"Hey, keep back; we need to get him stable." The hand gripping his arm pulled, but Jared resisted. He stared down at Kyle's deathly pale face, fearing what he'd see, terrified he would find no life, no warmth. Hands shaking, he reached out and stroked along Kyle's blood-streaked cheek, the skin so cold and clammy it caused Jared's heart to squeeze painfully. A half-strangled moan was ripped from his throat, a sound so anguished Jared instantly recognized it for what it was--a sound of grief. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and was startled as he felt a cold hand steal over his.
"Jared?"
Unbelieving, he opened his eyes and drew in a sharp, shocked breath as startling blue eyes stared up at him.
"Kyle, oh fuck, Kyle!" Overwhelming relief flooded through Jared, making him feel lightheaded and sick at the same time. He couldn't help it. He gathered Kyle into his arms and pulled him close, forgetting the possibility that he could injure Kyle further and once again ignoring the protests of the medic who was trying to get Jared to move away.
It was Kyle's groan that had Jared releasing him and laying him back down on the road. "Where are you hurt?" he asked as he quickly checked up and down Kyle's prone body, noticing the smears of dirt and blood on his clothes and shuddering in response.
"Come on, mate. We're still checking him out." The gruff voice behind him and the pull on his arm forced Jared to turn around and face the man who had spoken.
"How bad is he?" Jared asked, flicking him a quick glance before returning his gaze to Kyle, who looked paler than before.
"We don't know yet. That's what we're trying to find out. So do you mind?"
"It's just my ankle and my chest." Kyle's optimistic enlightenment did nothing to ease Jared's mind.
"What happened?" Kyle closed his eyes for a moment, and fear dug agonizing fingers into Jared's heart. "Kyle?"
"Hit by a car," Kyle said, opening his eyes again, the blue in them dull and filled with something more than just pain.
Jared lifted his head to look at the man who was standing by the parked car, talking to the police. Anger flared deep, and he almost stood up in an act of confrontation, but a firm hand on his stopped him.
"Wasn't his fault." Kyle's whispered words were barely audible. Jared looked back down onto Kyle's white face.
"What were you doing here, Kyle?" It wasn't the question he wanted to ask, but it was close enough, and Kyle would know what he meant. But Kyle didn't answer. Or perhaps he did. His hand fell away, and he closed his eyes again, turning his face in the opposite direction. The same hurt and anger that had filled Jared earlier filled him again. Though the hurt was swift, sharp, and fierce, it quickly dissipated, leaving behind a dark, menacing ball of resentment that stewed below the surface, prevailing simply because Jared wouldn't let it go. He stood up and moved away, watching impassively as the paramedics worked on Kyle, lifted him onto a gurney, and loaded him into the back of the ambulance.
"Where are you taking him?" he asked just before one of the men climbed into the back after Kyle.
"The hospital on Dean Street. Do you know it?"
"No, but I'll find it."
The man paused before closing the door to the ambulance. "Do you want to go with him?"
Jared shook his head. "No." Then at the man's frown, he indicated his truck. "I can't." He needed to move it; the cops wouldn't take too kindly to him leaving it there.
The man nodded before a curious gaze settled on his. "He was calling out your name, just before you got here. Seems like he needs you." Then he closed the door, and within seconds the ambulance moved off, lights still flashing, the siren starting up again.
Without him wanting it to, his anger drained away to be replaced with confusion. Kyle had called out his name? Why, when it had been Kyle who had walked away? With no immediate answer, Jared returned to his truck, his mind numb, his body on automatic. He climbed inside but then just sat there, staring straight ahead, vaguely aware that the police officer was walking back to his car, clearing the way for Jared to move his truck, but Jared didn't think he could drive. Gripping the steering wheel, he felt his hands start to shake and his body grow cold, and with partial awareness he realized he was going into mild shock. Teeth chattering, Jared felt like a fool. He hadn't been injured, hadn't been hurt, but seeing Kyle like that... Tears suddenly blurred his vision, and unable to blink them away, Jared let them fall.
It took him several minutes to pull himself together, several minutes in which he began to think. Had he been wrong about Kyle? Could there have been a reason for Kyle to leave that he hadn't thought of? Not sure if he needed to find out, not sure he could handle finding out, Jared nevertheless fired up the engine and set the truck in gear. He couldn't just sit there; he had to do something. He had to get to the hospital. He had to see for himself that Kyle was going to be all right, but after that...?
Bright lights sent new pinpoints of pain into the backs of his eyes, fighting for dominance with the pain that already flooded the rest of his body. Kyle groaned and tried to put an arm over his eyes to block out the light, but his arm felt heavy, tied down. He tried to remember why, tried to think about what the pain meant, but his head seemed fuzzy, disjointed, as if it didn't belong to him.
Jared. He remembered Jared, remembered seeing his distraught face, his terror-stricken eyes. Why? What was wrong? What had happened? Confused, Kyle tried to lift his arm again, this time getting it to move but noticing as he did so that he was indeed tied down. No, not tied, attached--he was attached to something. Coordination only barely there, Kyle focused his gaze on his arm and fuzzily recognized the clear plastic tubing and needle stuck into his skin. A drip? He was on a drip? Why?
Then it all came back to him. The road, the car, the pain, the loss of consciousness before he came awake to see Jared kneeling over him, that look in his eyes. Jared. Fuck.
Kyle groaned again, but it wasn't from the pain in his body. God, what had he done? He closed his eyes against the feelings of shame and humiliation that stuck him with deep, relentless barbs. How could he have done that? How could he have left Jared like that? How the fuck had insecurities he'd thought long gone reared their ugly heads and made him risk losing something that could have been wonderful?
Could have been, Kyle acknowledged. Now he'd never know.
Pain in his body began to flare a little brighter, converging around his ankle and chest specifically. Struggling, Kyle looked down and saw his left ankle encased in a cast. He wriggled his toes experimentally and cursed all living hell at the sickening pain that hit him. Okay, don't do that again, he warned himself, conscious of the beads of sweat that dewed his skin. With his right hand, he probed his chest, felt bandages wrapped around it and a deep-seated ache he reckoned was from bruising and not broken ribs. Though knowing his ankle seemed to be the worst of his problems didn't seem to help, because he ached all over and he felt tired and listless, worn and damaged. His vision swam, and a headache started to form behind his eyes. Okay, maybe his ankle wasn't the worst of his problems. Fighting nausea and dizziness, Kyle closed his eyes and felt unconsciousness begin to creep in. Sleep or otherwise, it didn't matter. It would take away the pain, and so Kyle gave in, letting it take him.
When he woke, Kyle had the distinct feeling he was not alone. Struggling with disorientation, he tried to sit up and then thought better of it, instead turning his head to the side.
Jared sat slumped in a chair, arms crossed over his wide chest, longs legs straight out, eyes narrowed into slits, his mouth in a grim line. Shocked, Kyle stared at him, not quite believing Jared was there, yet feeling a profound sense of relief at the sight of him. He attempted a smile but wasn't sure if he'd succeeded, especially when Jared didn't smile back.
At a loss, he waited, unsure what to say, unsure if he could even start to say something that could repair what he'd done. Jared stared back, silent; however, his gold-flecked eyes spoke volumes, and Kyle was fully aware of what Jared was thinking. And what he was thi
nking didn't give Kyle any sense of hope. Slowly, though, Jared's mouth softened, and the glittering in his eyes softened with it, though by no means was he anywhere close to cracking a smile. He hauled himself out of the chair, arms now hanging loosely at his sides. He wore a soft pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that Kyle thought might have originally given Jared that menacing look, but the way Jared advanced toward him, Kyle decided the menace was all in Jared's body language.
Kyle tensed, ready for the explosion, waiting for the questions he didn't want to answer, couldn't answer if he was to save any pride, but maybe pride was overrated. However, when Jared stood over him, placing one hand on the bed and leaning closer, the accusations Kyle expected didn't come.
"How are you?" Jared's voice was edged with a hint of anger, but it was obvious he was trying to suppress it.
"Um, fine, I guess." Kyle's throat was tight, and his words came out dry and croaky. He tried to swallow and found he couldn't.
Jared made an impatient sound and handed him a glass with a straw dipped inside, and Kyle thankfully sucked some fluid into his mouth. He tried swallowing again and half moaned in pleasure as the cool liquid slid down his throat. Jared frowned and, after allowing him another sip, laid the glass back down on the trolley at the side of the bed.
Kyle suddenly remembered someone giving him water before, remembered also the attention he'd received from a variety of nurses and doctors, but they all seemed like a blurred dream or a memory long forgotten. He blinked, clearing some of the confusion in his head. "How long have I been here?"
Jared frowned again. "Don't you remember?"
"Not everything." But he didn't want to remember everything, especially the haunted look in Jared's eyes as he'd knelt over him in the middle of the road.
"You've been here two days. You had a severe concussion, but you've been sleeping a lot, which has helped."
"Concussion?" Well, that kind of made sense. It certainly explained the fuzzy feeling in his head.
Jared nodded. "Yeah, and your ankle was broken. They put a cast on it. You should be able to put some weight on it in a few days."
Surprised, Kyle blinked. "You've been talking to the doctors?"
"I wanted to know."
"Why?"
Jared's eyes narrowed again, though less in anger this time and more in speculation. "Because I care."
Jared cared? After what Kyle had done to him? "Did they say when I can leave?"
"The nurse said you can go home tomorrow."
Home? Fresh pain ran through Kyle. He had no fucking home, and he never would. Not with Jared, anyway. "I don't have a home." A simple statement, but laced with so much controversy Kyle was a little shocked he'd managed to say it aloud.
"I know. You told me." Jared's voice was still laced with anger, but then he sighed and before Kyle realized what he was doing, he leaned in and slid his mouth over Kyle's. Stunned, Kyle stretched up to bring their mouths closer, to strengthen the contact, but Jared pulled back.
"Hungry?" he asked.
Kyle shook his head and then wished he hadn't when a wave of nausea and another round of dizziness hit him, but then he wasn't sure if the dizziness was because of Jared's kiss. "No, just thirsty."
Jared reached for the glass and brought it to Kyle's lips. Kyle took a grateful sip, letting go when he'd had enough. His lips tingled from Jared's kiss, and his mind reeled. Had Jared forgiven him? Even after what he'd done? But how could he? How could any man forgive another for walking away with no word of explanation?
"Better?"
No, he wasn't fucking better. Self-loathing burned in the pit of his stomach, and the nausea he'd felt a few minutes ago threatened to erupt. He stared up at Jared, afraid to say something, afraid that whatever he said wouldn't be good enough.
The edge of Jared's mouth twisted down as though he were holding back a comment. "You look tired. Why don't you go to sleep?"
"I'm fine," Kyle lied, petrified of closing his eyes, because when he opened them again, Jared might be gone.
Jared must have seen something on Kyle's face, because he sighed. "Go to sleep, Kyle. I'll still be here when you wake up."
Kyle wanted to believe him, desperately needed to. He watched Jared's eyes, looking for any sign of a lie, any sign that Jared regretted being here right now. He didn't see it. "Promise?" he asked, the word coming out as a flaky rasp that had nothing to do with the dryness of his throat.
Jared gave a short nod. "Promise," he said. There was that softening in his eyes again, though it was at odds with the thin line of his lips. Kyle stared at him for a while longer; then when he couldn't ignore the exhaustion that had his body begging him to give in, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him, trusting Jared to keep his promise.
But when he opened his eyes after something roused him, Jared was nowhere to be seen.
A man in a white coat, who Kyle presumed was a doctor, stood at the bottom of the bed, clipboard in hand. Kyle looked around the rest of the room, empty, even the second bed across from his was empty, and he was sure he half remembered seeing someone in it before.
Where was Jared?
"How are you?" the doctor asked, coming around to the side of the bed.
"Fine," Kyle lied.
"No headaches, dizziness?"
"No." Another lie, but Kyle wasn't about to jeopardize his chances of getting out of here by admitting the truth, no matter how stupid.
"Pain bearable?"
"Yes."
Where was Jared?
"Hungry?"
Wasn't hunger supposed to be a good thing? It indicated he was getting better, right? "Starving."
"Been to the toilet?"
Kyle rolled his eyes, avoiding the steady gaze of the doctor. The man looked to be in his eighties, old, wise, shrewd. "Yes," he answered, but that wasn't a lie. He suddenly remembered an embarrassing moment when a nurse had helped him to the bathroom. Where had Jared been then? Where was he now?
The doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pen, but at a click a sharp beam of light shone from the end. He moved closer and aimed the light at Kyle's eyes, one at a time. Kyle tried not to flinch, but the damn light hurt.
"You remember the accident?" The doctor's question had Kyle frowning.
"Yes, why?"
"Any other loss of memory?"
"No, not really, just the time in here, it's been a bit fuzzy, but I think that has a lot to do with the pain medication." Kyle lifted his left arm to indicate the drip that was stuck in it.
"The nurse will come and remove it. You don't need it anymore." The doctor gave a ghost of a smile, then patted his arm. "Don't worry; you'll be fine. Keep off the ankle for as long as you can."
"I can go?" Kyle asked, relieved yet anxious. Where was Jared?
"Yes. I'll sign your release form. Get a good night's rest, though." The doctor turned and ambled out of the room. Kyle watched him go. Where the fuck was Jared?
Panic set in, which Kyle tried to fight. Jared hadn't gone. He wouldn't have walked off on him, not after making a promise. Would he? Kyle's heart sank, and tears stung the back of his eyes as the truth hit him. Jared wasn't coming back, and Kyle knew he'd been a damn fool to think he would. He flopped back down on the pillow and closed his eyes, hating the feeling of abandonment that ripped through him. But this was his fault. He deserved this. He deserved it because Jared hadn't deserved Kyle walking out on him. Yet when he heard a small sound at the door, Kyle quickly sat up, holding his breath in expectation, releasing it in a rush of disappointment as a nurse walked through wheeling a trolley. She smiled brightly at him, but Kyle didn't return her smile because it wasn't the one he'd wanted to see.
"Going to remove that needle from your arm," she announced, coming to his side.
Kyle held out his arm dispassionately, not even bothering to watch as the nurse carefully removed the needle and swabbed his arm, putting on a little pressure and then a
small plaster that seemed incongruous considering how he was wrapped up chest to toe with bandages.
"There you go, all better."
Yeah, right. He'd be better when he got out of here and as far away from the memory of Jared as possible. Fuck, it hurt knowing Jared didn't want him, had never wanted him, or at least not enough to ignore the objections living together in a small town would provoke. But the thing was, Kyle didn't blame him, because his own fears were anchored within the same sphere of small-minded bigotry and the hurt, pain, and rejection that bigotry induced.
Another sound at the door had him looking up but without interest, without hope, until he saw Jared looming in the doorway, shoulders hunched, fists clenched around two bags, and a dark frown on his face made worse by eyes that glittered with fresh anger.
"You're awake." Jared's statement sounded both accusatory and apologetic. Kyle nodded, unsure what to say as relief and delight that Jared was here made a mockery of his sentiments of only a few moments ago.
"I bought you some clothes and toiletries." Jared indicated the bags he held, then strode over to the chair he'd been sitting in earlier and dropped the bags on it.
Kyle's gaze followed him, not quite believing Jared had come back and wondering at his own lack of faith. Jared had promised, and Kyle should have trusted him.
"Why?" he asked, thankful his voice was clear and not the half-whispered dryness of earlier.
Turning to face him, Jared's face was impassive. "Because you need them. Most of your stuff was ruined."
"Ruined?" Fuck, his laptop! He hadn't thought of that until now. "Where's my bag?" Kyle glanced around the room, searching for his black duffel.
"I sent it home."
"You what?" Kyle glanced into Jared's face. There was a light flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there before.
"You told me your work was on your computer, so I got my sister to have a look at it. She's good with computers. She assured me its fine, though the casing was a little cracked."
"Cracked. What happened to it?"
Bringing Him Home Page 7
