Patient Privilege

by Allison Cassatta

  When he closed his eyes, Erik pictured Angel breaking down in the hotel room. He'd been in his shoes before and felt really bad for Angel, for everything he'd been through and had yet to go through. Erik understood. He'd destroyed his life and his love all for a drug. Yes, he was a coward too, but the booze numbed something broken inside of him. The pain of losing Marshall had overshadowed everything else and made fixing himself almost impossible. He might never know what had broken, but he damn sure wouldn't soak it in booze. Never again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Angel's stare followed Dr Daniels as he left the room. He kept his focus on the man until he disappeared behind the door and it closed. His head lowered as Jon hugged him again. A lump wound its way up his throat. He didn't know how in the hell he would survive the next ninety days, but by God, he could try.

  "You can do this," Jon whispered as he rubbed his hands up and down Angel's spine.

  Could he? Could Angel make it through ninety days of detox and rehabilitation and facing the shit that made him want the drugs in the first damn place? His jaw flexed, making the skin ripple against the bone. Jon pressed his lips to Angel's cheek and the gentle kiss made Angel close his eyes and take a deep breath. He only smelled the scent of the man who'd held him during his bad episodes, who'd been there every time he needed someone, who'd selflessly sacrificed his own happiness to put up with Angel's shit.

  And that's when Angel started feeling the incredible weight of guilt, more than a few years' worth, actually.

  Hands gripped Angel's cheeks as Jon lifted his face. "I'm not going to abandon you here, okay? I mean, I'll come visit every time I can. I swear I will," Jon said in a serious tone.

  "I believe you," Angel responded. He took one last deep breath so he'd never forget the way Jon smelled, never forget the memories they'd made together, then pulled away from the warm embrace of Jon's arms. He sank down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wrap his head around the idea of being trapped inside those four walls.

  "Jon," he said. "I don't want you to worry about me." Jon started to speak and Angel held up a hand to shush him. "I know how you are. I know you'll worry. Just… don't let my bullshit interrupt your life, okay? You want me to get better. I want you happy."

  Jon knelt down in front of him, squeezed himself between Angel's legs. "You're getting help. That makes me happy," he said as he cradled Angel's face between his palms. "You're going to get out of here, and everything is going to be okay, all right?"

  Angel nodded, shifting his eyes away.

  "Hey," Jon said, "Look at me." Angel let out an aggravated sigh as he looked back at Jon's loving face. "I'm going to be here waiting for you to get out of this place. It's only three months, Angel, and think about how much better off you'll be. Maybe you can even go to school and get your life back on track."

  Jon eased up onto his knees and pressed his mouth to Angel's. He slipped his tongue through Angel's slightly parted lips, turning the kiss into something deeper, more passionate than the situation called for, but that's how Jon worked. When it came to their romance—or lack thereof—Jon always pushed a little too hard. Sure, Jon probably thought he was doing Angel a favor, letting him know just how much Jon loved and cared for him, but that kiss felt like nothing more than a sad goodbye.

  Welcome to hell, Angel. Your life is fucked for the next ninety days.

  He pulled away from the kiss and looked away again. All this crap had him on the verge of tears. He hated tears.

  Angel resolved himself to doing one of the hardest things he would ever have to do—he had to push Jon away. For the sake of Jon's life and happiness, Angel had to push him far away from the hell he called life.

  "Angel, what's wrong?" Jon asked.

  "You have to go, Jon. You have to go and be happy for both of us."

  "Well, I can't stay here, of course, but I—"

  "No. You don't get it. You have to go. Don't look back and don't come back." Angel swallowed hard and lowered his head. "Jon, I don't love you the way you love me. I don't think I am capable of loving like that, okay? So just, go… find someone to love you for you. Find someone who will take care of you, because God knows, you're a wreck when you're alone."

  "What are you saying, Angel? You don't want to see me ever again?"

  "I don't know. I do, but… I'm not in love with you, Jon. I love you, but it's not like that."

  Jon scooted from between Angel's thighs and sat back on the floor. He hugged his legs against his body, resting his chin on his knees. Angel's heart sank. Everything they had together, everything they were to each other, he knew Jon treasured every fucked-up, beautiful, funny, sad, intense moment of it. God help him, he felt like an ass, but this would be better for Jon. Everything would be better for Jon if the kid just moved the hell on.

  "What are you saying?" Jon mumbled against his knees.

  "That I think it would be best if you found someone who loves you."

  "I don't want someone else." He raised his head and met Angel's dark brown gaze. "I want you."

  "Well, I'm not available, and I don't want you seeing me like this." Angel stood and started to pace the small confines of his ten-by-ten prison. "I don't want you."

  Jon gasped, clenching his eyes and his jaw. "That's the drugs talking."

  "No! No, the fuck it isn't. Get out, Jon! Go home!"

  It took a minute before Jon opened his eyes. "Fine," he bit out as he hefted himself from the floor. Angel started to reach out to him, to apologize and take back all the shit he'd just said. The words had been spoken in fear and shame, not from the heart. He didn't mean any of it and wanted so badly to take it back, but he stopped himself. He stood still as a statue and watched as his only friend in the entire world stormed out of the room.

  * * * *

  A door slammed so hard the entire wall shook and the sound echoed down the hall. The thunderous boom and the sound of feet pounding down the hall ripped Erik away from the sleep he couldn't seem to find. He stood from the couch and walked out into the hall.

  Jon raced right past Erik, face red, cheeks glistening, and charged for the exit. Erik pounded down the hall after him, and just before Jon shoved through the door, Erik reached out and grabbed his arm. The sudden force of it wrenched Jon back.

  "You okay?" Erik asked, his mouth curling into a frown.

  Jon shook his head. "I want to go home now." And that's when the tears really started falling. They fell hard and fast, clinging to his rosy cheeks as they wound down to his lips and dripped off his chin. Erik had to fight like hell to resist the urge to hug the kid. It just wouldn't look good, especially not at the clinic, not after Dr Mathers had presumed the boys were personal to Erik.

  "What happened?" Erik asked, voice soft and full of concern

  "I just want to go home," Jon sobbed.

  "Okay. All right, I'll take you now."

  "Thank you."

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Do you want to talk about that?" Erik asked, thumbing over his shoulder in the direction of the clinic as he and Jon walked back to his car.

  "Not really," Jon said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

  They both climbed into Erik's car. Erik sat there for a moment, staring out over the front lawn of West Clinic. Dew covered the grass. The sun hadn't started to rise yet. With his thumb and forefinger, he pushed up his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. "I need to know what's going on with him if I'm going to help him."

  Jon crossed his arms over his chest. He kept staring forward, but didn't say a word.

  Erik sighed as he cranked the car and pulled out onto the street. Silence. The air around them became so thick with tension it could almost be cut with a knife. One hand gripped the wheel. He propped his other arm up on the door so he could hold up his heavy head. He hadn't been this exhausted in a long time. His nerves were frazzled, and his patient had apparently just showed his ass.

  "He doesn't want to see me," Jon finally said. "He's not in l
ove with me and he doesn't want me in his life."

  Erik's eyes widened and he turned his head to look at Jon, noticing fresh tears on his cheeks. They glistened in the green and red dash lights of Erik's piece-of-shit car. He reached over and took Jon's hand. Nothing he could say would ease Jon's pain, so he didn't say anything. He felt Jon's fingers tighten around his, felt the shaking and knew Jon had started sobbing harder. "Look, don't give up. Maybe that's what he needs right now. Maybe he doesn't want you to see him like this. It's a pride thing."

  "That's what he said, that he didn't want me to see him like this." Jon turned in the seat but never let go of Erik's hand. "Dr Daniels, I don't care how he is or how he looks. I need to be there for him. I need him to know I am the one who loves him and wants to take care of him."

  "I know, Jon, but his needs are more important right now. I know that sounds harsh, but that's the way it is. He's about to go through the most difficult time of his life. He has to be handled with care or he'll be right back out on the streets, selling his body and shooting up heroin. Just give him time, okay?"

  Jon leaned back against the seat, untwisted his hand from Erik's and hugged himself.

  As Erik's beater made its way into the less glamorous side of Hollywood, the sky above started to lighten. The Palomar Hotel was less than fifteen miles from Jon's apartment. It would probably take close to an hour to get to Erik's home. If he wanted to get any sleep before he had to go back to work, he would have to stay with Marshall. The idea excited and terrified him. Erik knew too much time with Marshall would rekindle a flame that had been almost extinguished and needed to stay that way, but he honestly didn't know if he could keep his eyes open long enough to make the drive back to his place.

  "Right here," Jon said. His voice snapped Erik out of his internal ramblings. Jon pointed a finger toward an old, rather worn building. "I live right there."

  Erik pulled into the parking lot.

  Jon looked over at him and frowned. "You okay to drive? I mean, I have a couch if you want to crash."

  "No, I'm fine. I've already bent the rules too much tonight." Erik half-smiled. "I have a friend staying at the Palomar. I'll sleep there for a few hours."

  "Okay," Jon said. "Hey, thanks for everything you've done for Angel. It means a lot."

  "I know what he's going through and I hate to see anyone suffer like that alone. He'll be okay. We'll get him on the right track."

  Jon smiled. "You're a good man, Dr Daniels."

  "Thanks."

  Jon got out of the car and Erik kept an eye on him until he disappeared behind his apartment door. In the short time he'd known Jon and Angel, he had become so protective of them both, and in a way, that kind of scared him. If Erik didn't take a step back now, this could become a problem. He was quickly becoming too personally invested in those two, tip-toeing on that gray line of ethics he'd been warned about as he'd sought out his higher education.

  Shaking it off, he turned his beater around and headed straight to the Palomar, straight to Marshall. He didn't remember the drive, didn't remember any particular thought, and if that wasn't a testament to how exhausted he was, he didn't know what would be.

  He hauled his body into the hotel, to the elevator and up to the third floor. "Shit!" He'd forgotten to call Marshall. Hopefully his ex would hear him knocking. Marshall always heard him banging on the door when he'd hauled himself home at three in the morning, too drunk to figure out which key unlocked the door. But back in those days, Marshall waited up, worrying about him until he saw Erik's face again.

  With a sigh, he raised his fist and knocked on the door. His forehead pressed against the wood as he let out a hard yawn. He heard shuffling inside the room and silently thanked God for keeping Marshall awake.

  The door sprung open and Erik nearly fell on his face, but Marshall's arms caught him. It shouldn't have been an awkward moment, even with Marshall standing there in all his male glory, in nothing but his boxer briefs, but it was—or at least it felt awkward. Maybe because his clumsiness in front of such a beautiful man was an absolute embarrassment. And for a moment, Erik lost himself to the feel of his palms against that incredible chest.

  Heat rushed his face and he suddenly felt compelled to pull away. "Sorry. I'm so tired."

  "I know." Marshall touched his cheek, brushing his thumb over Erik's skin. "It shows." He moved from the door and swept his arm in toward the room. "Come in. Relax. Rest."

  "Thanks," Erik said as he squeezed by his ex-partner. He immediately peeled off his jacket and shirt and laid them across a chair before kicking off his shoes. With all the weight of two beautiful, but damaged boys on his shoulders and enough exhaustion to drop an elephant, he sank down onto the edge of Marshall's bed.

  Marshall sat down beside Erik, rubbed a circle at the small of his back and kissed Erik's bare shoulder.

  "They're really troubling you, huh?"

  "Yeah, they are. The one who entered the program told the other one he didn't want to see him anymore. And to top it off, I think I am getting too emotionally involved with these boys now."

  "Get some sleep, Erik. Everything will be clearer once you've rested."

  "You know, my body is tired, but I don't think I could sleep right now."

  "Like I said, relax." Marshall slid back on the bed, climbed under the covers. He patted the empty spot beside him and smiled. "You can cuddle with me. You always were the best cuddler."

  Erik laughed as he slid back to join him. Setting his glasses on the nightstand, he curled around his lover, laying his head on Marshall's chest. He wrapped his arms around Marshall's waist and Marshall pulled the covers over their bodies as Erik pressed soft kisses to his pecs.

  "I miss this," Erik whispered.

  "Me too," Marshall said. He laid his head back against the pillow and brushed his fingers through Erik's hair. "I want to have this again, Erik."

  Chapter Twenty

  Those words stopped Erik's heart. They took his breath away and warmed him from the inside out. Was Marshall really serious about wanting to be with him again? Or did he just say that because he wanted to have that closeness with someone—anyone—again?

  Erik suddenly remembered his ex asking him to move back to San Francisco. He hadn't had a chance to say "Yes" or "No" because of the phone call from his beautiful, tragic new friends. Could he honestly consider abandoning them, not to mention Chris, his thirteen-year-old meth addict? He closed his eyes as he tried to process everything. He tried to be the calm, cool, level-headed doctor.

  "I want to have this again too, Marshall," he said against the muscled waves of his ex-partner's chest. The unspoken "but" lingered in the air. He felt Marshall's fingers rake through his hair and he had to fight the urge to look up at him. If he looked into Marshall's sparkling green eyes, he would melt and, most likely, give in to his every whim and desire.

  "But… something is stopping you."

  Erik let out a hard sigh. He still couldn't bring himself to look up. It just felt better that he didn't.

  "I've always wanted the best for you, you know?"

  "I know," Marshall said softly. He rolled his body which caused Erik to finally lift his head. Marshall turned over and wrapped himself around Erik, claiming his lips with an intensity that made Erik's heart and sex swell.

  Marshall's fingertips lightly glided over Erik's ribs, tickling his flesh in a beautifully tender way. His tongue brushed the roof of Erik's mouth, swirling and licking and thrusting. He moaned against his ex-partner's lips and rolled his body so Erik could feel just how badly Marshall had missed him.

  Erik pressed his palms against Marshall's shoulder, easing them both out of the kiss. His eyes opened slowly, meeting Marshall's confused stare. "What are we doing?"

  "Making out. Maybe making love if all goes well," Marshall said with a smile as he leaned down to finish the kiss.

  "No." Erik stopped him. His tired brown eyes searched Marshall's face, back and forth, back and forth again. "You tell me you miss
this. What do you miss, exactly? Fucking me? Being near me? What?"

  "I miss you," Marshall said. He brushed his thumb over Erik's lip. "I miss what we had. I… I want to have a home with you again." He pressed his lips to Erik's forehead. "I never stopped loving you, baby. I didn't want you to go, but we both needed that break."

  Erik held Marshall, hugging him with everything he had. That was exactly what he needed to hear. He needed this to be about more than just sex, just rekindling the lust they had for each other before it had ever ignited into full-blown love.

  "Nothing would make me happier," he whispered. "I've felt so incomplete since I left."

  "Why won't you tell me what the 'but' is that you insist on omitting?"

  "I can't leave Los Angeles, Marshall, not right now. I have patients who need me."

  "But that's not a 'no', just a 'not right now', right?"

  Erik smiled, stroking his thumb back and forth over Marshall's lips as he stared up at those incredible, intoxicating, green eyes.

  "That's exactly what it is."

  "Make love to me, Erik. Make love to me like you used to," Marshall begged, drawing the tip of his lover's thumb between his lips.

  Erik slipped out from under him and Marshall lay face down on the bed, the dark, silky sheets twisting around their bodies. He kissed his ex's back as he reached for the lube they'd left on the night stand. His erection brushed the perfect curve of Marshall's bare bottom and that only made him throb harder.

  "I only wanted us to be happy," Erik whispered as he lubed his hand.

  "We'll be happy again," Marshall breathed.

  Closing his eyes again, Erik swallowed back the excitement and lust and love and fear that had formed a hard knot in his throat. He'd never stopped loving Marshall, but he'd taken his heart back long ago. He wouldn't give it away so easily again.