Watching him, his attempt to win her forgiveness a failure, his posture dejected, she regretted being so hard on him. “Matisse,” she called out quietly.
“Ouais?” His voice was muffled.
“What did the song say?”
His dark eyes flashed at her, peeking up over his arm. “You really want to know?”
She nodded. “Of course, Romeo. Tell me.”
“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me.”
“Oh, Matisse.” She was a terrible person.
He went on, “I’ll make a land where love can be king.”
Well, that was a little over the top, but she appreciated the sentiment.
“And love can be law.”
She hoped he couldn’t see her roll her eyes.
“And you can be queen.”
Holding up a hand to stop him, she tried to hide the smile threatening her lips. From below her, a voice called up, “Don’t leave me! I’ll make it up to you! Words are meaningless!”
“Shut up!” Matisse yelled down. “You’re ruining it!”
A laugh exploded out of her, a little wild and unhinged. Glaring down at Apollo and Ryan, Matisse flipped them the bird and growled when they called in French, “Ne me quitte pas! Ne me quitte pas!”
“I’m shutting the window now,” she told them all. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Giving up, Matisse joined in, and they sang as one, “Ne me quitte pas!”
She could still hear them laughing as she left her room.
THIRTY-ONE
Physicality
IT WAS DECIDED that Matisse would accompany Nora back to the hospital. According to Matisse and Nora, it made the most sense. Ryan and Apollo had classes the following day, and they could visit between each one.
“Drive or walk?” Matisse asked. Ever since his treetop serenade, he’d been staying close to her. Touching her arm, her shoulder. There remained a serious conversation in their future, but she knew what it was like to be frightened about their relationship. Only a few days ago, he’d allayed her fears about Ryan, so she tabled the topic. Right now, he needed the comfort of her touch; she could give it to him.
“Walk.” Linking her arm through his, they walked down the driveway. The medical campus was in the heart of Brownington College. It didn’t make sense for all of them to drive separately; they could always switch cars.
The rain had stopped, and in the weird way of November, the air was warmer than it had been in days.
“I’ve never dated someone before sleeping with them,” he said quietly as they turned the corner.
So much was explained by his comment.
“I don’t think we’re moving slowly, necessarily,” she answered, leaning her head on his arm. The leather of his jacket was cool against her cheek and smelled faintly of exhaust.
“Slower than I’m used to,” he replied.
In the streetlights, his face was thoughtful. Though his words seemed to suggest he wasn’t enjoying their speed, she thought he was musing, not complaining.
“Does it bother you?”
Shaking his head, he amended his answer by shrugging. “I don’t know. It’s never been a big deal to me— sex. I’m not great at taking others’ perspectives, and I’ve always assumed if it wasn’t a big deal to me, it wouldn’t be to anyone else. It’s only ever been something that feels good. But it’s more than that. It’s important.”
“If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be so upset we weren’t…” Her face heated. “You know.”
Narrowed eyes gleaming, he said, “I know.”
He moved his arm away from hers, wrapping it around her shoulder. “We’ll move at our own speed. I’m sorry I was an asshole.”
“It’s going to happen. For all of us. It’s inevitable.”
“Do you really forgive me?” Disbelief laced his words.
“I do.” She stopped him, standing on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer to her. “I do, Matisse. We’ll keep talking about it, but whatever we do—” Making sure he was listening, she held his face between her hands. “Matisse. Whatever we do, it’s between us. Only us. What happens with the other guys, it’s between me and each of them. Does that make sense?”
Nodding, he leaned closer, his forehead against hers. “It does. I really am sorry.”
She lifted her lips to his. He tasted minty with a hint of coffee. “We go at our own pace. I want it to be special. You’re special to me, Matisse. I’ll remember the first time we’re together for the rest of our lives.”
Stilling against her, he suddenly froze. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”
She heard everything he wasn’t saying. Whatever encounters he’d had in his past, they weren’t something he carried with him, something meaningful he’d experienced.
“It will be. Maybe I’ll elbow you in the face when I take off my bra,” she said seriously, trying not to smile. “Or maybe I’ll kick you in the junk.”
“You didn’t call it ‘junk.’”
Her face heated, but she soldiered on. “It’ll be us.”
A smile began to grow. His cool hands gripped hers, pulling them between their bodies as he stepped forward. Their fingers entwined as he squeezed hers tightly. “I love you, Nora.”
Shoulders relaxing, she laid her cheek against his jacket. “I love you, Matisse,” she replied.
They stood that way, listening to the traffic and each other’s breaths. The wind blew Matisse’s loose hair across Nora’s face; the scent of his shampoo washed over her. A cyclist rang his bell at them, whipping by them on the sidewalk and making them both jump.
Slowly, Matisse took her hand in his again. “He was sleeping when Ryan called earlier, hadn’t woken up yet.”
His words lit a fire under her ass. Hurrying now, her breath quick pants, they jogged along the sidewalk. By the time they walked into the lobby, they were both sweating, Matisse unzipped his jacket as soon as the elevator doors shut.
Their fingers clutched each other’s, but neither of them spoke, merely staring at the numbers lighting up as they came closer to Cai’s floor. When the doors opened, they hurried through, checking in briefly at the nurse’s desk.
“No,” she informed them. “He hasn’t woken yet, but he’s resting comfortably and his fever is lower.”
“Normal?” Nora asked.
The nurse shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
Stomach sinking, she held onto Matisse’s hand a little tighter. He thanked the nurse as he drew Nora down the hallway.
“Should we try to wake him up?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” More than anything, she wanted to see his eyes. Hear his voice.
The room was dark and quiet. Cai was alone. The bed next to his had the same sheets from this morning, but the chairs had been pushed back against the wall, probably to make room for the doctors and nurses who’d worked over him. Matisse grabbed the closest one, moving it into place.
Cai looked better than he had this morning, but he still had dark circles beneath his eyes. His face was so pale the purplish color resembled a bruise. His hair was greasy and lay lankly across his forehead. Brushing it aside, she rested her cheek there. He was still warm, but no longer did it seem as if he was burning from the inside out.
Beneath her, he began to stir, breathing in and sighing.
“Cai?” Straightening, she watched his face for signs he was awakening, but he only shifted, head turning on the pillow.
“Waking up?” Matisse whispered.
“No,” she shook her head. “I thought for a minute maybe, but no.”
“I can wake him up.” Taking out his phone, he began to thumb across the screen.
“No.” Rolling her eyes, she took it from his hand, pausing when she saw the screen saver. It was her asleep with Ryan and Apollo last night. Glancing up quickly, she held out his phone to him. “Here. Now, leave him alone. If he needs to sleep, let him sleep.”
“Goo
d picture, yeah?” he asked, dropping the phone into the front pocket of his shirt.
“It’s sweet,” she agreed. “I’m surprised—”
“Wait!” he interrupted, taking his phone out again and holding it out. “Look at this one.”
A snort escaped her. The picture was exactly what she expected. All of them, Matisse included though he was the only one awake, in bed. Two fingers held up in a peace sign.
“Hey,” a voice said from the bed.
Immediately, they forgot about the picture. Cai smiled at them before scowling and smacking his lips together. Brushing his hand across his face, he paused. “How long have I been asleep?” As he examined the hospital room, he seemed to panic. “What day is it?”
His question gave her pause. What day was it? The events of the week blurred together. Was it Wednesday? Thursday?
“Damn,” Cai muttered, tugging on his IV. “Did anyone call my work?”
Nora grimaced.
“Damn,” he said again, catching the expression on her face.
“Seok did,” Matisse answered.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized to them both. “I didn’t think about it.”
Waving her off, Matisse continued, “Don’t worry about it. None of us did. Aislinn called to check in on you, and Seok let her know where you were.”
“Should I let the nurse know you’re awake?” she asked, reaching for his hand. His fingers, when they squeezed hers, were strong and firm. There was no weakness or trembling in his grip the way there had been earlier in the week. Nora allowed herself to hope he really was recovering. “Do you feel any better?”
Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her once before letting go. “I am. Feels like the rock sitting on my chest is gone, and I don’t hurt as much.”
Unable to keep from touching him, she smoothed his hair away from his face.
“Even my fingernails hurt.”
“You had us worried.” Matisse sat on the other side of the bed, one long leg tucked beneath the other.
Needing to get closer, Nora wrapped Cai’s hand in both of hers. She wanted to lie on him, but was afraid of hurting his chest or making it difficult for him to breathe, so she made due with resting her head against the back of his hand.
“The rest of the guys at home?”
“Yeah. Apollo and Ryan need to go to class tomorrow, so we’re the night shift,” Nora answered.
“Seok?” Cai asked.
“Seok was here all day.”
“Someone has been with me the entire time?” His eyes widened, surprised.
“Yes,” she answered, kissing him again.
“Probably why I was able to sleep,” he murmured.
The idea warmed her. Their presence eased him, made him able to rest and give his body what it needed to heal. No one had ever watched out for her like that, but she knew if she needed it, they’d be there.
“Any word on Ryan’s waitlisting?” Up for only minutes and Cai was already worrying about his friends.
“Not since he finished his homework and sent it off to his Professor. From what I understand, he’s going to request a meeting with the student advisory council when they receive his defense.”
“Good,” Cai said. “We should go down with him. When my brain clears, I’ll call some other people. I bet there are a lot of people who would want to share stories about the things Ryan did to help them.”
“You’re awake!” A nurse interrupted them, bustling into the room. “It is good to see those gorgeous eyes!”
Cai’s face flushed, but Nora and Matisse laughed. White-haired, wearing scrubs with pictures of cartoon characters, the nurse gave off a strong maternal vibe. “You’re getting down there,” she announced after taking his temperature. “Definitely on the mend. I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. Hungry?”
Cai shook his head, as did Matisse and Nora when the nurse raised an eyebrow in their direction.
“I really want a shower,” Cai said, inclining the head of the bed. “But I’m not sure I can stand.”
“We’ll get you into the shower,” the nurse assured him. “There’s a seat. You can sit and wash. Let me get you some toiletries; I’ll be right back.”
“I’m hooked up in all kinds of weird places,” Cai observed as he gave an experimental wiggle.
“Want me to leave?” Nora asked, wanting to give him the privacy and space he might need.
Holding tightly to her hand, he shook his head. “No. Maybe when I have to get out and shuffle to the bathroom like an old man.”
“You saw me shuffle,” she reminded him. “Let me help.”
In no time the nurse returned, and between Matisse and the nurse, with Nora’s main contribution hovering, Cai was in the shower.
“Call out if you start to feel weird,” the nurse directed.
He gave them a thumbs up, and they left him to it.
THIRTY-TWO
Betrayal
CAI WOULDN’T FREAK out. He wasn’t dying; he was healing, getting better.
But he couldn’t help feeling betrayed by his body. He’d done everything right: physicals, shots, vegetables. It reminded him that no matter how much work he did to stay healthy now, he was at a disadvantage. None of those things parents normally did for their children had been done for him, and now, as he sat naked and trembling on a bench in a lukewarm shower, too tired to lean forward and turn up the hot water, he was paying the price.
There was no doubt in his mind his illness was a direct result of his parents’, specifically his father’s, weird, homegrown, charismatic healing practices. The doctor would be in soon, and he wanted to ask her about it.
Scarlet fever! Who got scarlet fever anymore?
Holding tightly to the grab bar, he leaned forward, flipping off the water then reaching for the towel. A knock immediately sounded at the door, and it opened a fraction.
“Need some help?”
“I got it,” he answered. For now.
The nurse left, and another hand, this one pale and long-fingered and holding a pair of sweatpants and a button-down shirt, reached through the crack.
“Thanks,” he told Matisse.
He could count on his friends to know he didn’t want to be in a hospital gown anymore. This way, when he inched back to bed, he didn’t need to show Nora his pale ass. Once he’d pushed himself to stand, he waited for his head to stop spinning before venturing forward. When the door opened, the nurse stepped forward immediately.
“You tough guys,” she chided. Her solid arm went around his waist, giving him a sense that even if she was older and small, he wasn’t going to hit the floor on her watch.
While he’d been in the shower, someone had changed his sheets, adding a number of blankets to the bed, so when he got in and they were piled on top of him, he was warm and snug. It reminded him how much comfort meeting someone’s basic needs could give. Warmth, a bed, a shower, a pair of sweatpants—he was human again.
Dark eyes tracked all of his movement. He could tell Nora was ready to jump in at the slightest sign from him. She was the first to step forward, tucking him in and kissing him. Her hands were cool against his steam-warmed skin, and her brows drew together.
“Is he sick again?”
“Just the shower,” the nurse reassured her.
Before reaching for his hands, Nora cracked her knuckles nervously. “You’re sure?”
“Mr. Josephs?” A man in a white coat stood at the door, and when their attention turned to him, he came inside, sanitizing his hands at the small station next to the door. He rubbed his hands together before reaching for Cai’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m the doctor on call. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he confirmed.
“Good,” the doctor answered. Confidently, he examined Cai, all the while asking questions.
“Lungs are sounding clear,” the doctor announced, stepping away from the bed and wrapping the stethoscope around his neck. “I’ll get an x-ray to be sure.”
>
“You’re sure it’s nothing else?” Nora asked.
It was the same question Cai had but was struggling to formulate.
“I missed a ton of vaccines when I was a kid,” she went on. “I’m up to date now, but could I have passed something on to him?”
Shaking his head, the doctor opened up a laptop and began to type. “Unlikely. I’m looking at Mr. Josephs’ medical records now.” He glanced up at Cai. “You were late on a number of vacs as well, but this wasn’t something you were going to avoid with a vaccine. Maybe you were a little rundown and were exposed to strep at the wrong time, but it’s not a symptom of some other illness.”
Both he and Nora sighed at the same time. Funny, he hadn’t thought about how her past was similar to his in this way. They’d both been neglected. Leave it to her to find a way to alleviate his fears, knowing what they were without having to ask.
The beeper on the doctor’s belt vibrated. “Excuse me,” he said. “Another doctor will check on you in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Cai said.
Lifting a hand in farewell, the doctor left them.
“I’ll be back to run your stats,” the nurse added. “Just hit the button if you need anything.”
Thanking her as well, the three of them were left alone, and he was suddenly exhausted.
“Close your eyes.” Nora sat on the edge of his bed again, threading her fingers through his damp hair. “Rest.”
Each swipe through his hair brought the pads of her fingers across his forehead. He didn’t realize he held tension in his scalp, but his eyes relaxed and all his muscles unclenched. In a low tone, she began to talk to Matisse. He listened, part of his mind on the feel of her, the other on the soothing melody of her voice. Every so often, a word would pierce the veil of his consciousness, but otherwise he existed in a semi-conscious state of total relief.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was dark and silent except for Nora’s soft snores and the white light of Matisse’s phone.
“Need anything?” The vinyl on the chair creaked as Matisse leaned forward.
Finding Valor (The Searchers Book 2) Page 21
