Riv ran his hand up and down Ducks’ arm, guilt biting deep. “No, I’m sorry. I put that badly.” Badly was an understatement. He’d wanted Ducks to meet Del, not to imply that he wasn’t working his ass off to get better.
It’s okay, really. I want to go to the beach anyway. His grin was anything but innocent. After you meet with Dr. Terrell. Behind closed doors.
“Fuck.” Riv groaned. “I don’t really have to meet with him, do I? The man makes me nervous.”
Ducks shrugged and laughed. Don’t let him pinch your ass too hard. You won’t be able to sit on the tram.
“Ha, ha,” Riv said balefully. “Aren’t you the comedian? I’m more worried about him…” he waved a hand uncertainly, “…you know, picking at my brain or something.”
Don’t think he’s going to autopsy your brain. Someone might notice.
Psychiatrists made him nervous. He hunched his shoulders. “Not physically. But he might ask me lots of questions.”
The eye-rolling was more dramatic than it needed to be. And maybe he’ll ask questions about ME.
Since I’m the patient. And it’s not always about you.
Riv did his best to feign shock, screwing his face up a little. “Are you sure? Because I was pretty certain that most things were about me.”
I know. It was amazing how droll someone could look, and how well it conveyed without sound. Still, the sarcasm faded to mere amusement, and Riv let the tension that had flooded their conversation slip away.
They lingered outside, neither acknowledging that the day was going to end whether they wanted it to or not, until finally an orderly popped into the courtyard with a cigarette and invaded the privacy they’d been pretending to have.
“So after I see the good doctor tomorrow, maybe I could help you slather on some sunscreen and take you to the beach,” Riv suggested.
Ducks nodded, reaching out with a sureness that pleased Riv to no end and pulling him in for a good-night kiss. The orderly snickered but took himself off somewhere, and when Riv said good night he was still dizzy, all the way to the tips of his toes.
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Chapter Six
His mum was doubtless in her element, the old house filled with people and noise. It had been a vacation home in its prime, well before they had moved into it, and Riv could still remember shivering through some winters before the house had been remodeled for cold weather. But it was huge and rambling and three blocks away from the beach. The perfect childhood home.
It was obviously the perfect home for his mother to this day. She ran a teashop out of the converted living room, and the entire second floor, all eight rooms, had been turned into guest lodging, most of it now occupied by the Mel’s crew.
“About time you got here.” Bin, looking ridiculously large in a tiny wicker chair parked on the porch, waved at him. “Your ma’s in an uproar, thinking you weren’t coming at all.”
“Shit. I guess I wouldn’t be lucky enough that she’s gone to bed?” There wasn’t much hope in the question.
Bin snickered. “Not a chance. She and Del and Marc are in the kitchen. Talking about you, probably.
Were when I left anyway.”
That just didn’t bode well. “Should I ask what they were saying?”
“Your ma was mostly huffing about how you finally came home for a visit, and chose to go see someone else first. Marc was egging her on in that way he has. Where it seems like he’s helping but he ain’t?”
“Yeah, I know that.” Riv sighed. “Might as well go take my lumps, I guess.”
“Send Del out when you’re done, will you?” Bin shook his head, laughing. “I know there’s not a chance of her leaving before you’ve had your ass chewed.”
“Gee, thanks for the support, Cap’n.”
Bin smiled complacently. “Not a problem.”
Riv pulled open the screen door and made his way towards the kitchen, avoiding all the squeaky boards by memory. He could see his mum, sitting with her back turned to the doorway, and Marc and Del ranged around the table. They were all sipping from the paper-thin porcelain cups his mother kept for her friends, and Marc had a lemon wafer halfway to his mouth.
“Oh, he’s always been like that. Even when he was a little boy, it was all I could do to keep pants on him.”
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“Some habits die hard,” Riv said, loud enough for her to hear. When she turned in her chair he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
“Hello, Mum. Sorry I couldn’t make it right away.”
“How’s your friend?” she asked, as though five minutes earlier she hadn’t been bemoaning his absence.
“He’s well. I think he might join us at the beach tomorrow, if he feels up to it. How are you doing?
Marc isn’t being too big a pain in the ass, is he?”
Marc protested his character assassination with an unhappy grunt and a wave of his hand, but Riv smirked at him and stole the last cookie as he sat down.
“That’s wonderful. And maybe your friend can tell me all about my son’s heroic rescue mission, since he seems reluctant to tell me himself.” Her smile took some, but certainly not all of the bite out of the words.
Riv rolled his eyes. “Who’s been filling your head with stories? It was hardly heroic.” Del was most definitely avoiding his gaze, staring innocently at the table, and it was Marc’s turn to smirk at him. “You really shouldn’t believe everything these people tell you, Ma,” he said darkly. “They have some issues with reliability and truthfulness.”
“So we’re all going to get a chance to meet Pryce.” Del’s voice was just a bit too enthusiastic. “I wasn’t sure we’d get to. The beach is gorgeous. It’ll do him good to spend some time there.”
Marc looked significantly less enthusiastic, but whether that was due to a lack of interest in meeting Ducks or due to the sunburn he seemed to have acquired during the day, skin a pulsing bright red, it was hard to tell. Del kicked him under the table, hard enough that he jerked in his chair, and he turned a scowl on her, at direct odds with the forced cheerfulness in his voice. “Yeah, that’ll be great.”
“Ma, how private is Elsing Cove? Is it still mostly hike-in access? Ducks doesn’t do too well with crowds, so I’d rather avoid the main beach.” Riv reached across and pressed a finger against Marc’s otherwise pale skin, watching as the redness flooded back.
“Ouch,” Marc exclaimed, swatting his hand away. “Quit it, ass…quit it.” He cut off the slur with a guilty glance at Riv’s mother, but as she had done when he was a child, she was firmly ignoring the lapse of language.
“Elsing Cove? I suppose it’s still quiet. A lot of the boys who stay upstairs seem to hear about it, but you know how it goes on for miles.” She began to gather up the cups and saucers, and Riv inwardly rolled his eyes at the subtle point made by the lack of any refreshments for him.
“I thought you all might like it too. It’s really beautiful, and the sand goes out on a nice shallow shelf for about fifty or sixty yards before it finally drops off. Makes the water really warm,” he said to Del and Marc.
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Del nodded, but Marc shrugged and winced. “I might have to pass. Not sure I can do another day in the sun.”
“Wuss.” Riv snickered, earning a frown from his mother.
“Just because you’ve never burned, you needn’t be unkind,” she said reprovingly. “And I’ve got some lotion, dear.” She crooked a finger at Marc. “Come with me, by tomorrow you’ll never even remember you got sunburned at all. Riv can finish cleaning up. I’m sure he won’t mind.” The quelling tone left no room for argument.
Del barely waited for them to clear the room before she was on her feet. “Well?” she demanded.
“Well what?” Riv turned on the faucet to fill the sink, keeping his back to her to hide the grin.
“What h
appened?”
If her voice rose any higher, dogs would be howling across Karibee. Relenting, he turned around, hands covered in soap suds, grin so wide it almost hurt. “It was great.”
She dropped back in her chair with a thump and a happy sigh. “Oh Riv, that’s fucking stupendous.
Soooo…” She grinned. “Was there fucking?”
“A gentleman never tells, you know that.”
The sigh somehow managed to convey annoyance and pity all in the same exhalation. “You didn’t get any. But did you at least tell him how you feel, find out how he feels?”
Riv gave up on the dishes, and wiping his hands on his pants, used a foot to pull out the chair next to her. “Yeah, I think so. He…well, he’s not averse.”
“Averse?” Del laughed, rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t exactly sound positive.”
“No, it is. I didn’t think he’d be interested and he is. That’s a positive.”
“Then we need to find you a better list of descriptive words, because from that, I picture him just sighing and thinking of the queen.” She giggled, sounding much younger than her years. “And I can’t imagine you bedding anyone who wasn’t…enthusiastic.”
“Thanks?”
“Any time.”
Riv fidgeted a little in the chair, not sure how to bring up the next bit. “I’d really like for you to meet him.”
“Well of course. Don’t think you were getting away with not letting me see him.”
“I think…well, I hope anyway, that maybe you can help him. He’s not having a lot of luck at the clinic and I think it’s starting to frustrate him.”
Obviously puzzled, she leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Help him how? I mean, they’re trained there for these kinds of things. My training’s all in triage.”
This was where it stood to get tricky. Del’s comfort level when it came to her own talent was only slightly higher than her tolerance of Denny’s, and she was always quick to dismiss each and every
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occurrence as mere luck or timing. Riv figured that somewhere in the Empire there was a lab full of scientists who had a name for Del’s particular form of empathy, but it wasn’t likely she’d ever be seeking them out. If she wasn’t going to admit its existence to herself, she sure the hell wasn’t going to talk about her ability with strangers. Especially strangers who could establish the fact that it actually existed.
“I was kind of hoping that you could do your thing. I know you don’t like making a big deal about it, but you’ve got to admit, you’ve got a way with the sick.” It was as plain as he dared make it, and even so, her glare was fierce.
“I hate that. I’m not some miracle cure, you know. And anyway, he sounds messed in the head, not sick.”
“That’s kind of the case.” For all that it was the truth, it still felt like a betrayal to actually say it.
“There’s nothing physically wrong that the doctors can find. It’s why he’s in this particular hospital.”
Del sat back far enough so that she could meet his eyes. “Is he crazy?” she asked bluntly. “Because I honestly can’t imagine what you think I can do about crazy.”
Again Riv was left with carefully weighing his words. “Do you remember that little girl on Kefvak?”
He waited for her to nod before continuing. “She wasn’t crazy, was she?”
She shook her head, gnawing on her lower lip, and Riv watched dawning realization. “It just looked like she was. But she wasn’t crazy, she was traumatized.”
“And I think that’s Ducks. I guess I was kind of hoping you could talk to him like you did her.
Maybe…well, maybe pull some of that pain away from him, help him with his trauma.”
“I guess I could talk to him. But that’s all I’ll promise, okay?”
He patted her on the shoulder awkwardly, not wanting his own eagerness to make her uncomfortable.
“Okay. And I don’t want you to meet him because of what you might be able to do, I want you to meet him because you’re my family, and he’s…” He shrugged, the traces of elation left to him squeezing his chest as he tried to find the right words. “He’s important.”
Apparently they were the right words. Del visibly softened, posture less stiff as she allowed a small smile. “I want to meet him. And yeah, because he’s important to you. And besides, who wouldn’t want to meet the recipient of your heroic rescue efforts?” She laughed and ducked his smack. “You seem pretty attached to him, and that’s enough for me. But…” And here the tight worry he’d seen so often in her face during the early days of their acquaintance was back. “Don’t…don’t expect some medical phenomenon to happen, okay? I don’t want to disappoint you.”
She seemed to be as surprised to be on the receiving end of his hug as he was to be giving it. “You’re not going to disappoint me. Idiot.” Nothing but fondness in the word.
Del squeezed him tightly, resting her head against his shoulder for a second. “If you’re sure.” Her voice was muffled and uncertain.
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“Yeah, I’m sure. Now go see Bin before he comes after my ass. He’s been waiting for you on the porch.”
It was both comforting and oddly disconcerting to be back in the bed of his childhood. Nothing had changed in his room…the shell collection on his dresser, his artwork on the walls. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that Mum had done it out of sentimentality, though. The house was huge and the room unneeded. Easier to just leave it the way it was.
Riv stretched, grimacing as his feet thumped the end of the bed. He wouldn’t be bringing Ducks back here, that was for sure. And not that Mum would have a problem with him taking Ducks and moving to an unoccupied room, but that would make things a little more obvious than he’d prefer. And more importantly, would open him to all kinds of tormenting from the crew.
Despite cramped legs, sleep came quickly, and the dream even quicker. The heavy, oppressive heat of Maltana surrounded him like a blanket, and he twisted restlessly under the thin sheet on the bed. The piano music sounded like it was coming from underwater, the Karibee anthem, muffled and distant. It was Ducks playing, he could picture the steady fingers on the keys even if he couldn’t see them. The voice was totally unexpected though, deep and melodious and unfamiliar.
He needed to get inside the bar, through the crowds in the street, to see who was singing. He knew, of course, but he needed to see Ducks to prove it to himself. Del waved at him through the front window of the bar, the glass shattered out, telling him to hurry, that there wasn’t much time, and he fought harder against the crush of people around him, some of them waving guns, some carrying bloodied sticks and bats.
Jerking awake with a gasp, Riv sat straight up in bed, shoving the sweaty sheet away from his body.
The sudden pounding on his door caused him to jump again.
“Riv, get your lazy ass out of bed.” Del’s annoyed voice made him think this wasn’t the first time she’d made the request, and his thoughts flipped back to his dream. “Don’t make me come in there after you. Hurry up, you’ve already missed breakfast.”
He groaned and swung his legs out of bed, resting there with his arms propped on his knees and his head in his hands for long enough that Del’s voice changed from impatient to worried.
“Riv? Are you okay?”
“M’fine, just slept like crap. I’ll be down in ten minutes.” He stood, stumbled the few steps to the bathroom his room shared with the one next door, and was pleased to find that Marc’s hair gel on the edge of the sink was the only trace of his presence. It wasn’t that he felt the need to avoid Marc. It wasn’t even that he really believed his friend was as jealous as he was acting since Ducks had come into the picture.
Marc did a damn good impression of it though. He just tried to disguise it as siding with Del
, nagging Riv over his unfortunate ability to fall for men who ultimately didn’t want him.
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The shower was hot, hot enough that he was going to regret it later, but he let the water beat down on his head anyway. Nightmares had a way of staying with him, they always had, and the only real way he’d ever found to get rid of them was to lose himself in some mindless tangle of machinery. Now though, as he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the shower, the only things that filled his head were the broken images in his dreams, and disconcertingly, flashes of Pryce.
Naked, spread out on the bed below him, panting, and when the same voice from his dream moaned his name, Riv’s hand curled around his cock and squeezed hard. The eroticism of the vision was more intense than any fantasy he’d ever spun, probably because he’d never bothered with the fine details before.
But he could feel the heat rising from Ducks’ skin, could smell him, was damn close to being able to taste him.
Obviously he hadn’t realized just how much he wanted Ducks, just how strong that desire—lust, his mind supplied helpfully—was, because his hand was moving rapidly, and not since he was an adolescent and doing the exact same thing in the exact same shower had he come that fast and that hard. It would have been embarrassing if there were anyone else there to see.
Knees somewhat shaky, Riv shoved himself away from the wall with one hand and reached for the soap with the other. “Shit,” he breathed softly. Maybe he should listen to Marc, pretend to believe in the jealous fussing, because if this was any sign, he was addicted to Ducks. And if things didn’t work out, he was in for a particularly nasty fall. Scrubbing the soap across his belly, he couldn’t hold back a shudder as he brushed overly sensitive skin, and he gave himself a minute to recover, letting the water pour down over him.
He forced himself out of the shower and found a pair of cutoffs in his bag, pulling a loose button-down shirt on over them and leaving it open. There was no helping his hair, so he ran a hand through it and left it, clattering down the stairs with his worn-out pair of sandals clutched in one hand and his towel over his shoulder.
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