Changes, p.22
Changes, page 22
“I quit.”
“Hell. I’m looking at flights now.”
“What? You think I can’t make it as a civilian?”
“I didn’t say that but… tell me you don’t want me to come.”
He wanted Charlie, with an intensity that made his chest ache. “I don’t want you to come.” He hung up.
Two minutes later, the phone warbled Charlie’s ringtone again. He tapped it on. “What?”
“I can’t get anything tomorrow that’s even close to affordable, so I’m waitlisted tomorrow, and on a flight the next day. I’ll text you details.”
“I don’t need you to come.”
“Try not to get arrested or break any fingers hitting walls before I get there.” This time Charlie cut the connection.
Nick stared at the screen. The thought that Brian had no other way to reach him was the only thing that kept him from flinging it across the room. Fuck Charlie for knowing him too damned well. And fuck me, for wanting someone to lean on. He was getting soft, there was no denying it. He waited, eyes on the phone, until the text chimed with the details of Charlie’s possible flights. Then he got up and went to the kitchen, followed by the dog.
Wrote down Charlie’s info on the note pad on the fridge, just to be safe.
Let the dog out.
Went upstairs, Luger at his heels, and crawled onto Brian’s bed, while the dog curled up on the mat. Nick wrestled himself under the bedclothes still dressed, suddenly too tired and chilled to get up and undress. The phone stayed right beside the bed, near his head, in case. He checked a couple of times that the ringer was set on max volume, fit to wake the dead. Not that he’d sleep, most likely, but if Brian somehow called, he’d be sure to hear it.
Chapter 12
The next time Brian woke, he felt less fuzzy. He kept his eyes shut, remembering, and listening, and smelling things. Not a hospital. Wrong sounds and odors. Anyway, he remembered seeing Lori, and she wouldn’t be caught dead in any hospital. So somewhere private. Not at home though.
He opened his Finder eye carefully, behind the dark of his closed lids. The pain lurked, waiting to slam him, but he needed to know about Nick. He managed only a couple moments of searching, before the lance of agony made him shut down, eyes scrunched, breathing fast. No Nick! The only thing keeping him from screaming was that he hadn’t seen a trace of Lori in there either, and he’d seen that Lori was okay. No Damon trace either, and Lori had called his name like he was around and alive.
So it wasn’t that Nick was dead. Couldn’t be. It’s my Finding that’s still worn out. Something like that.
He breathed in short fast huffs through his nose. A male voice said, “Bry? Are you awake?”
“Hurts?” he whispered, because that was the truth and gave nothing away.
“Where?”
He raised a hand, surprised he could move, and gingerly touched his temple. The skin didn’t feel hot or broken on the outside, despite the searing pain inside. “Ouch. Help?”
“Okay, easy, I’m a doctor. I’m going to give you a pain injection. It might make you a bit sleepy.”
“Done sleeping.” But he desperately wanted the relief. He couldn’t think with his head throbbing like it was being smashed open. “Hurts.”
“I gave you the shot. It’ll take a minute or two.”
He focused on counting his shallow breaths, until a warm wash of something blunted the edges of the pain, and he could take a deeper sigh. “Oh. That’s good.”
“I’m glad. We’ll talk about what you need in a few minutes. Let it take full effect first.”
Brian opened his eyes. A vaguely familiar guy in a scrub top and jeans leaned over him, dark eyes fixed on his face. “Hi. Doctor?”
“Yes. You can call me Doc.”
“Okay.” He had a flash of memory— hearing Lori say that. The headache flared again, and he squeezed his eyes closed a moment, wishing he was sharper. He moved gingerly on the bed. Legs. Arms. Something tugged at his left arm, and he glanced over, spotting the IV in place. Other than the pain in his head, he actually felt better than he had waking from a Find in a long time. Not hungry, not nauseous, not even having to pee. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not. He couldn’t remember much. Who was I Finding? Did it work? Where’s Nick!
Damon had drummed safety into him, though. Waking up with a stranger around meant staying safe. Being careful.
Staying Bry?
He chewed the inside of his cheek. He’d tried so damned hard to be strong and not do Bry anymore, but if he was going to see Lori and Damon, that’s who they’d expect. His head hurt too much to make big decisions. Why not fall back on Bry for a while? It’s like being in the closet. You can always come out later, but never go back in.
So he said, “Where am I? I don’t know this place. Do I know this place?”
“I don’t think so. This is your brother Damon’s house.”
That raised more questions than it answered. “Do I know you? Are you Damon’s too?”
And wow, that was an interesting bright flush under the deep brown of the doctor’s skin. “No. I’m just a friend.”
Brian had a moment’s impulse to push, to ask, in Bry’s innocent tones, if that meant boyfriend. But Damon might own a man in a lot of ways, and blackmail was the most likely and sex the least. It wasn’t fair to be mean about it. “Where’s Nick?” It couldn’t hurt to ask.
“I don’t know any Nick.”
“He’s a cop and he’s short, well, shorter’n me, and he’s pretty. He fights good too. I live with him. And my dog. Where’s Luger? Can I have my dog?”
Doc huffed a breath. “I’m just here to take care of you. Damon will have to answer any questions.”
“Oh. Okay. You took care of me good. I don’t even have to pee. That’s really weird, you know? Mostly, I have to pee real bad when I wake up.” He reached down under the sheets with his free hand, trying to figure out what he was connected up to.
Doc grabbed his wrist. “Don’t mess with that. There are tubes and so on. Now that you’re awake, we’ll start getting you unhooked.”
“Good. I don’t like hooked.” His head still hurt, but the pain was becoming distant, the lovely meds forming a puffy wall between him and the headache. He tried to prop himself up on one elbow, but the doc’s hand on his shoulder kept him flat on the bed. “Where’s Lori? Where’s Damon? Where’s Nick? Will they be here soon? Real soon? Super soon?”
“I don’t know.” Doc’s voice was definitely less professionally smooth now. “You should relax and sleep some more.”
“I slept too much. I lost Nick. Where’s Nick?” He tried to look around, but his neck was stiff too, and he winced. “Ow, ow, ow.”
“Hold still!” Doc coughed, and deepened his tone. He seemed awfully young for a doctor, but if he said he was, then Brian wasn’t going to argue. He’d never even graduated high school, so what did he know?
“I want to see things.”
“Later. I’m going to examine you right now. I’m going to ask some questions about how you feel.”
“Will you answer questions too?”
“If I can. Will you lie still?”
“Maybe?” He gave Bry’s slow, wide smile, even though it pulled at the tender tightness of his face. “If I can.”
Doc actually chuckled. “All right. I’m going to start with some touching and tapping. Then a light in your eyes. If anything hurts tell me.”
Brian lay still through a pretty familiar round of “Does this make your toes curl?” and “Can you feel this?” The penlight did hurt his eyes, and he squinted and whined about it. Falling back into Bry was almost like taking a drug. Just letting go, no filters, no adulting, no effort. Later, he’d hate some of what he said, but right now it was easy-peasy.
When Doc moved the covers to check his legs and feet, Brian saw some unfamiliar plumbing. “Hey. I have a tube on me. And a tube in me! Gross!” What the heck? A tube actually poked right in through the skin of his belly. “Get it off me!”
“Hush. That’s to give you food. It’ll come out as soon as you’re eating all right.” Doc grabbed his flailing hand, even though Brian had enough sense not to mess with something poking into his skin.
“You stuck a tube in me!”
“They did it at the hospital. Keep calm.”
“What hospital? There is no hospital.” I was in a hospital? Where? When? Nick!
“Before you came here. Don’t worry. You’re fine. I can take it out.” Doc patted his arm. “You’re doing great. I’m very happy with how good you look and sound, after that long sleep.”
Long coma? He couldn’t believe they’d put in a feeding tube. “How long?”
“You’ve slept for seven days.”
“Wow!” He pressed his lips together to stop and wait and think. Seven days. He’d never pushed himself to the edge like that before. It bothered him to the point of panic to realize he couldn’t remember his last Find. What did I do? Where was Nick? Where is Nick! And if that blank, threadless darkness in my head is permanent… He hummed a little tune, and tapped in time with fingers that felt clumsy and tired. Not thinking about that. Not thinking. Not yet. Nope, nope.
Doc said, “We’ll take it slowly. It’s hard on your body to sleep that long. We’ll let you wake up slow.”
“I want Damon!” He needed answers, but he couldn’t trust this stranger.
“I called him when you started coming around. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” The doctor went across the room and came back with a cup with a straw in it. He raised the head of the bed, which went up like a hospital bed, with a power button. Brian squinted at the railing as his shoulders were raised. It is a hospital bed. Where are we? The doctor held the cup near his face and directed the straw to his lips. “Take a small swallow. Just one.”
The water running over his tongue brought home how foul his mouth tasted. He made an exaggerated face. “Tastes icky.”
“Try another one. Carefully.”
He sucked a small mouthful, then a bigger one. When Doc pulled the straw away, he licked his dry lips and said, “Water is good.”
“Your throat feels okay? Any upset tummy?”
No sensation of nausea at all. He pressed his mouth shut tight. He had an odd double vision, like part of him was Bry lying here in this bed, being checked by the nice young doctor. And part of him was Brian, hovering above somewhere, watching. “No. I like it. More?”
“We’ll wait a couple of minutes to be sure. Than you can have another sip.”
“Meany.” But he didn’t have the usual desperate thirst either. Probably because he had an IV in his arm. “Do you live here too? Where is here? Is this Minnesota?”
“I think I’ll let Damon answer your questions.”
“But Damon’s not here and you are here. Don’t you even know what state this is?”
Doc frowned, but said grudgingly, “It’s Florida. And Damon will be here soon, I’m sure.”
Florida? Brian kept the panic from showing on his face. “I’ve never been in Florida. Are there alligators? Is there an ocean?”
“Yeah. I guess.” Doc straightened and set the cup on the little table, glancing at the door.
Brian said quickly, to stop him leaving, “My tummy is good. Can I have more water? Please?”
“Oh. Yes.” Clearly Doc was more comfortable with patient care, so Brian asked for water, then complained of an itch in his feet, then pretended he was going to pull on his stomach tube. He kept Doc busy. Then the door opened and Damon walked in.
He looked the same, but maybe sharper. Like the edges of Damon had been polished and made more dangerous. Doc looked at him with relief, but also something that might be caution. “He’s awake.”
“I see that.”
“Medically, his recovery is amazing, although I’m still dripping the narcotic because he complained of pain. He’s lost some muscle tone. The G-tube should probably stay for at least another twenty-four hours. Neurologically I can’t find any deficits, although you’ll be better able to assess his mental status, relative to his prior condition.”
Damon flashed Doc a glance that was surprisingly amused. “Yeah. I’ll do whatever the fuck that is. Go ahead, get out of here.”
“Right. I’ll, um, head out then.”
Brian said, “Bye-bye, Doc. Come back soon. You’re a good guy. Will you be back soon?”
Doc nodded. “Sure. I’ll be back later to check on you.”
“Oh. Okay then. Good.” He was delaying, not looking at Damon after that first glance. It was easier to smile at Doc, to wave his free hand as the man turned and left, and the door shut…
“What. Did you. Do?” Damon demanded.
Brian dragged his gaze over to meet familiar, stormy gray eyes. “Hi? I don’t remember?”
Damon ran a hand over his head. His sandy-brown hair was cut shorter than Brian had ever seen it, almost buzzed. He looked older that way. “Of course you don’t. You were helping the cops and living with a cop, and you crashed and burned. So that’s enough of that experiment.”
Brian wanted to argue, but the pain behind his eyes was rising again, making it hard to think. He wasn’t going to debate the important things in his life with Damon unless he was at full strength. He said instead, “Is Nick all right?”
Damon glared at him for a long moment. “What if I said I cut his balls off for fucking with you?”
A surge of white-hot fear and anger flashed through him. He almost voiced it, but managed to hear the “what if” part and control himself. “I’d say you’re not that bad a guy. You’d never do something like that.”
“The hell I wouldn’t. I cut that guy, back when you and Lori were kids.”
“Nick’s not like him. And I’m not a kid anymore.” He sucked in a breath. It was hard trying to be Brian and Bry. He had vital things to say, but Bry’s voice was what came out. “My head hurts, Damon. Is Nick okay?”
“Well, he’s probably been fired, but I didn’t hurt him.”
“Oh.” Fired was bad. Nick loved being a cop. But it was better than castrated. He really wanted to know the story, but not till he could do something about it. “Can I have some more water?”
“Sure.” Damon passed him the cup, and he managed to lift it and suck on the straw. Damon said, “You still like Nok Nick?”
He sucked down more water and didn’t answer, because “I love him” wasn’t possible right now, and anything less felt wrong. And anyhow, Nick wasn’t Nok Nick, any more than Brian was really Bry. Except here Bry’s voice came again… “Yep. Now I wanna sleep some more.”
“Sure. Get some rest, kid. We’ll talk later.” Damon turned to the door. “I’ll get Lori to sit with you. You’re not gonna puke, right?”
“No puking,” he promised. “I’ll sleep.”
Damon nodded. “You scared the shit out of me, Bry. I’m glad you’re all right.”
When the door had closed, Brian tried to move, lifting his arms and head, moving his legs. The effort and pain told him he wouldn’t be going anywhere fast. He was floppy and weak and useless. He closed his eyes again, and took a quick look with his Finder eye. Nothing. Blackness. Pain. The headache came back hard and fast. I’m not so sure I’m all right. When Lori came in, he pretended to be asleep. He wasn’t up to talking to anyone right now.
****
Nick had realized, after two days of hovering around the house, waiting for a call, or a lead, or for Damon to come get his LoJacked dog, that he was going nuts. Like, OCD-with-walnuts-and-cherries-on-top, nuts. Checking the yard. Checking Luger. Scrolling through his Facebook, Instagram, his phone. Checking the receiver for the tracker in that collar, over and over.
Even Damon would wait for dognapping till he was out of the house. So leaving might actually make it happen. Probably. Unless Damon wanted to walk in and threaten him some more…
It would’ve been easier if Charlie had arrived on schedule. He was still coming, despite all Nick’s efforts to persuade him not to. But his flight had been canceled at the last minute, and he was waitlisted again. So between another night alone at home acting crazy, or an evening downtown like a normal guy, Nick had headed out to a bar.
It hadn’t exactly cured his jitters, though. He glanced over at the mirror, wondering if he looked as nuts as he felt, and realized he was drumming his fingers on the bar. He grabbed his beer instead, and took a long, slow pull, making it last. He might’ve been dumb enough to come here, but he wasn’t dumb enough to get really drunk.
This wasn’t a dive, but it wasn’t upscale either. A regular place for folks to hang out and drink, nothing like the gay bar he’d gone to with Brian. There were plenty of couples, along with a mix of singles. The ballgame played on the big-screen TV at one end, some kind of music concert he didn’t care enough to identify on the other one. Here, in the middle, the soundtracks mixed in a jumble of noise.
His eye was caught by a group of guys leaving the bar. Three of them were clearly together, drunk, and into the rude and obnoxious stage. The fourth was alone, trying to get to the door past their roughhousing delays. As Nick watched, one of the drunks pushed another into the single guy, who shoved the drunk the other way, with a mutter Nick couldn’t make out. But it brought a jeer from the biggest of the drunks. “Keep your fag hands off my buddy.”
In one smooth motion Nick slid his mug back on the bar, shrugged into his leather jacket, and stood. Calmly, he stalked toward the front. The drunks tossed a couple more slurred insults at the single guy, who walked past them with a curled lip and out into the night. They laughed at his back. Nick set a hand on his hip and swished the last few steps toward them. “Ooh, would you guys mind stepping out of the way? I have places to be.” He pitched his voice high and light.
Sure enough, they closed ranks instead. One said, “We’ll move when we want to.”
Nick saw a bouncer coming round the bar to spoil the fun. So he ducked past the men in a quick move, and gave the guys a smile over his shoulder. Speaking too low to be heard beyond the nearest two people, he said, “You want to follow my ass out, don’t you? Who’s the fag now?”
Fast steps took him out the door and two paces down the sidewalk before he heard the guys coming behind him. In the light of the streetlamp, he stopped and turned, allowing himself a quick glance around. There were a few people out on the street, enough that he’d have to cover his intentions. So he said, clearly, “Are you following me?” Down low, visible to the first of the three men, he encircled his forefinger with his other fist and slid it in and out. Then he raised an eyebrow.
“Hell. I’m looking at flights now.”
“What? You think I can’t make it as a civilian?”
“I didn’t say that but… tell me you don’t want me to come.”
He wanted Charlie, with an intensity that made his chest ache. “I don’t want you to come.” He hung up.
Two minutes later, the phone warbled Charlie’s ringtone again. He tapped it on. “What?”
“I can’t get anything tomorrow that’s even close to affordable, so I’m waitlisted tomorrow, and on a flight the next day. I’ll text you details.”
“I don’t need you to come.”
“Try not to get arrested or break any fingers hitting walls before I get there.” This time Charlie cut the connection.
Nick stared at the screen. The thought that Brian had no other way to reach him was the only thing that kept him from flinging it across the room. Fuck Charlie for knowing him too damned well. And fuck me, for wanting someone to lean on. He was getting soft, there was no denying it. He waited, eyes on the phone, until the text chimed with the details of Charlie’s possible flights. Then he got up and went to the kitchen, followed by the dog.
Wrote down Charlie’s info on the note pad on the fridge, just to be safe.
Let the dog out.
Went upstairs, Luger at his heels, and crawled onto Brian’s bed, while the dog curled up on the mat. Nick wrestled himself under the bedclothes still dressed, suddenly too tired and chilled to get up and undress. The phone stayed right beside the bed, near his head, in case. He checked a couple of times that the ringer was set on max volume, fit to wake the dead. Not that he’d sleep, most likely, but if Brian somehow called, he’d be sure to hear it.
Chapter 12
The next time Brian woke, he felt less fuzzy. He kept his eyes shut, remembering, and listening, and smelling things. Not a hospital. Wrong sounds and odors. Anyway, he remembered seeing Lori, and she wouldn’t be caught dead in any hospital. So somewhere private. Not at home though.
He opened his Finder eye carefully, behind the dark of his closed lids. The pain lurked, waiting to slam him, but he needed to know about Nick. He managed only a couple moments of searching, before the lance of agony made him shut down, eyes scrunched, breathing fast. No Nick! The only thing keeping him from screaming was that he hadn’t seen a trace of Lori in there either, and he’d seen that Lori was okay. No Damon trace either, and Lori had called his name like he was around and alive.
So it wasn’t that Nick was dead. Couldn’t be. It’s my Finding that’s still worn out. Something like that.
He breathed in short fast huffs through his nose. A male voice said, “Bry? Are you awake?”
“Hurts?” he whispered, because that was the truth and gave nothing away.
“Where?”
He raised a hand, surprised he could move, and gingerly touched his temple. The skin didn’t feel hot or broken on the outside, despite the searing pain inside. “Ouch. Help?”
“Okay, easy, I’m a doctor. I’m going to give you a pain injection. It might make you a bit sleepy.”
“Done sleeping.” But he desperately wanted the relief. He couldn’t think with his head throbbing like it was being smashed open. “Hurts.”
“I gave you the shot. It’ll take a minute or two.”
He focused on counting his shallow breaths, until a warm wash of something blunted the edges of the pain, and he could take a deeper sigh. “Oh. That’s good.”
“I’m glad. We’ll talk about what you need in a few minutes. Let it take full effect first.”
Brian opened his eyes. A vaguely familiar guy in a scrub top and jeans leaned over him, dark eyes fixed on his face. “Hi. Doctor?”
“Yes. You can call me Doc.”
“Okay.” He had a flash of memory— hearing Lori say that. The headache flared again, and he squeezed his eyes closed a moment, wishing he was sharper. He moved gingerly on the bed. Legs. Arms. Something tugged at his left arm, and he glanced over, spotting the IV in place. Other than the pain in his head, he actually felt better than he had waking from a Find in a long time. Not hungry, not nauseous, not even having to pee. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not. He couldn’t remember much. Who was I Finding? Did it work? Where’s Nick!
Damon had drummed safety into him, though. Waking up with a stranger around meant staying safe. Being careful.
Staying Bry?
He chewed the inside of his cheek. He’d tried so damned hard to be strong and not do Bry anymore, but if he was going to see Lori and Damon, that’s who they’d expect. His head hurt too much to make big decisions. Why not fall back on Bry for a while? It’s like being in the closet. You can always come out later, but never go back in.
So he said, “Where am I? I don’t know this place. Do I know this place?”
“I don’t think so. This is your brother Damon’s house.”
That raised more questions than it answered. “Do I know you? Are you Damon’s too?”
And wow, that was an interesting bright flush under the deep brown of the doctor’s skin. “No. I’m just a friend.”
Brian had a moment’s impulse to push, to ask, in Bry’s innocent tones, if that meant boyfriend. But Damon might own a man in a lot of ways, and blackmail was the most likely and sex the least. It wasn’t fair to be mean about it. “Where’s Nick?” It couldn’t hurt to ask.
“I don’t know any Nick.”
“He’s a cop and he’s short, well, shorter’n me, and he’s pretty. He fights good too. I live with him. And my dog. Where’s Luger? Can I have my dog?”
Doc huffed a breath. “I’m just here to take care of you. Damon will have to answer any questions.”
“Oh. Okay. You took care of me good. I don’t even have to pee. That’s really weird, you know? Mostly, I have to pee real bad when I wake up.” He reached down under the sheets with his free hand, trying to figure out what he was connected up to.
Doc grabbed his wrist. “Don’t mess with that. There are tubes and so on. Now that you’re awake, we’ll start getting you unhooked.”
“Good. I don’t like hooked.” His head still hurt, but the pain was becoming distant, the lovely meds forming a puffy wall between him and the headache. He tried to prop himself up on one elbow, but the doc’s hand on his shoulder kept him flat on the bed. “Where’s Lori? Where’s Damon? Where’s Nick? Will they be here soon? Real soon? Super soon?”
“I don’t know.” Doc’s voice was definitely less professionally smooth now. “You should relax and sleep some more.”
“I slept too much. I lost Nick. Where’s Nick?” He tried to look around, but his neck was stiff too, and he winced. “Ow, ow, ow.”
“Hold still!” Doc coughed, and deepened his tone. He seemed awfully young for a doctor, but if he said he was, then Brian wasn’t going to argue. He’d never even graduated high school, so what did he know?
“I want to see things.”
“Later. I’m going to examine you right now. I’m going to ask some questions about how you feel.”
“Will you answer questions too?”
“If I can. Will you lie still?”
“Maybe?” He gave Bry’s slow, wide smile, even though it pulled at the tender tightness of his face. “If I can.”
Doc actually chuckled. “All right. I’m going to start with some touching and tapping. Then a light in your eyes. If anything hurts tell me.”
Brian lay still through a pretty familiar round of “Does this make your toes curl?” and “Can you feel this?” The penlight did hurt his eyes, and he squinted and whined about it. Falling back into Bry was almost like taking a drug. Just letting go, no filters, no adulting, no effort. Later, he’d hate some of what he said, but right now it was easy-peasy.
When Doc moved the covers to check his legs and feet, Brian saw some unfamiliar plumbing. “Hey. I have a tube on me. And a tube in me! Gross!” What the heck? A tube actually poked right in through the skin of his belly. “Get it off me!”
“Hush. That’s to give you food. It’ll come out as soon as you’re eating all right.” Doc grabbed his flailing hand, even though Brian had enough sense not to mess with something poking into his skin.
“You stuck a tube in me!”
“They did it at the hospital. Keep calm.”
“What hospital? There is no hospital.” I was in a hospital? Where? When? Nick!
“Before you came here. Don’t worry. You’re fine. I can take it out.” Doc patted his arm. “You’re doing great. I’m very happy with how good you look and sound, after that long sleep.”
Long coma? He couldn’t believe they’d put in a feeding tube. “How long?”
“You’ve slept for seven days.”
“Wow!” He pressed his lips together to stop and wait and think. Seven days. He’d never pushed himself to the edge like that before. It bothered him to the point of panic to realize he couldn’t remember his last Find. What did I do? Where was Nick? Where is Nick! And if that blank, threadless darkness in my head is permanent… He hummed a little tune, and tapped in time with fingers that felt clumsy and tired. Not thinking about that. Not thinking. Not yet. Nope, nope.
Doc said, “We’ll take it slowly. It’s hard on your body to sleep that long. We’ll let you wake up slow.”
“I want Damon!” He needed answers, but he couldn’t trust this stranger.
“I called him when you started coming around. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” The doctor went across the room and came back with a cup with a straw in it. He raised the head of the bed, which went up like a hospital bed, with a power button. Brian squinted at the railing as his shoulders were raised. It is a hospital bed. Where are we? The doctor held the cup near his face and directed the straw to his lips. “Take a small swallow. Just one.”
The water running over his tongue brought home how foul his mouth tasted. He made an exaggerated face. “Tastes icky.”
“Try another one. Carefully.”
He sucked a small mouthful, then a bigger one. When Doc pulled the straw away, he licked his dry lips and said, “Water is good.”
“Your throat feels okay? Any upset tummy?”
No sensation of nausea at all. He pressed his mouth shut tight. He had an odd double vision, like part of him was Bry lying here in this bed, being checked by the nice young doctor. And part of him was Brian, hovering above somewhere, watching. “No. I like it. More?”
“We’ll wait a couple of minutes to be sure. Than you can have another sip.”
“Meany.” But he didn’t have the usual desperate thirst either. Probably because he had an IV in his arm. “Do you live here too? Where is here? Is this Minnesota?”
“I think I’ll let Damon answer your questions.”
“But Damon’s not here and you are here. Don’t you even know what state this is?”
Doc frowned, but said grudgingly, “It’s Florida. And Damon will be here soon, I’m sure.”
Florida? Brian kept the panic from showing on his face. “I’ve never been in Florida. Are there alligators? Is there an ocean?”
“Yeah. I guess.” Doc straightened and set the cup on the little table, glancing at the door.
Brian said quickly, to stop him leaving, “My tummy is good. Can I have more water? Please?”
“Oh. Yes.” Clearly Doc was more comfortable with patient care, so Brian asked for water, then complained of an itch in his feet, then pretended he was going to pull on his stomach tube. He kept Doc busy. Then the door opened and Damon walked in.
He looked the same, but maybe sharper. Like the edges of Damon had been polished and made more dangerous. Doc looked at him with relief, but also something that might be caution. “He’s awake.”
“I see that.”
“Medically, his recovery is amazing, although I’m still dripping the narcotic because he complained of pain. He’s lost some muscle tone. The G-tube should probably stay for at least another twenty-four hours. Neurologically I can’t find any deficits, although you’ll be better able to assess his mental status, relative to his prior condition.”
Damon flashed Doc a glance that was surprisingly amused. “Yeah. I’ll do whatever the fuck that is. Go ahead, get out of here.”
“Right. I’ll, um, head out then.”
Brian said, “Bye-bye, Doc. Come back soon. You’re a good guy. Will you be back soon?”
Doc nodded. “Sure. I’ll be back later to check on you.”
“Oh. Okay then. Good.” He was delaying, not looking at Damon after that first glance. It was easier to smile at Doc, to wave his free hand as the man turned and left, and the door shut…
“What. Did you. Do?” Damon demanded.
Brian dragged his gaze over to meet familiar, stormy gray eyes. “Hi? I don’t remember?”
Damon ran a hand over his head. His sandy-brown hair was cut shorter than Brian had ever seen it, almost buzzed. He looked older that way. “Of course you don’t. You were helping the cops and living with a cop, and you crashed and burned. So that’s enough of that experiment.”
Brian wanted to argue, but the pain behind his eyes was rising again, making it hard to think. He wasn’t going to debate the important things in his life with Damon unless he was at full strength. He said instead, “Is Nick all right?”
Damon glared at him for a long moment. “What if I said I cut his balls off for fucking with you?”
A surge of white-hot fear and anger flashed through him. He almost voiced it, but managed to hear the “what if” part and control himself. “I’d say you’re not that bad a guy. You’d never do something like that.”
“The hell I wouldn’t. I cut that guy, back when you and Lori were kids.”
“Nick’s not like him. And I’m not a kid anymore.” He sucked in a breath. It was hard trying to be Brian and Bry. He had vital things to say, but Bry’s voice was what came out. “My head hurts, Damon. Is Nick okay?”
“Well, he’s probably been fired, but I didn’t hurt him.”
“Oh.” Fired was bad. Nick loved being a cop. But it was better than castrated. He really wanted to know the story, but not till he could do something about it. “Can I have some more water?”
“Sure.” Damon passed him the cup, and he managed to lift it and suck on the straw. Damon said, “You still like Nok Nick?”
He sucked down more water and didn’t answer, because “I love him” wasn’t possible right now, and anything less felt wrong. And anyhow, Nick wasn’t Nok Nick, any more than Brian was really Bry. Except here Bry’s voice came again… “Yep. Now I wanna sleep some more.”
“Sure. Get some rest, kid. We’ll talk later.” Damon turned to the door. “I’ll get Lori to sit with you. You’re not gonna puke, right?”
“No puking,” he promised. “I’ll sleep.”
Damon nodded. “You scared the shit out of me, Bry. I’m glad you’re all right.”
When the door had closed, Brian tried to move, lifting his arms and head, moving his legs. The effort and pain told him he wouldn’t be going anywhere fast. He was floppy and weak and useless. He closed his eyes again, and took a quick look with his Finder eye. Nothing. Blackness. Pain. The headache came back hard and fast. I’m not so sure I’m all right. When Lori came in, he pretended to be asleep. He wasn’t up to talking to anyone right now.
****
Nick had realized, after two days of hovering around the house, waiting for a call, or a lead, or for Damon to come get his LoJacked dog, that he was going nuts. Like, OCD-with-walnuts-and-cherries-on-top, nuts. Checking the yard. Checking Luger. Scrolling through his Facebook, Instagram, his phone. Checking the receiver for the tracker in that collar, over and over.
Even Damon would wait for dognapping till he was out of the house. So leaving might actually make it happen. Probably. Unless Damon wanted to walk in and threaten him some more…
It would’ve been easier if Charlie had arrived on schedule. He was still coming, despite all Nick’s efforts to persuade him not to. But his flight had been canceled at the last minute, and he was waitlisted again. So between another night alone at home acting crazy, or an evening downtown like a normal guy, Nick had headed out to a bar.
It hadn’t exactly cured his jitters, though. He glanced over at the mirror, wondering if he looked as nuts as he felt, and realized he was drumming his fingers on the bar. He grabbed his beer instead, and took a long, slow pull, making it last. He might’ve been dumb enough to come here, but he wasn’t dumb enough to get really drunk.
This wasn’t a dive, but it wasn’t upscale either. A regular place for folks to hang out and drink, nothing like the gay bar he’d gone to with Brian. There were plenty of couples, along with a mix of singles. The ballgame played on the big-screen TV at one end, some kind of music concert he didn’t care enough to identify on the other one. Here, in the middle, the soundtracks mixed in a jumble of noise.
His eye was caught by a group of guys leaving the bar. Three of them were clearly together, drunk, and into the rude and obnoxious stage. The fourth was alone, trying to get to the door past their roughhousing delays. As Nick watched, one of the drunks pushed another into the single guy, who shoved the drunk the other way, with a mutter Nick couldn’t make out. But it brought a jeer from the biggest of the drunks. “Keep your fag hands off my buddy.”
In one smooth motion Nick slid his mug back on the bar, shrugged into his leather jacket, and stood. Calmly, he stalked toward the front. The drunks tossed a couple more slurred insults at the single guy, who walked past them with a curled lip and out into the night. They laughed at his back. Nick set a hand on his hip and swished the last few steps toward them. “Ooh, would you guys mind stepping out of the way? I have places to be.” He pitched his voice high and light.
Sure enough, they closed ranks instead. One said, “We’ll move when we want to.”
Nick saw a bouncer coming round the bar to spoil the fun. So he ducked past the men in a quick move, and gave the guys a smile over his shoulder. Speaking too low to be heard beyond the nearest two people, he said, “You want to follow my ass out, don’t you? Who’s the fag now?”
Fast steps took him out the door and two paces down the sidewalk before he heard the guys coming behind him. In the light of the streetlamp, he stopped and turned, allowing himself a quick glance around. There were a few people out on the street, enough that he’d have to cover his intentions. So he said, clearly, “Are you following me?” Down low, visible to the first of the three men, he encircled his forefinger with his other fist and slid it in and out. Then he raised an eyebrow.
