by E M Lindsey
Derek shoved the guy’s front to the brick wall, Basil at his side ready to end him as Mat stumbled to Wyatt’s side and eased him up. “Are you hurt?” Mat asked.
Wyatt let out a shaking laugh. “Yes. I think I broke my fucking fingers on his face.”
Mat gingerly took Wyatt’s hand and prod at the knuckles. They were already swollen and there was a very real chance he’d cracked them. “I take it you don’t hit people a lot?”
“No,” Wyatt said with a pained hiss as he eased all the way to sitting. “And I was a little bit panicked. I don’t know how the fuck he found me.”
Mat’s eyes went wide, a breath stuttering out of him. “Is that…”
“Ioan,” Wyatt spat. “One of the things I wanted to talk to you about tonight was the email he’d sent me. I just didn’t realize he was already here.”
Mat eased Wyatt to his feet, then reached down for his cane, pressing it into Wyatt’s hand as he looked over at Derek. Ioan was still struggling, though not much, and Derek looked like he was waiting for orders.
“What do you want to do?” Mat asked quietly.
Wyatt let out a small breath, then shrugged. “Call the police. He’s a resident of Canada and a citizen of Wales. Assault charges will fuck his visa.”
“If you’d just talked to me, you fucking wanker,” Ioan said, but his voice went muffled as Derek shoved his face harder against the wall.
“Who has him?” Wyatt asked.
“Derek. He has his face mashed against the brick, though I think you did most of the damage,” Mat said with a high, tight laugh.
Wyatt dragged his injured hand down his face, wincing. “Did I get his balls?”
“Yeah,” Mat said, a softer laugh this time. “He’s going to feel that for a while.”
At that, Wyatt let out a small chuckle. “Good. He cornered me in the bathroom and grabbed my cane so I couldn’t leave.”
Mat knew how much Wyatt hated when people used his blindness to try and weaken him, and he knew that Ioan had always seen Wyatt’s limitation as a vulnerable place to strike. Which made him the worst kind of bastard there was.
He looked over to see Derek still holding the guy with one hand while dialing with the other, and he sighed, turning back to Wyatt. “Your hand is almost certainly broken. We need to get ice on it, and I’ll see if Amit has anything in first aid that can stabilize your fingers until we can get you to the hospital. Baz is here, can you hang with him?”
Wyatt nodded and Baz, who seemed to have followed at least some of the conversation, walked over. “He’ll be fine. Derek’s not letting that dickhead go,” Basil said. It was incredibly rare to hear his voice, but the few times he had spoken in the past had been for Wyatt’s benefit.
“I’m going to get first aid and ice,” Mat said, signing as much as he could.
Basil nodded, then offered his arm for Wyatt to keep him oriented and grounded. Mat reluctantly peeled himself away, fighting the urge to kiss Wyatt deep and slow and long—enough so that the ache in his gut went away. But there was no time.
He walked through the door, his legs a little shaky as he found Amit behind the bar. The rest of the guys were there, looking worried, but he ignored them for a second as Amit walked over and leaned in close.
“First aid kit?” he asked.
Amit frowned but nodded. “Yeah, what happened?”
“Long story,” Mat said. “Can you bring it outside to Basil? Also, uh…the cops are probably going to be here in a second.”
Amit reared back, his eyes fixed hard on Mat’s lips like maybe he’d misunderstood. “Did you just say cops?”
“Wyatt was attacked in the bathroom. Derek has the guy pinned to the wall.” Mat grabbed Amit’s arm as he pulled away to run off. “It’s his ex. We’re trying to keep it quiet.”
Amit nodded, looking worried but determined, and Mat knew he could trust him. “Meet me out back?”
“Yeah,” Mat said, and pulled his hand away. Gripping the bar, he braced himself for the barrage.
Niko was first, taking Mat by the arm and spinning him toward the group. “It’s loud as fuck in here, but I’m pretty sure you just said Wyatt was attacked outside by his ex.”
“In the bathroom, but yeah,” Mat said, then held up both hands when all of them scrambled to their feet. “Wyatt’s already freaking out enough, and if you all go out there…”
Sage had only stopped moving because Will was holding him back, and James looked ready to strangle someone. “I want to see him,” James demanded.
Mat’s mouth dropped open to refuse, but he realized that if anyone else could be a huge comfort to Wyatt, it was the man he’d been living with for the better part of a year. He glanced at Rowan who gave a short nod, then Mat held out his hand and felt instant comfort when James took it. He gathered himself for only a moment, then turned and left with James at his heel.
“Hey,” James said right before they reached the door. His hand fell to Mat’s waist and he spun him. “Are you okay?”
Mat’s laugh was almost hysterical. “No. Fuck, dude. Amit saw Wyatt take off running and I got out there to see some asshole shoving him into the side of the dumpster.”
“What the fuck?” James growled.
“Then Wyatt decked him in the face, which was beautiful, but he broke his fucking hand doing it,” Mat said.
James sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Remind me to teach that boy how to throw a punch.”
Mat laughed again, then took James by the front of his shirt and dragged him back out. It was a flurry of movement then, with two cops at the entrance to the alley, their flashing lights blinding and unkind. Wyatt was leaning against the far wall giving his statement to one of them, and Ioan was leaning against the cop car with his hands cuffed behind his back.
It was the first chance Mat really had to get a good look at the guy. He had a decent shiner from where Wyatt had clocked him, but even with a bruised, swollen eye, Mat could see he was attractive. All sharp lines and chiseled cheekbones. But knowing how ugly his insides were took away any appeal.
Mat swallowed back bitter rage and the desire to walk up and kick the guy in the balls a second time, and he walked over to Wyatt, gently touching his hand and ignoring the look the cop gave him. “How’s your hand?”
“Hurts,” Wyatt said.
The cop sighed impatiently. “We offered paramedics, but he refused.”
“I have medical training,” Mat said. “I’ll get him patched then then take him to the ER, it’s fine. No need to waste the EMT’s time.”
The cop gave him a dubious look, then glanced over to where Amit and James were waiting in the shadows. “Well, Mr. Adley, we have everything we need. We’ll be in touch soon.”
Wyatt gave a stiff nod, looping the strap of his cane around his wrist before taking Mat’s hand with his good one. Neither of them said anything until the cops had Ioan in the car, and once it was backed out of the alley, Wyatt sagged against him.
“Is he gone?”
“Yes,” Mat said. He picked up Wyatt’s hurt wrist and grimaced. The top of his hand and his middle finger were swollen and starting to bruise. He motioned for Amit to bring over the kit, then sighed when he found nothing but some medical tape, a couple of bandages, and some slightly off antibiotic cream. “I just need some ice,” he said, taking out the tape.
“On it,” Amit told him.
He hurried off inside as James came around to Wyatt’s other side and braced him with his body. “You got this, man?” he asked Mat.
“Yeah. But babe, this is going to suck, okay?” He fucking hated that Wyatt was going to have to hurt more, but it was almost worth it knowing that Ioan would be in his own amount of pain.
“Just get it over with,” Wyatt said through gritted teeth.
Unfortunately, Mat knew this was only the start. He’d get his hand stabilized and iced, but he was going to be poked and prodded, then set and splinted at the ER, and he’d be in more pain before he sta
rted to feel any better.
Still, it felt good to do something. It felt good to call upon his ancient, rusty training to put the man he loved a little bit back together again. It caused a stinging wave of nostalgia to rush through him, and he pushed it aside to focus.
Amit returned with the ice just as Mat was getting the tape secured, and when he pressed it to the top of Wyatt’s hand, his lover sighed and sagged against him.
“Better?” Mat asked, stroking his fingers through Wyatt’s hair.
“A little, yes.”
Mat looked up at James who had stayed in close. “Can you give us a lift?”
James rolled his eyes for what Mat knew was a stupid question, and he leaned in to give Wyatt a half-hug. “I’ll have Rowan bring the car around.” His lips grazed Wyatt’s cheek, then he came around and pressed a firmer one to Mat’s. “I love you. I’m sorry. And I know cops were the right choice, but I wanted to kill that son of a bitch.”
Mat laughed. “You and me both.”
Wyatt didn’t give an answer other than to tighten his grip on Mat and let out a small sigh, and Mat wound his fingers into Wyatt’s hair as James hurried back in. He realized then they were alone—Derek and Basil having taken off, and Amit had gone back to work. The alley was eerily quiet, but it was comforting in a way.
“Okay, now the truth. Are you alright?” Mat pressed.
Wyatt shrugged, his eyes closed as he breathed steadily. “I was…a little afraid, but mostly pissed off. I can happily credit the surgery for giving me enough sight that I was able to find the door and then get the hell out of the bathroom. But euh…”
Mat’s brows dipped with some anxiety. “But what?”
“The other thing I meant to talk to you about—I’ve been in contact with the organization I got my old guide dog from, and I’ve been thinking about getting another. Tonight just solidified that decision.”
“Would Pomme have bitten his balls off?” Mat asked with a tiny smile.
He was rewarded by a tiny chuckle, pressed into his collarbone. “No, but people are wary of dogs when they don’t understand what they are and aren’t capable of. Ioan was around Pomme all of her life, but he never bothered to know her. I want that feeling back.”
“Do you think I’d be opposed?” Mat asked, a little frown creasing his forehead. “Is that why you hesitated in telling me?”
“No,” Wyatt assured him, and he tilted his head up to steal a kiss. “I’ll be gone for a few weeks—the training program is in Montréal.” He smiled a bit when Mat stiffened. “I don’t plan to tell my family—or anyone—about it. They have a facility for me to stay. Then they’ll fly here to do a home visit. Which was my real concern.”
Mat heard the car pull up to the curb, so he squeezed Wyatt’s arm before taking a step away. “You think James will be an issue?”
“No, but I think I’d like my own space. Only,” Wyatt stopped, biting his lip.
Mat’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. “Only?” he pressed, though he had a feeling where Wyatt was going.
“It sounds insane,” Wyatt told him, which confirmed it.
“Talk to me.” Mat shifted them so he could cup Wyatt’s cheek with one hand, using the other to draw Wyatt’s injured fingers to his lips. He kissed them over the tape, stroking his thumb over the swollen knuckle.
“Maybe you and I…”
Mat gave a frustrated groan when Rowan’s arrival interrupted him. But maybe now wasn’t the time. Wyatt was hurt, and Mat needed to make sure he was better. There would be plenty of time to address it later.
Mat put Wyatt to bed after they left the ER, his boyfriend safely splinted and reassured that it was a hairline fracture and as long as he refrained from using it too much, it would heal up without lingering issues. Mat asked all the questions he knew the answers to, only to reassure Wyatt, who hadn’t ever broken a bone before, then quickly got his script filled at the pharmacy on the first floor.
Rowan and James had stuck around, and Wyatt dozed against Mat’s side in the back of the car as they headed back to James’ place. It was further incentive for Mat to work hard on getting his license back. Having the freedom to do this without waiting around on his friends—maybe offering Wyatt something a little more stable and secure when they moved in together? He knew Wyatt didn’t care that he didn’t drive, but he wanted to be able to bring something to the table besides ex-resident MD with a TBI and a list of issues that could fill a novel.
“Hey,” Mat said, gently rousing Wyatt when they pulled around to the back of the house.
Wyatt yawned, scrubbing at his face and looking so adorable, it made Mat’s stomach twist. He muttered something in French, the drugs clearly working, and Mat just laughed and pressed his cane into Wyatt’s hand.
“Come on, cowboy. We need to get some food in you, and then get you to bed. I’ll even put Tombstone on for you to fall asleep to.” Mat knew it was more than the drugs that was making Wyatt sluggish. The psychological impact of his confrontation with Ioan was going to take a toll—if not now, then soon. Right now, Wyatt was pliant and sleepy, but soon enough his emotions would rise to the surface, and Mat wanted him somewhere he felt safe.
“Y’all need anything?” James asked, twisting around in the seat.
Mat reached over Wyatt to open the door. “Nah, I don’t think so, but I’ll text if I do.”
“We’ll be at the house tonight,” James told him. “Promise me you’ll come get me if you need anything.”
Mat put his hand over his heart, then reached to steady Wyatt who started to slump out of the door. “Promise.” He got them both out, and carefully guided Wyatt over the rocky ground, finally getting him inside and tucked up on the sofa. There wasn’t much in the way of food, but there was enough for sandwiches—which in the end was good since there was no damn space in the house. It really was great in the interim, but Wyatt would need something bigger if he was going to bring a dog home—even if he didn’t actually want Mat involved.
Pushing that thought aside, Mat walked to the sofa and gently eased Wyatt into a sitting position. “Come on, babe,” he said, coaxing Wyatt around, “just need to get a little food in you so when it comes time for your next dose of pain meds, you’ll be good to take them.”
Wyatt grumbled a little, but he managed half the sandwich with his good hand, and half a glass of water. It was enough for Mat, who set the rest aside and poked at the splint. It was okay, but not the best it could have been.
“Can I adjust this for you, baby?” he asked.
Wyatt’s brow furrowed. “Mm?”
“The splint. It’s fine, but it could be better.”
Wyatt waived his other hand, slumping down a little. His eyes were mostly closed, just a sliver showing the gentle motion of his eyes behind the lids, and he was complacent as Mat carefully took the splint off, re-adjusted his fingers, then set it back again.
“You should do this,” Wyatt said.
Mat frowned. “What?”
“This,” Wyatt repeated, then waved his hand at Mat. “You’re so good at it. You were softer than the other doctor. Gentle. T’es parfait.”
Mat chuckled, leaning in to kiss Wyatt. “I know what that means, and I’m far from perfect, babe. Trust me.”
“I do,” Wyatt said, with all the seriousness of a drug-addled mind. “I trust you. I love you. Want to live with you, and my new dog. Bigger house with a kitchen and a bath.”
Mat felt his stomach twist with want and hope—with desire for all those things, but also with fear that Wyatt was just talking through his medication haze. “Let’s talk about this when you’re not all hopped up on opiates, yeah?”
“Mm,” Wyatt said. “Did you say something about Tombstone?”
Mat rolled his eyes as he laughed. “Of course you’d remember that. Come on, let’s get to bed.”
Mat gingerly eased Wyatt to his feet, then got them to the bedroom. It took a little effort to strip the other man down, but soon enough they were tu
cked under the covers, Wyatt curled up against his side, his injured hand resting carefully on Mat’s hip.
“Mm. Movie,” Wyatt murmured, his words thick and slurred from the opiates.
Mat brushed his fingers through Wyatt’s disordered hair and sighed. “How about instead, you tell me what we’re going to do when we go to Tombstone?”
Wyatt’s eyebrows went up. “You want to go with me?”
Mat chuckled and leaned in to press his nose against Wyatt’s temple. “I want to go everywhere with you. Tell me what we’re going to do when we get there.”
Wyatt hummed, his eyes fluttering closed again, and he nestled closer. “Crystal Palace,” he said. “Sasparilla. Carriage rides, Birdcage, horses.” His words started to trail off.
“Sounds perfect, cowboy,” Mat murmured.
Wyatt’s grip on him tightened just a bit. “He’s…not a cowboy. He fought them. Cowboys.”
“And won?” Mat asked.
Wyatt gave a sleepy laugh and shrugged. “Bien sur. He’s Wyatt Earp, he always wins.”
“Just like you then,” Mat said.
Wyatt’s laugh was a little bitter this time. “Not like me. Was a coward for so long.” He breathed out a heavy sigh when Mat traced a finger along his jaw, and he swallowed thickly. “You like me anyway.”
“More than,” Mat assured him. He picked up Wyatt’s tender fingers and kissed the ends, which poked out of the splint. “And you’ve never been a coward. Just because you didn’t show your bravery like other people wanted you to doesn’t mean you’re anything less. That’s why I…” The words died on his tongue, because he wasn’t going to tell Wyatt he loved him when the other man wouldn’t remember it. He kissed his hand again and eased it down when he realized Wyatt had fallen asleep, snoring gently against the side of Mat’s chest.
His fingers dug into the back of Wyatt’s hair, holding him tight as his mind replayed the events of the night, and he tried to chase away the ugly feelings left behind. It had gutted him not to be able to bash Ioan’s face into the ground for what he’d done. Not just for the stalking and attempting to torment Wyatt at the bar, but for everything else in the past. But it hadn’t been his fight, and Wyatt had been more than capable of taking matters into his own hands. But Mat loved him—there was no possible way he could deny that now. He loved this man, and he wanted to curl around him and protect him from ever hurting again.