by Kelly Fox
Covert
A Wrecked Novella
Kelly Fox
Contents
Note to Readers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Kelly Fox
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Copyright @ 2020 Kelly Fox
Cover Design: Canva.com
Editing and Proofing: Abigail Brown
Formatting (Vellum): lescourtauthorservices.com
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
The Licensed Art material is being used for illustrative purposes only.
Note to Readers
1. Chronologically, this book takes place between Book 2 and Book 3 of the Wrecked series, but is mostly written as a flashback to the early 90’s. I’ve attempted to write this as a fun intro to the series via one of the many colorful side characters, a story that can be read at any point in the series, including beforehand. Either way, it’s meant to be a cool bit of insider information that isn’t discussed overtly (so far) in the series, so please don’t spoil it for others!
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2. Morris will never die.
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3. I took serious liberties with the Texas congressional system, the UT employment system, and with Governor (then State Treasurer) and High Priestess of Cool, Ann Richards (may she rest in peace). If you’re looking for historical accuracy, keep scrolling.
Chapter One
Christopher
I blink and blue sky fills my vision. I appear to be lying on the ground, and…I’m not exactly sure why.
“Oh, thank God. Morris? Morris? Can you hear me?”
It’s Elijah, the little cutie that just started at the gym a few months ago.
“I fell on my ass, kid. I didn’t lose my hearing. I’m fine. I just need to get home.”
“Morris, you’ve been unconscious for the last five minutes. You’re not going home.”
I hear sirens in the not-distant-enough and growl to myself. Every time I have another one of these little incidents people freak out, order an ambulance, and have me sent to the hospital. It’s ridiculous, honestly. I don’t like explaining my health history to people, but it’s a fairly benign condition and I don’t need everyone knowing my business.
The only reason I’m considering letting them take me this time is that I’m typically out for a few seconds; five minutes is a whole ‘nother thing. I’d better make sure it isn’t a complication.
I give Elijah my phone and ask him to text Maggie for me.
Magnus
Dinner’s been ready for 20 minutes and Christopher is late, again.
That man.
I don’t want to begrudge him his time at Wrecked, the gym for veterans that he goes to every day, but sometimes he can’t help himself. He’ll get into a conversation or an argument, or some horrifying combination of both, and every once in a while they ban him. Then, I’m left to deal with him for a week or two until they relent and let him back in the building again.
I tell him again and again that he is in a safe place there and he doesn’t have to change my pronouns every time he talks about me. But I think that Wrecked means more than the people there could ever imagine, and he’s cautious about the things that are important to him.
Anyway, dinner is going to be cold again, and I’ve got my manuscript to get back to. I wish he’d stop riling people up and just be home on time for once.
The small circle of friends and family who know about our relationship will occasionally wonder aloud about our age difference, but really…I’m the one who has a hard time keeping up with him.
He’s thirty years older than me, and we’ve been together thirty years, which means I’m the same age he was when we fell in love. When I see twenty-two-year-old men, I wonder what he saw in me. Sure, young guys are pretty to look at, but I don’t have enough in common with them to understand the draw.
Then again, I was always a bit of an odd ball. My parents are Danish and I inherited the build, pale-ass skin, light hair, and blue eyes from them, so people mistake me for an athlete. Really, I’m an introverted book worm who loves the old jazz standards and has never been on social media a day in my life. Hiking keeps me in decent shape, but my happy place is curled up in our library with my laptop and a story running through my head.
Funny enough, between the two of us, it’s the short, old guy who’s the gym rat.
Sometimes I worry about losing him, but we both decided that ruining the time we have together now by worrying about the future is no way to go about it. Even though we’re not particularly romantic, we have spent thirty years learning and loving each other and we’ll continue until one of us gives up our mortal coil. Given the fact that his mother is still alive and kicking at one hundred one years old, my money is on the old coot.
Just as I get lost in my thoughts, pretty typical for a writer, a text comes in from my beloved. It’s weird because he usually texts in single word grunts or very short sentences. This is practically a paragraph.
Christopher: Hi, this is Elijah from Wrecked. Morris fell and lost consciousness for approximately five minutes, but has regained consciousness and seems clearheaded. We’ve called an ambulance and he’s being taken to the hospital, but he is fine. He asked us to text you to let you know.
Oh dear god, he’s going to be livid. He hates it when he passes out around people who don’t know about his vagus nerve issue. It’s mostly harmless, but it is scary looking, and he’s had to refuse an ambulance more times than either of us care to think about.
Though…if he really was out for five minutes, and he’s allowed them to put him in an ambulance, he might be a little worried. Which makes me a little worried.
Magnus: Elijah, thank you for letting me know. Do you know which hospital they took him to?
Christopher: They took him to the Heart Hospital off of 38th.
Magnus: Thank you. I’m on my way.
For a few heart-stopping moments, I worry about not being let in to see him. Then I remember on a laugh that Christopher and I got married when it became legal in the US. I smile, remembering the first thing I said after we said I do.
“Oooh, now I can legally have you removed from life-support. Best be nice to me, old man.”
He growled his typical Christopher growl then leaned up to kiss me, making my chest flutter with anticipation the same as it has for the last three decades.
I try not to over-catastrophize while I make my way to the hospital, but once I get there, I’m not able to see him right away because they’re working on him.
Which sounds…serious.
Oh God, Christopher. Please don’t leave me now. There’s so much more I want to do with you.
I drop into a chair, next to a woman with purple hair, and wait for them to tell me something about my husband.
Chapter Two
Magnus
“Magnus Larsen?” A nurse in pink scrubs, who looks a little too perky, calls out my name. “Magnus Larsen?”
I hold up my hand. “I’m Magnus.”
“There you are, let’s talk about
Mr. Morris.”
The woman with the purple hair turns to me, curious. “You’re here for Christopher Morris?”
I hesitate, an instinct as familiar as breathing, then remember him talking about a woman with purple hair who makes the world’s best pizza. I think her name is Evie. She’s related somehow to the folks at Wrecked.
“Yes, I am. Are you a friend of Elijah’s?”
She nods. “Elijah came in with Morris but couldn’t stay, so he asked me to hang out here for a while.”
“You’ve been so kind to wait. I’m glad that he wasn’t alone, and I’ll make sure he knows that you were here for him, but I’ve got it from here.”
She chews on her thumbnail for a moment, then asks, “If it’s all the same to you, would you mind if I hung around for an update? The Martinez family is very worried and my brother Jake is beside himself.”
Her luminous, honey-colored eyes tug at my heart strings. This is definitely Evie. Christopher likes her almost as much as he likes that kid Elijah. For the last several months I’ve ribbed him about how cute Elijah is, because Elijah is about the age I was when we met. He lets me dig at him for a few minutes, then loses his temper, smacks my arm, and says something along the lines of, “Maggie, baby, you know you’re it for me.”
Shaking myself, I refocus on the woman with the purple hair. “That’s very kind of you, and of course, you’re welcome to stay. I’m Magnus.” I say, extending my hand.
“I’m Evie. Nice to meet you Magnus.”
We shake hands and I turn to the nurse, who’s been waiting for me to get myself together. “Thank you for your patience.”
“Oh, no problem sir. We live to serve.”
The snark in her voice is unmistakable, but her tone is light, and the smirk is kind. She takes me back to the ICU and walks me over to a wall that is a series of curtained-off spaces. We find Christopher's space and she lets me stand beside him and hold his hand. He looks aggravated, which I take as a good sign.
“When are you letting me out of here?” He barks, annoyed.
“Sir, there’s just a few more tests that we need to run on you. Losing consciousness for that long is not good and we want to make sure that we’ve got all of our ducks in a row with you.”
Again, she’s a little more cheerful then she has to be and I appreciate it. I love Christopher with all of my heart, but he can be a real son of a bitch sometimes and I appreciate the people who can see under that to the fears he carries with him.
Turning to me, the nurse says, “I brought you back here because he would not let us proceed without seeing you first.”
“What procedures does he need?” I ask, giving him the eye. He shrugs and reaches for my hand.
“Actually, it’s just an MRI and a couple of other scans and shouldn’t take too long. You can give us your phone number and we can call you when he’s ready, or you can stay out in the waiting room.”
“Can’t Maggie come with me?”
I can tell that he’s gotten on this woman’s nerves, but she shows patience and kindness.
“No sir. He can’t be in the magnet room with you and there’s no place for him to sit, save for the waiting room.”
Christopher looks over at me, and I see a hint of fear in his face. He’s a retired US Marine, which gave him a spine of steel, but even Marines get nervous from time to time. I lay my hand on his arm and kiss his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Christopher. I’ll be out in the waiting room. And I’ll be in good company.”
His eyebrows, which he’s let grow unruly again, stitch together. “What do you mean, good company? Please tell me that Elijah went home. I think they’ve got a lot going on.”
“He left to take care of some business, but not before he had Evie relieve him of his waiting room duties.”
Christopher looks discomfited and yanks on the scratchy hospital gown. “They’ve got Evie out there? Go tell her to go home and get some rest. She doesn’t need to be here.”
“Does that mean I can go home and get some rest too?” I ask, a smirk on my face. “Maybe I’ll just go out to Fredericksburg for a few days…”
He smacks my arm, with no heat at all. “I think you know how I feel about that.”
“You couldn’t keep me from this place if you tried,” I say, dipping down to kiss his forehead again.
He grumpily pulls me down for a real kiss, giving our nurse a show, and I let him because he’s a good kisser. The nurse clears her throat after a few minutes. I stand back, a little flushed, and Christopher, as usual, looks pleased with himself.
“Okay, I’m gonna leave you to it. I’ll be right here in the waiting room and they’ll come grab me if you need anything.”
Turning to the nurse, I give her my phone number and let her know she doesn’t have to come all the way back out to the waiting room, that I’d be happy to get a text.
“I’d still have to come get you, hon. But thanks for the consideration. It’s appreciated.” She says with a smile on her face and a bit of twinkle in her eye.
I give Christopher one more kiss, just for good measure, then follow the nurse back out to the waiting room.
Evie has not only saved my seat, she’s somehow managed to bring in enough pizza for everyone in the waiting room. Surreally, Scout Martinez, WNBA legend and very cool-looking human, is sitting cross-legged with a bunch of children talking to them about basketball. I vaguely remember that she got married and note the matching rings on her and Evie’s fingers.
I remember, belatedly, that Scout’s brother owns Wrecked and everything falls into place. The pizza is from Scout’s shop, which Evie now runs.
I catch Evie’s eye and we smile at one another as she motions to the pizza. It’s a pretty spectacular variety, clearly gourmet, and smells delicious.
Honestly, I’m starving since I ate nothing of the cold dinner back at home. I grab the pizza with fig jam, goat cheese, and crispy, cubed up bacon pieces and take a bite of the hot, cheesy goodness.
Well, damn. That’s the best pizza I’ve ever had.
That’s going in a book, I think to myself.
“I take it you like it?” Evie asks, smiling.
“If I weren’t already married to Christopher, I’d marry this pizza.” I say on a laugh.
Evie’s eyes get so round that I feel like they’re about to pop out of her head.
Shit.
Shit.
In the thirty years I’ve been with Christopher, I’ve never fucked up. Not once. I’m a writer, and save for our circle of friends, I’m a bit of a recluse. It’s been years since I’ve actively had to hide my relationship with him.
Dammit. I must be very worried about him to let that slip.
I hold up my hands and shake my head. “I didn’t say that.”
She blinks her eyes back to their normal size and shakes herself, resetting her reality. “And I didn’t hear it.”
Though…saying it felt better than I thought it would, and her face is so warm and caring. It’s nice, right in the middle of all of this, to simply trust someone.
I go sit in the corner, enjoying the delicious pizza, a bit numb to what I’ve just done. Christopher and I have had this conversation many times, but I believe that he is too old and too set in his ways to make the change now. I know that what he grew up with was awful, and he spent most of his life feeling wrong or less than, so I hate to have to explain to him that I messed up and told somebody outside of our circle about our marriage.
I startle when Evie materializes next to me. “You don’t have to look so terrified. I’m not gonna tell anyone. I won’t even tell Scout.”
She thrusts another slice of pizza into my hands. “Here, try this.”
It has roasted peaches on it, and I hesitate. Her eyes sparkle as she nods encouragingly. I take a bite, if only because she has my entire life in her hands.
Holy hell.
I was wrong before. This is the best pizza I’ve ever had in my life.
“What is that
herby flavor with the peaches?” I ask, my mouth full.
“Bit of rosemary oil plus a few secret ingredients of my own.” She says, her eyes lighting up.
“You are a miracle worker.” Pretty sure I was still shoving the pizza in my face as I said that.
“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” She says, her smile an absolute delight.
Silently, she sits down next to me and lets me finish my dinner. Though she’s not pressuring me for an answer, there are definitely questions in her eyes.
I’ve kept our secret for a very long time, but Evie’s eyes capture me with their warm spirit, and I sense that she would know the truth of it even if I hadn’t spilled my guts.
“If you need an ear, I’m not going anywhere,” she says resolutely.
A few moments later Scout approaches, shakes my hand, and lets Evie know that she’s going to close the shop.
The waiting room has thinned out a bit, so I turn to Evie, encouraged by her kind expression. “I would love to tell somebody about the Christopher Morris that I know.”
She angles toward me, our knees touching, and her beautifully appointed lips tilt up into a smile. “And I would love to know that Christopher Morris. Please, tell me.”
Chapter Three
Christopher - 1990
“There’s a new HIV infection every single minute. There’s a new AIDS death every half hour.”
The news is playing in the background, and that big-mouthed gay is giving out another interview. I’ll never understand how I got saddled with this particular proclivity, but I am stronger than it. These guys they’re interviewing, with their little gay voices? What a fucking joke.
