by Clare London
“I’m… not sure I can talk about it just yet.” Donnie’s smile was the sweetest thing Will had ever seen. “I’m just glad we’re here together again. And I’ll be going home with you tomorrow.”
Will’s resolve faltered. “My apartment… it’s not exactly cosy. Not like your flat. It’s full of…” He hated saying this, but he hadn’t been honest enough about it to date, and now it was important.
“Things from your world?”
“No! Well, yes. But that’s the point! I don’t want that world any longer, Donnie. I want yours.”
“My world is you,” Donnie said, eyes twinkling. “Wherever it is.”
“Well then, you’re more mature than I have been about it. I hadn’t realised what a treasure you are.”
“Don’t. That sounds weird.” Donnie really was embarrassed now. “I just want you.”
God, but Will wanted to go to bed with him! That way Donnie teased his lower lip when he was thinking was so sexy. Will was going to need a bigger table to cover his crotch. “I want you too, but I’ve gone completely the wrong way about it. Using you to run the crap things in my business.”
“Will, I love the job. I want to help my friends. I want to help you.”
“And my God, you have. You’ve brought light into my life.”
Donnie gave a small gasp. “I know. I mean, someone told me you said that.”
“They did?” Maybe Donnie would tell him about that later, too. “You’ve helped me in a place and at a time when I didn’t know my way around. You’ve made me bold, Donnie.”
“You mean, in bed?” Donnie sniggered.
Table alert! “Yes. That. But in my business, too. I hadn’t realised how much I care about my new practice. I’ve been lying here thinking about the clients, the pets, what better things I can do. About what you’ve contributed to the business, how we’ve been making decisions about it together, even if I haven’t always acknowledged that. About working with you every day.” And wasn’t that the best thing of all? “I didn’t know I could feel this fulfilled. To hell with whether I buy another property in the future which, by the way, I’m putting on hold. I’m thrilled with what I’ve got right now. I’ve never been so proud of anything in my life.”
Donnie sighed. “That’s perfect,” he said, his voice a little shaky.
But Will was going to put it all out there, now he’d started. “I’d been thinking you needed protection. I thought you were naïve, thinking the best of everyone, not getting riled. Wasting—no, sharing—your time with everyone who asked. Putting others first at your own expense.”
“You make me sound like the worst kind of do-gooder.”
“No. You’re Donnie Watson and you’re a good friend. And you care. You don’t judge.”
“I never judged you, Will.” Donnie looked ominously close to tears. Will suspected he looked the same but luckily there were no mirrored surfaces nearby. “You’re so much better than me.”
“No!” Will’s voice came out as almost a wail. “That’s exactly what I mean. You’re the best. You’ve kept the practice going. You’re back on the fundraising committee and in your element. Everyone likes and wants to help you. You love your family and they love you, they depend on you.” He swallowed hard. “I realised I envy you your life.”
“But maybe not my lumpy sofa. You think I haven’t noticed you wincing every time you get up from it?”
It was okay if Donnie joked, to keep his equilibrium. Donnie had always been serious and honest enough with Will in the dark of the night, and showed his respect in everything he did for and with Will.
“I hope you can find time again for me,” Will said softly. He had his fingers crossed under the sheet. “But I’m not demanding it.”
“You don’t need to. And, you know what? Sometimes I love you protecting me. Worrying about me.”
And then—glorious delight!—Donnie leaned over the bed and kissed him on the mouth. No tongues, but it was a beginning.
“William?”
The sharp, female voice cut across the ward like a well-modulated scalpel. Two people were approaching Will’s bed.
“Oh fuck,” Will murmured and sank back on his pillows.
“It’s Liam,” Donnie hissed.
“And my mother,” Will groaned.
CHAPTER 23
It had been an awkward introduction,
Donnie could see the resemblance in Will’s mother, but she was very severe compared to Will’s handsome, often ruffled look. And she seemed almost disappointed that there was nothing life-threatening wrong with Will.
“I suppose I can spend a little longer here,” she said. “Maybe ten minutes. I have an evening surgery I should return to.” Donnie had offered her one of the two chairs available, and Liam had immediately grabbed the other one. Donnie stood on the other side of the bed. He didn’t think he could perch on the bed at Will’s side with his mother right opposite.
“Why are you here, Mother?” Will asked, quite rudely, Donnie thought, though he applauded the sentiment.
“We came to see how you were, of course,” she replied. “I am a doctor, after all. I understand it’s just a recurrence of your old problem…”
Donnie tried not to smile at Will’s involuntary wince.
“… But I wanted to check they had your diagnosis correct.”
Looking at her grim expression, Donnie wouldn’t have wanted to be any medical professional who made a mistake on Will’s case.
“And you, Liam?” Will glared at Liam. Donnie flushed at Will’s fierceness. He knew it was inappropriate to feel that way here but, damn, it was sexy.
“Chill,” Liam said. “I came to the surgery today to talk about some properties and saw it was closed.”
Thank God, Donnie thought wryly, someone read his notice, even if it was Liam.
“Then a pretty little hairdresser told me you were in here, being visited by… um… your boyfriend. So I thought I should drop in to see how you were. I know my way around.” Liam gestured carelessly to encompass the whole room and probably most of the National Health Service itself. “Met Phyllida here in the waiting area. Thought we could visit together.”
Was it wrong for Donnie to wish Liam had experience of hospital from broken bones, many and often? He didn’t like the way Liam’s gaze kept flicking from Will over to Donnie himself. And there was something about Liam’s manner that was suspicious. He was uneasy here, despite his bluster. What was that all about?
“Donnie. Good to see you again.” Liam winked at him. Winked! “You’re busy with this fundraising project, aren’t you? The girl, Emma, told me about it. And Will said you dabbled with cakes, or something like that.”
“That’s not remotely what I said,” Will said with what sounded a bit like a growl.
“Yes, I bake,” Donnie said. “I’d say I’m a community baker.”
Will’s laugh came out as more of a gasp. “That’s an excellent description,” he said. “And you’re bloody excellent at it.”
Donnie liked Will’s proud smile. Could that really be for him?
Liam smirked. “Well, this little crash of Mr Peg-Leg may have put paid to any dabbling in hobbies for a while.”
“Several weeks keeping weight off that ankle,” said Phyllida in what must have been her ‘diagnosis’ voice. “Organise some physiotherapy if the weakness persists.”
Liam nodded seriously, as if he were a medic himself. Tosser.
“Will’s high maintenance, you know,” Liam said to Donnie. “And you’ll have your hands full keeping the surgery going. If I can help in any way…”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I haven’t found him high maintenance at all. And I think you’ll find I have everything in hand,” Donnie snapped. Unconsciously, he’d straightened up so he was looking down on Liam in the chair.
In the background, he heard Will chuckle.
Liam raised well-groomed eyebrows. It was as if he realised what Donnie was doing and acknowledged the counterstrike.
That—and the fact Will was being discussed and dismissed by two people who should know better—emboldened Donnie.
“On the other hand,” he said to Liam. “If you genuinely want to help, your contacts in the property world would be very useful. You must have connections with sympathetic banks and other lenders.”
“I… well, of course I do,” Liam blustered.
“Excellent. Rick Mathers is seeking to buy a property, to get the new housing project off the ground. I’ll ask him to contact you. And maybe your firm would consider sponsoring the legal and survey fees for the new premises? In exchange, I’m sure Rick would be happy to keep in touch when he’s looking for any more suitable properties in the future.”
Liam’s mouth opened: his cheeks went pink. He looked like he wanted to stand up, perhaps to reassert his size over Donnie, but instead he sank back into the chair. “I’ll look into that,” he said thickly. “I mean, yes. Great idea. Happy to help.”
“Liam?” Phyllida was talking to Liam but her gaze was, disconcertingly, on Donnie. “I think you had something else to say to Will.”
Liam scowled. “Sure. I came to apologise.”
Will scowled back. “What for?”
Liam went even redder. “What you told me about Uncle Gerry? I wasn’t very sympathetic to you.”
“You called me a liar,” Will snapped.
“Boys,” Phyllida said sternly. And didn’t that tone make Donnie feel five years old again? “There’s to be no argument.”
“But it’s true!” Donnie burst out. “Will is the one who suffered—he had to move home, lost his job, his friends. But it sounds to me like neither of you were supportive of him.”
“Mr Watson,” Phyllida said. She lifted an elegant hand as if calling for order in a court room. “I understand you may be moved on William’s behalf—”
“Damn right I am,” Donnie urged. “The harassment wasn’t violent, but it could have escalated.” He’d known instances where friends had been attacked: had been genuinely, and horribly abused. He wasn’t going to let anyone get away with this.
“Donnie,” Will said with a soft, resigned sigh.
To Donnie’s surprise, Phyllida broke in. “No, William, he’s right. We allowed our fear of losing face—a very fragile reputation, it seems—to get in the way of our care for you. Which is the most important thing, I’ve come to realise.” She met Donnie’s gaze like a challenge. “Mr Watson? Thank you for looking after Will.”
“No problem,” Donnie murmured, a little startled.
“And Will, I’m glad you still keep in touch. Very glad, though I may not have said it before now. But that doesn’t mean I should avoid apologising as well, on behalf of your father and I.”
“I… what?” And now it was Will’s turn to look shocked.
“Not only does Liam have to apologise to you for being an appallingly inadequate friend—”
And didn’t Liam look like he’d just swallowed a lemon?
“But I am here to apprise you of the fact that Gerald has been removed from the practice.”
“But how?” Will asked. “He owned the bloody place. He couldn’t be fired.”
Phyllida brushed some invisible thread off her tailored skirt. “Your father suggested he should retire early. Pass the surgery on to his far more principled deputy manager. Move far away from London. And remove himself from any situations where he may be tempted to corrupt any more protégées.” She pursed her lips before continuing. “I believe he’s setting up an animal charity. With his wife’s very close supervision.”
Donnie caught Will’s shocked gaze over the bed. She used prim language, but the meaning was clear. Uncle Gerry wouldn’t face the music for harassing Will, but at least he’d be prevented from making anyone else suffer. Because, in Donnie’s experience, and that of his extended family’s friends, abusers were so often repeat offenders.
“Mother.” Will didn’t seem to know what to say.
“Please shut your mouth, you look like you’re catching flies. And if there are flies in this ward, I will have something to say to the Hospital Board.” Phyllida stood, as immaculately presented as she had been on arrival. When Liam stood, his trousers were creased and one side of his shirt was hanging out at the waist. He looked like he’d been through a hedge, and not just a verbal scolding.
“Will?” she said. “Please call me soon. And you may visit at the weekend if your schedule allows.”
“Well, Mother, I’d planned to be sorting things out in my new apartment—”
“And bring Mr Watson with you. I assume he’s the young man you told me about so sentimentally?”
Will flushed scarlet, to Donnie’s secret delight.
“Call me Donnie,” he said, as she shook his hand goodbye.
“Is that short for Donald? Donovan?”
“No. It’s just Donnie.” Way to feel five years old again.
“You are a smart man,” she said. “Though I confess the purple shirt is a little eye-watering for my tastes. But I understand young people need to make themselves seen, one way or another.”
“Mother!” Will groaned from behind her.
“And the same for somewhat older men, too,” she said. And smiled almost conspiratorially at Donnie.
It was a lovely smile, so very like Will’s.
“I’ll leave you with my son for now. But please let me know how we can help as a family with your very worthy project.”
“Thank you, Mrs Cartwright, but I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing your family would be interested in.”
“You don’t think so?”
Will stirred in the bed behind them. “What does that mean?”
She turned to look at him, though her hand stayed in Donnie’s. “You won’t know this, William, but your father spent some time in a halfway house once. His father was a total brute and beat all of his siblings at one stage or another.” She said it as calmly as if she were recounting a story about someone else, but Donnie felt her hand tremble in his. “If it hadn’t been for the help of the local child services, I don’t know what would have happened to them.”
Donnie couldn’t help himself: he leaned in and hugged her. She was ramrod stiff in his arms for all of ten seconds, then relaxed a little. And when he let go, she was still smiling.
There wasn’t much of visiting time left after all the excitement of revelations about Will’s past, and news of Uncle bloody Gerry’s exile. Donnie spent it sitting as close to Will as he could get. They even snuck a kiss when most of the other patients were watching the football on TV.
“Look, Donnie,” Will said in a low, pained voice. “About Liam.”
“Don’t be daft. I know there’s nothing going on between you.”
“You do? I mean, obviously I have no interest in him at all. Never really did. And I’d assumed you saw right through him anyway.”
“Saw through…?”
Will frowned. “Don’t play coy. It’s you he’s been taken with, ever since he first saw you.”
“Oh, please. Now that is daft.”
“Can’t blame him,” Will said, with a smirk.
“Besides,” Donnie said firmly, “I can tell when a guy’s got something to hide. And the minute you handed me your phone to check up on Mrs E’s calls, I could see you were on the level. You were perfectly happy to let me see your phone, your texts, your call history.”
“Well yes, of course. Nothing to hide.”
“Apart perhaps for a tendency to diverticulitis. And another tendency to be evasive. And fear of a receding hairline.”
Will sat bolt upright, mouth open in protest. “What the hell?”
Donnie laughed. And squeezed Will’s hand.
This is what I am, who I am, he thought.
The man in love with Will Cartwright.
CHAPTER 24
“We’ll have to get up soon,” Donnie said. “We have to open the surgery at ten.”
Of course, neither he nor Will moved an inch in the bed, exce
pt to snuggle closer. His head nestled on Will’s chest, with Will flat on his back. Three weeks after the accident, Will’s ankle still wouldn’t take his whole weight, and sometimes when he was on all fours—there was a thought that made Donnie’s skin prickle with anticipation!—his knee could buckle underneath him.
Donnie didn’t care. He liked to lie on top. It gave him access to a lot of tantalising flesh. He licked aimlessly at Will’s nearest nipple, feeling it harden between his lips. Then he slid a hand down between Will’s thighs and smiled when Will sucked in a breath and tensed up.
“Donnie. Please.”
“Hm? Did you want something, Mr Cartwright?”
“Can I have another one?” Will murmured into Donnie’s ear. He nibbled the lobe, which he knew Donnie loved. “Please?”
But Donnie steeled himself against his shiver of delight and used his best ‘reception’ voice. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Come on, Donnie,” Will wheedled. “I’m ready for more. You’ve prepared me enough.”
“You shouldn’t be so greedy. These things should be savoured. Anticipated. Worked for.”
“I have worked for it!” Will huffed. “All last night!”
His eyes were wide and pleading. Donnie loved it when he looked like that. Like he couldn’t wait. Didn’t want to wait. And Donnie was the only one standing in the way of his gratification.
Donnie liked that, too.
“It won’t take long. Just a quick one.” Will was pouting now, which on a near forty-year-old man could have looked ridiculous. To Donnie, it was just another example of adorable.
“All right,” he said, sitting up with pretend irritation. He straddled Will’s hips, running his fingers through Will’s bushy salt-and-pepper treasure trail. “Only one more, mind you.”
“Everything’s on the table top,” Will said, a little breathlessly. “I put it out, ready for you.”
