up a bit more. He stared at the smoldering end of one of his worst habits.
I really need to quit. Again.
He’d quit five times in the past ten years, but kicking a habit he’d picked up at fourteen was hard. And not even a serious consideration when the cigarette in his hand was the only thing keeping him from pacing like a lunatic while he waited for Nathan. He shouldn’t have come out tonight at all, not after the news he’d gotten, but what else was he supposed to do when he found out Stephen Price had made parole? Sit home and stew until the anger made him crazy? He’d dressed up, splashed on his best cologne and come down to his favorite watering hole for peach mojitos and cock. Irish pub by day and popular gay bar by night, Pot O Gold was his preferred destination for both.
He had walked in, ordered his first drink from Riley, one of his favorite bartenders, and then perused the pickings. A lot of familiar faces. A lot of guys he’d already fucked. He didn’t have a rule about fucking someone only once, but too many repeat performances and some guys got a little clingy. He wanted sex, not a relationship.
Ezra Kelley had caught his attention immediately. He’d seen Ezra around the Pot on and off for the past year or so, sometimes alone and sometimes with other people. Bar chatter said Ezra was a good fuck. James had taken in the tall, lean body, the spiky blond hair and silver stud in his eyebrow. Even the purple sleeveless top that matched the strange purple contact lenses had turned him on. Perhaps because Ezra was the exact physical opposite of what James really wanted and could never have.