“‘Perfect’?” Ian tightened with anger whenever he thought about the ass who’d abandoned Josh when he’d needed him most.
“What about you?” Josh nudged him out of the way so he could start plating the food. “Your parents live here, but it sounded in the hospital like you don’t see them much.” He carried the food to the table. “Is it because they don’t approve of ‘the gay thing’?” His hands were full. Otherwise Ian was sure Josh would have made little air quotes.
Ian picked up a fork. “They’ve adjusted in the last year or so. My mom even makes cracks about going to Key West to march in a Pride parade. She has a hell of a sharp tongue when she’s being sarcastic.”
“I suppose it’s a good sign though. I wonder if they would adjust faster if they saw you more often.”
Somebody else telling him to spend time with his family. Ian sighed down at his plate. He dug into his breakfast. “You don’t work today, do you?”
“No, not on a Saturday. There’s always a chance I’ll get called in, but no regular appointments.”
“Can you give me a ride to the clinic? I won’t stay long, but I need to get my motorcycle. Or if you’re busy, I can call someone.”
Josh put his fork down and sat back in his chair, a serious frown on his face.
Ian sat up. Lord, what now? “What’s wrong?”
“I should have told you this yesterday, but you were in so much pain and . . . you just didn’t look like you could handle any more bad news.” Josh took a deep breath. “I spoke to Aguto a couple of days ago. She got a call from the State Board. They’ve been going over the clinic’s paperwork.” He hesitated. “I think there’s been a report—a complaint—that everything is not entirely the way it should be at the clinic.”
Anger seized Ian’s gut. “Not what it should be? What the hell does that mean?”
Josh spread his hands in a don’t shoot the messenger look. “I don’t know. She said they might be examining your budget and the staffing levels. They’re going over all the papers with Aguto’s signature, and it’s making her nervous.” He leaned forward. “If you did anything . . .”
Ian shot to his feet. “I’ve never lied on the paperwork.”
“Can it stand up to close scrutiny?”
“I’ve never forged her signature.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The budget . . . Hell, I don’t know. I’m not that good at the financial tracking. If I have money, I buy what I need. I get small donations from a lot of people and I don’t always . . . Christ.” He sat down heavily. “If they really wanted to make a case, I suppose they could.” He grimaced. “It was Langdon, wasn’t it? He’s always had it in for the clinic. Thinks it isn’t safe, not for the patients and not for the workers.”
Josh didn’t answer, and Ian gave him a hard look. “What? You agree?”
“You know I do. I’ve said so from the beginning.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m doing the best I can.”
Josh sighed. “Here’s the thing. I went to the station the day you got hurt, right after I talked to Aguto.”
“You did?”
“That’s when I found out about the fire.”
Ian sucked in a breath. “You came to warn me. Even though you were mad at me.”
“Yeah.” Josh’s mouth twisted. “Well, I thought you should know you might get a call from the board, and that Aguto is planning to resign as medical director— Hell, she may already have resigned, although I would think she’d talk to you first. And I may have been feeling a bit guilty because . . . um . . .”
“What?”
Josh rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I may have told Langdon and Burke about treating the Fuentes girl. And that you had to call me because Aguto was never around.”
“Seriously?” Ian stared at him.
“Yeah. Um. Sorry?”
“Ah, hell.” The anger drained from Ian, leaving only despair behind. Who was he mad at, anyway? This was his own fault, no one else’s. He just didn’t have the skills, the personality, the . . . the . . . whatever it was that would have made the clinic a success. He didn’t have it.
Ian leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. “Doesn’t matter. This would have happened sooner or later.” That was it then. The clinic wouldn’t survive this. “All I wanted to do was help.”
Josh came around the table and knelt in front of him, taking his hands. “Please tell me why it’s so important to you. I really want to understand.”
God, now? When everything was crashing in around him? Ian’s hands trembled, but Josh’s grip helped steady him. “When I was out on a mission, flying high and feeling invincible, there was a kid. Old enough to be a soldier, so an adult in the eyes of the government . . . But God, young. GSW to the abdomen. I was sure I could treat that kid by myself. I didn’t call the other medics, I didn’t transport as fast as I should have. That’s what the drugs do. You may think I’m pushy now, but you should have seen me then.”
Ian drew a shaky breath. How many times had he wished there was a way to bury that memory so deep that it would never see the light of day? But here he was, dredging it up—for Josh. Because Josh deserved to know what kind of man Ian really was. “I lost him of course, and the guilt made the addiction worse, made me want to work harder, treat more people, never sleep.”
“Do you think he would have survived if you had transported him sooner?”
“I don’t know. Probably not, according to my doc at the base hospital, but who can believe a thing that liar said? It doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t do what I should have done. Nothing can change that.”
“So the clinic is your atonement.”
“That’s what my sponsor thinks.” My attempt at atonement, anyway. And now I’ve even failed at that.
Josh stood. “There are plenty of ways to make a difference, Ian. It doesn’t have to be all about the clinic.”
“I suppose.” Ian followed him up and then let Josh wrap him in consoling arms. He took the comfort, despite knowing he didn’t deserve it. He returned the hug, clinging desperately while the lithe muscles held him securely. Burying his face in the crook where Josh’s shoulder met his neck, he breathed him in and then lifted his head, seeking a long, reassuring kiss. After everything he’d just said, did Josh still feel that connection between them? How could he?
“It’ll all work out,” Josh murmured against his mouth. “You’ll see.”
For one moment—one short, blissful moment—Ian believed him.
The doorbell rang, followed immediately by an insistent knocking.
“Oh hell no.” Josh jolted away. “I know that knock.”
The knocking came again. “Impatient asshole.” Josh jerked open the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice.” The man brushed past Josh, striding in like he owned the place. “I missed you too, babe.”
He stopped short, eyeing Ian narrowly. Ian stood with his arms crossed, returning the piercing gaze of the slick, handsome man in the designer suit, every sandy-blond hair immaculately in place. This had to be the ex.
With a slow pan, Marcus took in the two plates with their half-eaten breakfast, his expression unreadable.
Ian let his gaze linger on Josh while he waited for an introduction. His color was high. From anger? Or embarrassment?
If it was embarrassment . . . Was he ashamed to be with Ian? He’d never acted like it.
“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Marcus raked his gaze over Ian, clearly taking in the muscles, bandages, and tattoos. The belligerent stance too, and Ian knew it, flexing his crossed arms so his muscles bulged, and ignoring the burning pain that brought to the back of his upper arm.
Marcus’s nose wrinkled. “Are you serious, Joshua? Who is this?”
“Ian,” Josh ground out. “Ian Manolas. This is Marcus Beaumont.”
Marcus nodded and then turned back to Josh, clearly dismissing Ian.
Josh’s eyes went a col
d shade of gray. Okay, now that was anger, not embarrassment. “Again, why are you here?”
“We were together for two years. We were supposed to get married. Did you think I was going to let that go without at least talking to you?”
Married? Josh had never said anything about marrying Marcus.
“We did talk. There’s nothing else to say.”
“There’s plenty. I couldn’t hold your job any longer, but there are other openings.”
“I . . .” Josh hesitated, shifting his look to Ian, clearly upset.
What did that hesitation mean? Now that he’d overcome his fear, he was ready to go back to work in a hospital? But not in Naples.
“Joshua.” Marcus pulled Josh’s gaze back to him, taking his hand. Josh stiffened, but he didn’t take his hand out of Marcus’s. “I miss you. Give me a chance to have my say.”
Ian fought the urge to act the possessive boyfriend and beat the smug smile off of that asshole’s face. But a couple of nights and zero promises did not a boyfriend make. He had no right to interfere, unless Josh asked him to stay.
Did Josh want him to stay? Or leave the two of them alone so they could . . . what? Make up? Go off together, back to their real lives?
“I’m going to the room and get my stuff.” He left, hoping Josh would join him so they could have a minute alone.
Josh took the hint, following Ian into the bedroom a moment later.
“Look,” Josh said. “I didn’t know he was going to show up, and I don’t know what he’s doing here.”
“That’s obvious.” Ian paced the room, trying to rid himself of the nervous energy threatening to boil over. “And it’s very obvious what he’s doing here. You said it yourself. He wants everything back the way it was before the attack.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“You don’t think? You can’t be serious, not after the way he treated you!”
“I need to talk to him. I owe him that much.”
“You owe him? How do you owe him?” Ian asked, his voice rising. Josh raised an eyebrow and Ian winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell.”
“Ian.” Josh took Ian’s shoulders, stilling him. “Marcus and I spent a lot of years together. He came all this way. I can give him few minutes.”
“Is this—” Ian stopped, breathing hard. Is this what you really want? He didn’t ask it, afraid of the answer. But . . . if the ex could make Josh happy and . . . and hell. The man seemed like a cold bastard, but he’d probably never killed anybody. Probably didn’t carry guilt around with him like an anchor hanging from his neck. “Okay.” Ian looked into those lovely, earnest gray eyes. Beautiful. Josh was so beautiful, inside and out. Who could blame his ex for trying to get him back? “Do you want me to stay?”
“No. You have things to do. Marcus won’t want to talk with someone else around, and I think we need to settle this.”
Ian’s chest ached as he pulled Josh in for a kiss, making it a long, thorough one so Josh would have a good memory of him. Just in case Josh decided to take up his old life, Marcus and all.
And why wouldn’t he? He’d loved his job in New York, and now he could have it back. He’d loved Marcus enough to want to marry him. Ian could see them together, clear as day: the two of them dressed in fine suits, going to some expensive New York restaurant and then on to an art opening. Then the next weekend, donning their tuxedos to attend the latest fundraising gala for the cause of the day.
There was no competing with any of that, and on the day Ian had found out he was losing his clinic, he just had no fight left in him.
“You go on out there,” he told Josh. “I need to call Lucia for a ride.” He gave Josh another squeeze and then forced himself to let go, turning away to take a quick wipe at the stupid stinging in his eyes.
“She can take you to the clinic, but you shouldn’t be riding your bike this soon after a concussion, and you know it.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll make sure I take care of myself.” He started gathering his clothes, keeping his back to Josh. Hiding his face. “I’ll pack up and then call her on the way out.”
“Okay. I . . . I’m sorry about this. You should come back later and we’ll talk.” Then Josh left him alone.
Ian finished packing, but when his vision became too blurry to see what he was doing, he had to pause to swipe at his eyes with the bottom of his shirt. Then he found a pair of dark sunglasses in his bag and put them on before striding past Marcus and Josh without a glance, and out the door.
Josh had been so sure that moving down to Florida was the right move. A fresh start, a new job, new people. No going into that ER every day, seeing the room where he’d been attacked, talking to the people who’d witnessed one thing and then hedged when they were questioned later. Why would he ever want to go back there?
But here was Marcus, bringing all that with him, and all the good times too. Seeing him sitting at Josh’s table where Ian had been moments before gave Josh a weird sense of displacement. He took his time clearing the dishes and getting both of them some coffee so they could sit and talk like civilized people.
After setting the cups on the table, Josh sat down and watched Marcus add creamer to his coffee with sure movements. Just thinking about the touch of those long, lean fingers against his skin had once given Josh a raging hard-on.
“I know I should have called first,” Marcus said. “But I didn’t think you’d answer after our last conversation.”
“You’re right.”
Marcus’s fingers tightened on his cup. “I don’t deserve this anger you have toward me.”
Josh’s brow knit. “No?”
“Well.” Marcus paused. “Maybe some of it.”
“Are you here to apologize for not coming to see your fiancé when he’d been gutted by a knife? Or for abandoning me to the hospital goons?”
Marcus stiffened. He was not a man who apologized easily. “I should have come to see you.” Pain crossed his face as he forced out the words.
The knot of anger Josh had been carrying for months loosened just a little. That acknowledgment wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d thought Marcus would ever give him.
Then Marcus had to add, “The aftermath of the . . . incident . . . was insane. I worked twenty-four seven trying to control the story, trying to smooth things with the donors. I did ask after you. Your doctors told me you were recovering, but . . . yes. I should have made the time.”
“You need to work on your apology skills.”
He winced. “I’m not used to it.”
“Because you can do no wrong.” Josh didn’t try to hide the bite of sarcasm. “And what about the lies in the papers?”
“Lies?”
“Yes, lies. I tried to tell the truth about the lack of security, and the hospital turned around and made it sound like the attack was my fault.”
“‘Lies’ is a bit of a strong word, isn’t it?”
“No,” Josh said flatly. “I don’t think it is.”
“That was the hospital PR machine, not me, but they were doing their jobs like I was doing mine.”
“And what about me? You don’t think that had any effect on me?”
Marcus sighed. “It was business. Don’t take it so personally.”
“There was no other way to take it.”
“Let’s put this behind us.” Marcus reached for Josh’s hand, and Josh let him take it, too much in shock to resist. “We had a good life, didn’t we?”
“We did.” He gazed at Marcus’s face. His neat hair had come loose, and a strand fell over one blue eye. How odd to see him not totally put together, but Josh had always liked him best like this, when he lost just a bit of his perfect reserve.
“We can have it again,” Marcus said. “Will you come home?”
Home. Back to the city. Back to the condo they’d decorated together. Back to their busy social life of dinners, parties, concerts, all planned by Marcus any evening Josh wasn’t working. And Josh had
enjoyed it, had enjoyed coming home afterward and making love. They’d been happy. Could they be that way again? Was it . . . Would it be worth trying again?
Josh looked down at their clasped hands, more than a little bewildered. “Do you want me? Or do you want the life we had?”
Marcus stared at him blankly. “What’s the difference?”
“What’s the . . .” Josh’s breath caught. “You really don’t . . .” God, he couldn’t even get the words out. He withdrew his hand. “It was nice to see you again. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but really . . . I’m glad you came by.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Is it him? That tattooed gym bunny? Never thought you were that shallow.”
Battling a surge of anger, Josh stood. “You don’t know him.”
“And maybe I never really knew you.” Marcus said. “Or you’re confused. Do you see a future with him?”
Josh thought about it. “It doesn’t matter. I may not know what I want, but I sure know what I don’t want.” He looked at Marcus pointedly.
“Well.” Marcus gazed down at the table for a long moment, and Josh almost felt sorry for him. Then he stood. “I have a plane to catch.”
“You’re leaving already? How long have you been here?”
“A week.”
Josh stared at him.
“You know my parents live here in one of the beach enclaves.” Marcus strode toward the door.
Josh walked with him to the door. “How would I remember that? I only met them once, in New York. Is that why you’re here?”
“My mother needed a hip replacement. I came down to make sure she got into rehab.”
“That’s it?” Josh asked, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “That’s why you came down?”
“And to talk to you, of course.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Ian had taken everything. Josh sat on the bed and looked around his bedroom, at the empty chair where Ian’s bag had been, at the empty corner where Josh had thrown Ian’s clothes after stripping them off him the night before.
The Doctor Takes a Detour Page 18