by Lynda Aicher
“I wish you didn’t have to.” Eleanor leaned into her husband, and he supported her in that way that spoke of years of give and take and being there for each other. That bond wasn’t something Liv’s parents had ever demonstrated, yet she still yearned for that kind of connection.
“Tyler has already been through so much in his life,” Allie said, a thread of vigor making her voice stronger. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
“People rarely do,” Liv said when the other two didn’t respond. “Yet it happens all the time. I see kids every day who have already lived through more than some do in a lifetime. And they’re just kids. We survive or crumble. Tyler’s a survivor. He has to be or he wouldn’t be with the two of you, right?”
Allie shook her head and stared at the ceiling. “God, I’m being such a baby.”
“No, you’re not,” Liv insisted. “You’re being human. Now wipe away those tears and go check on those men of yours.”
Allie nodded then hugged Liv with her good arm. “Thank you. I don’t know what we did to get a friend like you, but I’m glad you’re here.”
Warmth spread outward through Liv’s heart. “Me, too,” she whispered then let Allie go.
She was packing up the food containers not long after Allie headed back to Tyler’s room when Eleanor handed one over. When she didn’t let go, Liv looked up.
“You’re a good friend,” the woman said. “Thank you for being here for everyone.”
Liv straightened. “Of course.” She frowned a little. “I just wish I could do more.”
Eleanor rubbed Liv’s arm, her smile faint. “The fact that you don’t realize what you’re already doing says everything.” She released the container and started picking up the random bottles and trash that had been left during the day.
Liv was still pondering Allie’s situation and how Cali was in the same position with her family when she tapped on Jake’s door. She stuck her head in at Cali’s soft call to enter. A quick glance showed Jake sleeping in a bed that looked too small for him and the brace that enclosed his left leg from hip to toes.
Cali grabbed her containers and came over to Liv, motioning to the hallway. She waited for the door to close behind them before she spoke. “Thank you for bringing this. Jake practically inhaled it.”
Liv laughed as she dropped the empties into her bag. “Good. He needs to keep his strength up.”
“Yeah.” Cali sighed and leaned against the wall. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears, her silver choker on clear display over her navy sweater set now that the neck brace was gone. The only visible remnant of the accident was a green-and-yellow bruise that ran along her hairline. “We all do.”
“How are you holding up?” Liv asked, concerned. It was hard to see everyone hitting that exhausted point that let the doubts fester.
“I’m fine.” The reassurance was quick but lacked strength. Cali smiled at the doubtful look Liv shot her. “Really. Jake’s coming home. He’s alive and will heal. That’s the most important thing.”
“It is.”
The buzz of the nurse’s station drifted down the hallway to blend with the canned laughter from a sitcom that came through the open door of another room.
“He’s going to be a big ornery bear until he can walk again,” Cali said after a moment, her fingers stroking over the choker links absently.
Liv chuckled in agreement. “Good.” She didn’t know Jake well, but she couldn’t imagine him being happy stuck in a bed. “It’ll motivate him to get moving faster.”
“God, I hope you’re right.” Cali made a lazy roll of her head to smile at Liv. “Carter told me about the house. Thank you.”
Liv waved her off. She was getting tired of everyone thanking her for simply doing what was right. “It was nothing. I left some meals in the freezer for you, too. Just let me know if you need more.”
“Where did you come from?” Cali asked, her mystified expression softened by the smile that was still in place.
“V swears I’m from the milkman, but I have bets on an alien,” she shot back with a grin, which got the laugh Cali seemed to need. Liv leaned her shoulder on the wall next to Cali, her focus going to the delicate infinity loop chain that circled the woman’s neck. Or was it a collar? “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Cali answered.
What am I doing? Liv jerked up, a chill on her skin for the faux pas she’d almost committed. This was not the time or place to dig into Cali’s life, no matter how much she wanted to understand what drove people to the BDSM lifestyle. My God, she was no better than the media vultures who’d already shredded Cali’s privacy.
“Never mind,” she said, her voice wavering just a touch. “It’s not important.”
Cali frowned. “You sure?”
“More than.”
“Real—” Cali halted her response midword, a ghostly pale descending over her face as she straightened from the wall. Her focus wasn’t on Liv though, but on something behind her.
“What?” Liv spun around. Her pulse spiked as she prepared to defend her friend, only to see nothing out of the norm.
Cali clutched her arm, the grip equaling Allie’s earlier hold on her hand. Liv tracked her gaze to see her focus on the three people approaching them, all of them staring right back. She quickly locked in the two who appeared to be in their early to midtwenties and pulled up a memory of them from the first day in the waiting room. Cali’s kids. And given the build and facial resemblance between the son and the older man behind him, Liv was guessing that was their dad, Cali’s ex-husband.
“Crap,” Liv said under her breath. She turned to Cali. “Should I stay?”
The open fear on Cali’s face when she looked to Liv was replaced by determination before she turned back to face her family.
“Mom.” Her daughter spoke first, the single word weak with hesitation and question.
“Steph,” Cali said. “Logan. Peter. I’m surprised to see you here.”
Liv’s sense of intruding on a private family moment sparked louder than the invisible tension that strung between them, but Cali still claimed a hold on Liv’s arm. Whether intentional or not, she wasn’t leaving her friend until the woman said she was okay.
The ex-husband stepped between the other two to pull a stiff Cali into a hug. “I’m sorry, Cal. I’m so sorry all of this happened to you.”
After a moment, her arms went around him in a tentative hold before she pushed back. “Thank you, Peter.” She wiped at her eyes. “Why are you here?”
Liv edged back until the wall stopped her. These were the kids who’d condemned their mother after the media spilled the secrets on her and Jake’s private life, and she didn’t want to impede on what appeared to be a possible reconciliation.
Her daughter stepped up to take Cali’s hands, eyes watery. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I was shocked and hurt and…” She swallowed. “Worried. I was worried about you.”
“But why?” Cali questioned.
Steph flicked her gaze to Logan, whose expression remained flat and hard. “You’re our mother.” Her focus noticeably drifted to Cali’s choker. “There are things we probably shouldn’t know about our parents.” Her eyes met Cali’s again. “It took some time for me to wrap my head around the idea that you and Jake—”
“I get it,” Cali cut in, her cheeks turning a bright red that matched her daughter’s. “And now?”
Steph looked over her shoulder at her dad and smiled. “Dad reminded us that you’ve never stopped loving us no matter what we did. I’d like to think I learned something of value from the two of you.”
Their hug was one that brought tears to Liv’s eyes. God, she needed to get out of there. She edged down the hallway as Cali turned to her son.
“Logan?”
Liv paused when the young man didn’t respond. His strong jaw worked with the flexing of his lips before he dropped his gaze to the ground, the tension falling from his stance. “I love you, M
om.” The words were quick and mumbled but still clear. He snapped his head up, his glare menacing. “But if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.”
Cali’s muffled laugh before she hauled her son into a hug was the signal Liv needed. Cali had at least part of her family back, and that was another victory against the media and the bastard Harcourt.
She made her escape and took the long way around to the elevator to avoid intruding. She hesitated with her finger over the elevator buttons. The brief debate if she should head back to the ICU to find Noah was quickly decided. With a decisive thrust, she hit the parking level one and stepped back.
They’d barely spoken to each other before they’d left the house, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to him or what she wanted to do. She’d spent most of her free time since talking to V trying not to think about what her sister had said. Mostly about what it meant for her and Noah and their undefined relationship.
His reason for not wanting her at The Den might be valid, but it opened more questions where she wanted answers. It was the most he’d willingly exposed about himself, and she valued that, but what did she do with it? What did she want to do with it, if anything?
He hadn’t given her the why of his reasoning. Still hadn’t opened up about his past and whatever had hurt him so badly. The one V had alluded to, he avoided and the media hadn’t discovered.
The elevators swooshed open to a half-empty parking garage and no revelations. She was entering the highway before she realized how comfortable she was driving Noah’s SUV around. This wasn’t her car. Just like she wasn’t going to her house or sleeping in her bed. It all belonged to Noah, and she was his guest unless they made it more or she left.
And that was what she had to decide. Did she want to belong to Noah, too, and if so, in what way? How would she know if they never tried the Dom/sub thing?
If he was holding back because of the whole lifestyle issue, then it was time she got some hands-on experience, and what better place was there to learn about BDSM than at The Den?
Chapter Twenty-One
Noah stood between the two rooms, the glass fronts displaying the devastation that had changed so many lives. Equal to the two patients who both appeared almost peaceful in their beds was the changed appearance of the two men who sat in vigil beside them.
The pump and hiss of equipment formed a symphony that spoke of wreckage and death, while additional beeps added hope. It was a song he never wanted to hear again, yet it provided possibilities while it still played.
Deklan was hunched forward in the chair, fingers digging into the bristly hair that had regrown, the fresh scar a purple mark over his scalp. His face was darkened by a beard and would’ve added to his predatory air if he still carried it. Defeated wasn’t the word Noah would use to describe the man, but it was damn close. He’d chucked the sling days after the accident, and the bruises on his face had faded to a faint yellow.
Of the two, Seth’s change was probably more drastic in a different way. Six days ago, he’d strode into the hospital in new clothes and a new haircut. Gone was his shoulder-length hair, replaced by buzzed sides and barely enough length on top to run fingers through. Where Deklan’s appearance had declined, Seth’s had sharpened. The new hairstyle defined the angles of his face and the hardened expression that had settled on it, making the refinement he’d always carried even more pronounced.
Then there were the victims. Neither was on a ventilator now, but both bore fading bruises on their faces. Although the doctors were currently more worried over Kendra’s condition with the bruising on the brain, her long-term recovery needs were still unknown.
It was Tyler who’d suffered broken bones from his collarbone to his ankle. It seemed like the entire right side of his body had been crushed. Leg, pelvis, ribs, arm, shoulder—too many bones to recount on memory. Fortunately, there was no apparent damage to his brain. The doctors weren’t as worried about his waking from the induced coma, but his rehabilitation was going to be long and hard.
Seeing their struggle brought back a truckload of memories and even more emotions that he didn’t want to resurrect. The gut-wrenching pain of loss, of helplessness, of blame, of what-ifs and whys that could never be answered. It all prickled over his skin every time he entered the hospital. Beth had been pronounced dead at the scene, but he’d still lived through the emotional aftermath of suddenly losing someone he’d loved.
His mind checked on the word loved. Yes, he’d loved Beth, but had it been with the depth and level that Seth and Deklan had for their partners? He could now admit the answer was no. Beth had been his full-time submissive, something he’d been unequipped to handle. She’d kept her emotional instability hidden behind her guise to submit when she’d really needed something completely different.
Something he’d been too absent to notice, and it’d ended with her suicide. After that he’d thought he was better alone, where the pain of loss couldn’t touch him. It still did. The curse of love was the many variations in which it existed. He still loved and felt and cared, despite his desire to turn it all off. Shutting people out hadn’t stopped the emotions from taking root.
And shutting Liv out wouldn’t keep him from loving her. The heartbreaking reality was he had no control over it or the level at which he would love her.
He placed Liv in one of those beds for a mental second and broke into a thousand pieces. Sweat dampened his back and brow, and his breath rushed from his lungs in a gush of pure misery that sucked him dry.
Losing her that way would leave him absolutely empty.
Shaken, he shut down the thoughts, regained his focus and waited at the door until Seth noticed him. The customary visitation rules had gone slack after the third day. They were basically allowed to come and go within reason. A privilege he’d noted that wasn’t extended to all of the families waiting on patients in that unit.
“Ready for tomorrow?” he asked Seth. Bringing Tyler out of the coma was only the first step in the man’s recovery, but it was a step forward.
Seth studied his lover, the edges that hardened his face softening to worry. “Yeah.” He brushed his fingers over a spot on Tyler’s good arm that didn’t have IVs and tubes coming out of it. “When I see his eyes again, I’ll know he’s okay.”
The tender moment was cut short by Seth’s quick exhale as he stood. The black sweater was probably cashmere, and with the determined look he nailed at Noah, the man appeared ready to tackle an angry boardroom. Everyone handled grief differently and Seth had gained a focused drive that somehow had the hospital staff jumping and favors being granted for them. Noah was more than appreciative of Seth’s surprising knowledge of hospital procedure and bureaucracy.
“Grab Deklan,” Seth said as he came around the end of the bed.
Noah spotted Allie entering the ICU as he swung around to Kendra’s room. Deklan looked up, his features shifting from blankness to question to frustration in the span of a breath.
“I don’t care,” Deklan said before Noah could say a word. “You two do whatever you want. I just… I don’t… I can’t care.”
Seth stepped in beside Noah, hands stuffed in the pocket of his slacks. “You should.”
Deklan lunged to his feet. “Fuck you, Mathews.” His glare wouldn’t work on them. They weren’t there to baby him.
Noah glanced out the door to catch the frowns of the two nurses at the desk. “I’m not here to fight.” He shot each man a pointed look. “Should we take this somewhere else, or can you both hold your temper?”
Deklan stalked past them and left the room without a word. Seth rolled his shoulders and followed, which left Noah to bring up the rear. Deklan ducked into the waiting room, spoke to Kendra’s parents then headed to the stairwell. He shoved the door open with enough force that it banged against the wall and echoed down the hall. Great.
Noah took a deep breath and worked through his own frustrations during the descent to the ground floor. None of them said a word on their trek outs
ide and across the street to an unofficial smoking area identified by the lingering scent of tobacco and the sand-filled bucket littered with buds.
Deklan jerked a cigarette out of a pack and lit it with a practiced grace that said he’d done it many times before. The tip burned bright in the night, the low glow of the street lamps reaching them only in the periphery.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Noah commented. He’d known Deklan for seven years and not once had the man lit up in front of him.
He exhaled the smoke in a smooth stream upward and tucked the lighter into his pocket. “I don’t.”
“Have you calmed down?” Seth stood with his arms crossed, his tone neutral despite his aggressive pose.
Deklan took another deep suck of the tobacco, held it and finally exhaled. “Now I am.”
With all of them dressed in black, they almost blended into the shadows, and that was good. The media had mostly ditched their hospital vigil, having glommed on to another story, but it still paid to be cautious.
“There are a few things I need your approval on,” Noah said.
“Then talk.” Deklan’s direct approach was more in line of his usual style, and Noah noted that Seth relaxed his stance to shift his hands into his pockets.
“Butch is working out in the Dungeon and the BDSM side of things. The staff seems to respect him, and he’s integrated well with the members. I’d like to hire him permanently.”
Seth and Deklan managed to communicate silently through the darkness before Deklan gave a nod. “Do it.”
“Done.” Noah plowed on. “Marcus wants to take over the business stuff.”
“What?” Seth glared at Noah like it was his idea. “That can’t be done remotely.”
“The kid’s too damn young to know what’s good for him,” Deklan grumbled.
Noah rubbed a hand over his mouth and formed his words before he spoke. “He’s a partner with the skills and knowledge to do the job. It’ll also bring some continuity to The Den while you guys are out.”
