For the Love of Flowers

by Kelsey Hodge

  Wyatt looks at me with a grim expression on his face. “You know the police will want to talk to you.”

  “Yes, I know, but there’s nothing I can say. I don’t remember anything.” At least I’m honest, but I remember thinking Dad organized the beating. I wasn’t supposed to survive. “Wyatt, how did I get to the hospital?” It’s a question that has been on the back of the subconscious since I woke up. I never saw the face of my guardian angel, but I hope Wyatt can give me some answers.

  Wyatt leans over and hands me a piece of paper. I unfold it and look at the words. ‘MY NAME IS LORENZO ROMANO. DO NOT CONTACT FAMILY. CALL THE IN CASE OF EMERGENCY (ICE) NUMBER IN CELL’ I look up at Wyatt, so confused, and my eyes plead with him to tell me what the hell is going on.

  “You were left at the emergency room with that note, and the phone was a cell that only contained one number—mine,” Wyatt states.

  “Just your number?” I ask, and Wyatt nods. That’s so strange. Why just his number? Nobody knew about him, so how the hell did someone get his number? I never mentioned him at the family meal, so that means someone knew I was with Wyatt before I came out.

  “Yes, and the hospital listened to the note. Your family wasn’t contacted. Surprisingly breaking protocol.”

  “Has anyone else visited me?” I already know the answer, but I still ask all the same.

  “Just me and Liam,” he replies. Even though this was the answer I was expecting, it still hurts. “Oh and someone called Frank, but he didn’t stay long.”

  That piece of information surprises me. “Frank. Are you sure?” I need to make sure I heard the right name.

  “Yes, and I think he’s the one who brought you to the hospital too.”

  “Really!” Frank, why the hell would he be involved? He would never go behind Dad’s back or a direct order. I remember him being told not to take me anywhere. I guess he would have been told not to contact me too.

  “He came to the hospital about a day or so after you were admitted to check on you. The moment I told him you would be okay, he tried to hightail out of here. I stopped him, but he didn’t give me much information. All I got out of him before he left was his name. Does it mean something to you?”

  Here it is, the crossroads. Do I not say anything and keep pretending it was a mugging that left me in the hospital, or do I tell Wyatt everything that happened? I decide to go with the truth.

  “Frank used to be my driver. He’s on Dad’s payroll. On the night I was robbed, I had been at my parents’ house. I told them I was gay. Dad went nuts and threw me out of the house and told Frank not to take me home.” I take a deep breath. “I think he organized for me to be robbed. Wyatt, I wasn’t supposed to live.”

  The look of shock on his face is hard to miss. Nobody wants to say their parents are evil but in this case, mine are. Wyatt, of all people, will understand that and know what I’m saying is the truth.

  “Are you sure? Your dad is into some dark shit but to murder his own son?”

  “Dad will never accept that I’m gay, so he would rather have no son. The quickest way to get that done is to take said son out of the picture.”

  “Surely, you don’t believe that.”

  I look Wyatt directly in the eye before answering, “I believe that with every fiber of my being.”

  “Are you going to mention that to the police?”

  “It would be pointless. There would be no way to link it back to Dad. I won’t lie to the police, but there’s no way I can tell them everything.”

  “At the moment, it does look like a very violent robbery. Nobody would believe that a dad would organize something like that, so I agree that it’s best not to tell them.”

  “You know this is a very in-depth conversation to have with someone who has a concussion. Thank God the marching band has packed up,” I try to lighten the situation, but Wyatt looks at me and glances at his watch.

  “The police are coming by, aren’t they?” I realize, and Wyatt wants to know what I’ll tell them.

  “Yes, today at three.” He looks almost apologetic.

  The entire conversation catches up with me, and I feel entirely drained. I need to rest. I need to build my strength back up to get through the interview.

  “Wyatt, I’m suddenly feeling exhausted. I’m going to take a nap. If I’m not awake when the cops arrive, please wake me. I want to get this over with.”

  “Sure thing, Lorenzo. Get some rest.”

  I lie back on the pillows and close my eyes with a shy smile on my face. Wyatt is still with me, even though I’ve woken up. He’s again staying by my side, and that small bubble of hope I have increases. When the darkness descends, I’m filled with dreams of flowers and family.

  All too soon, I hear a voice bringing me out of the darkness, a slight shake of my shoulders, and Wyatt’s gentle voice. “Loreno, the police are here.” I open my eyes slowly, checking on the brightness. As my consciousness comes awake, everything is like before except the marching band has packed up.

  “Mr. Romano, how are you feeling? My name is Detective Dylan Rogers, and this is my partner Detective Morris Tyler. Are you up to answering some questions?”

  I look over to the detectives who are smartly dressed in dark trousers, a plain white shirt, and matching jacket. I almost want to laugh at their look. I’ve seen Wyatt dressed like this when going to work, but then he works in a different area, but still. I bite my lip for a second, nod my head, and watch as they pull a couple of chairs up to my bedside.

  “I’m feeling a lot better, thank you. But I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. I don’t remember much about the night.”

  I spend the next thirty minutes going over everything with them and answering all their questions as best I can. They soon realize I won’t be any help. I cannot even give them a description. But as they’re about to leave, they ask me a question that makes me stutter.

  “Why was there a note not to contact your family and a cell left with Detective Johnson number on it?”

  For a second, I contemplate lying, but as they have my name, they could pay a visit to my parents, and that would be bad. So, I go with a half-truth.

  “Let’s just say my family doesn’t approve of my lifestyle choices, but I have no clue why the cell was left. Detective Johnson is my emergency contact on all my paperwork anyway.” I catch the look of surprise on Wyatt’s face.

  “Okay. Thank you for your help today. I have one more question. Do you know who left you at the hospital?”

  “Sorry, but I have no idea, Detective. I remember being picked up and then nothing until I woke up in this bed.” The detectives stare at me, trying to gauge if I’m lying or not. I must have looked convincing as they get up from the chairs to leave. Detective Rogers goes into his jacket pocket, pulls out a card, and hands it to me with the typical “if you remember anything important, call me,” and they leave.

  I look over to Wyatt and ask, “Do you think they’ll be back with more questions or worse, visit my parents?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think so. If I had been working the case, the statement you gave would have been useless—no offense. You gave no clues and no description; it will be recorded as a cold case and closed down.”

  A yawn escapes me. I hadn’t noticed how much the interview had taken out of me, and all I want to do is sleep again. Just as I’m about to lean back into my pillows and close my eyes, I get a visit from the doctor.

  “Lorenzo, how are you feeling today? Headache, dizziness, or any nausea?”

  “My headache is gone, and no dizziness or nausea, but I’m getting tired a lot. Is that normal?”

  With a smile never leaving his face, he replies, “Of course that’s normal. Your body has been through a lot, but it will get back to normal with rest.” The doctor goes through all his tests, including shining the light in my eyes thing, which sucks. “You’re healing well. I think we should be able to discharge you in couple of days.”

  “I’m going to hold you to
that, Doctor.” I smile back at him. I can’t wait to get out of this place. I stifle another yawn and relax back into the pillows, knowing that in a few days, I’ll be back at my apartment, in my own bed, hopefully cuddled up to my cop. With this thought on my mind, I close my eyes and drift into the darkness with a smile on my face.

  Chapter 12 – Wyatt

  I unlock the front door and walk in, shouting, “Honey, I’m home.” I cannot help but chuckle as I hear Liam’s groan.

  “Wyatt, that wasn’t funny the first time you did it. It isn’t funny now, and it won’t be funny the next time either.”

  I walk further into Liam’s apartment, which is nice but nothing like our place. It’s basically three rooms. The front door leads down a hallway straight into the living room/kitchen, with a bedroom and a bathroom to the left down another small hallway. As I am currently sleeping on his couch, I planned to only stay here until I had time to think and process what I had found out about Lorenzo. Then he got attacked, and he needed me there.

  Liam is sitting on the couch, which he placed right across the middle of the living room/kitchen to break up the two living spaces. He mounted the television in the middle of the end wall and was currently watching some program, I didn’t recognize.

  “How’s Lorenzo doing?” Liam asks.

  “Better. Says his headache has cleared, but he’s still getting tired easily. The doctor said this is normal. He can be discharged in a couple of days.”

  The relief on his face is instant. He has been concerned, and it warms my heart that he thinks so much of Lorenzo. It also makes me feel guilty knowing his opinion could change if he knew that Lorenzo has confirmed he’s a Romano.

  “Does that mean you’re going back to the apartment?”

  There’s the million-dollar question, and the truthful answer is I have no fucking idea. Lorenzo will need me for the next few days while he gets back on his feet, but I cannot shake the fact my trust in him is gone. How am I ever going to believe anything he says? The worst part is that in the back of my mind, there’s a nagging little voice telling me that Lorenzo is still not telling me the entire truth. I look over to Liam; he’s still awaiting an answer to his question.

  “Honestly, Liam, I don’t know,” I tell him as I work over to his couch and flop down next to him.

  “What the fuck happened? Did he confirm what we found? Don’t get me wrong, but that robbery is bullshit too. Talk to me.”

  Again, my dilemma is in front of me. Should I tell Liam. Telling him will help me, by having someone who’ll give me their opinion. This is huge and has enormous implications to our job, but I’m guessing he would feel the same betrayal I do.

  “It’s complicated.” Sure enough, Liam calls me on that response.

  “That’s a cop out. That’s what you tell a girl when you break up with her because you’ve lost interest.”

  I cannot help but laugh at that. “I’ll have to take your word on that, considering I’ve never broken up with a girl before.”

  “Wyatt, cut the crap and tell me what’s going on.” I’ll have to figure something out or tell him the truth. I can’t tell him the truth without talking to Lorenzo first.

  “I’m sorry, Liam, but now, I can’t. I need to talk to Lorenzo first.”

  “You know, this is confusing as shit.”

  “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I need to talk, but I can’t until I talk to Lorenzo. I will when I go back to the hospital.”

  “So, tonight then?” Liam states with no underlying question. He means business. “What time are you planning to go back?”

  “Couple of hours. Gonna grab some food and have a shower first. Want to make sure I’m there when Lorenzo wakes up.”

  “Will see you later then.”

  With that, Liam gets up from the couch and makes his way to his bedroom without so much as a backward glance. He’s pissed off, and he knows I’m keeping something major from him. Under normal circumstances, he would be the first person I speak to. He’s been there for every one of my breakups—not that there have been many. He’s even been my wingman, coming to bars and clubs when I needed to let loose, even though he’s straight. He has been my person, the one I could always turn to. Being a gay cop hasn’t always been easy. Some idiots still spout shit on how gays shouldn’t be on the force, and every single time, Liam has been there to shut those fuckers down. It kills me that I’ve been put in this situation, but it kills me even more that Liam knows I’m keeping something from him. With one last look at Liam’s firmly closed door, I check the time and make my way into the kitchen. I feel so drained, if it weren’t for wanting to get to the hospital, I would take a nap. If I get into my bed, I’ll wrap myself up in my blankets and never come out. That won’t solve anything.

  Two hours later, I’m back at Lorenzo’s bedside waiting for him to wake up. He looks so peaceful; even the worry lines around his eyes are smoother, if that’s possible. It looks like he’s smiling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile in his sleep before, which means I hope he’s having good dreams.

  “Mmmm, Wyatt,” Lorenzo mumbles in his sleep. I can’t help but chuckle. I understand the smile now. He’s having a good dream, and it looks like I’m involved too. I shouldn’t, but I lean over and kiss him gently on the lips. Even this light pressure is enough to wake him, and he kisses me back. For the briefest of moments, all the troubles are forgotten. I lick his top lip and without hesitation, he opens for me. I slip my tongue inside, tasting him like he’s the last drop of water in the Sahara Desert. Without even thinking, I push my hands through his hair, trying to deepen the kiss. Suddenly, Lorenzo yelps in pain, and I jump back from him, both of us panting.

  “Oh fuck, Lorenzo, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I ask, checking him over.

  He laughs and places a hand on my cheek. “No, my head is still a little tender, but that was a lovely way to wake up.”

  I smile at him but reach up to remove his hand from my face. Watching his face fall kills me, but I’m not ready for that level of intimacy. I’m a complete hypocrite after the kiss we shared, but I cannot help it. I’m about to talk to him when the doctor enters the room. I must stop myself from groaning; I wanted to talk.

  “Lorenzo, nice to see you awake. I’ve been reviewing your charts. How do you feel about going home tomorrow? I still want you on bedrest, but I think you can do that at home, if there’s someone who can check on you.”

  “I can check on him and make sure he rests,” I say instantly.

  “Okay then. I’ll organize the discharge papers, and you’ll be ready to go home tomorrow afternoon,” the doctor confirms.

  I see the relief on Lorenzo’s face. He has been dying to get home. “Thanks, Doctor. I’m ready for home.” The doctor shakes his hand and leaves the room. With this development, I must make some things clear.

  “I won’t be staying at the apartment, Lorenzo. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I know,” he says, unable to hide the sadness in his voice.

  “We need to talk, that’s all. We can do that once you’re home.” He nods, and I decide to ask him about Liam. “Look, I have to ask this. I need to talk to Liam; he’s the only person I trust.”

  I’m shocked to see the surprise on his face. “You haven’t said anything to him yet.”

  “I wasn’t sure if I could.”

  “Wyatt, Liam isn’t just your partner but your best friend. I know this. I fully expected you to talk to him. What I told you was a lot to take in, but I have to say I’m surprised Liam didn’t figure out who I was before. He’s one of those guys who could find the needle in a haystack.”

  This has me smiling; he’s not wrong. Liam would check and double-check everything which is why I have him looking into the Fiore Rosso. If there’s anything to be found, he’ll find it, and I guess he did.

  “To be honest, Liam did discover who you are. After I saw you at the funeral, I asked him to investigate you. Up until I asked, he wasn’t looking into your family.” I gi
ve him a sly smirk and even Lorenzo must laugh.

  “Wyatt, talk to Liam. Tell him everything. Confirm everything. I don’t want to lose this, and I’ll do anything to keep it. You’re the best thing in my life.”

  I’m blown away by this. “Thank you, Lorenzo.”

  “Please, don’t thank me. I know you would need to talk. Just promise me there’s hope; that’s all I want.”

  I can promise him this, so I pick up his hand to place a kiss on his knuckles. I look him in the eye and say, “There’s hope.” I’m gifted with one of his brightest smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

  I stay at the hospital for the next few hours, and once Lorenzo is sound asleep again, I lean over, scrunch up my eyes tight, and place a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you. I love you.”

  As I walk in the front door to Liam’s apartment, I cannot help but call, “Honey, I’m home.” I chuckle to myself when I hear the groan coming from the couch.

  “Really. Again?” Liam says, but I see the smile on his face.

  “You love it, and you know it,” I tell him.

  “If you say so. How’s Lorenzo this evening?”

  “Still tired, but the doctor said he can go home tomorrow. He was happy with that.” I see the relief on his face.

  “So, you’re going back home tomorrow?” Liam asks, but I think he’s going for more of a statement.

  “I’m going to collect him and make sure he’s settled at the apartment, but if it’s okay, can I still stay here?”

  “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you and Lorenzo?” I’m surprised he went there and if I’m not mistaken, there’s some venom behind those words.

  “Yes,” I say simply.

  “Good, then you can stay, but if you’re a pussy and this thing with Lorenzo isn’t that serious, you’re out of here,” he says at the same time as flicking a hand towards the door. Finally, there’s a little humor even if it’s overshadowed by the seriousness of everything.

  “Did you call me a pussy?” I say in mock horror.