by Andria Large
Christian’s mouth worked but nothing came out.
“You do not have to worry, I will not say anything, it is your secret to tell,” she said softly then stood and headed for the door.
“Margot!” he called after her.
Margot turned with her hand on the doorknob. She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.
“How?” Christian sputtered.
“That is my secret,” she said with a wink before leaving him alone in the bathroom.
Holy fucking shit! Someone knew! This meant that other people could know, too! What if Margot couldn’t keep it a secret and told Quinn? Oh god! Christian scrambled to the toilet just in time.
Quinn got undressed and crawled onto the bed. He had gotten rid of his studio apartment and moved into Margot’s condo. He sat against the headboard and watched her flit around the room, as she got ready for bed. She was humming to herself as she took out her earrings and placed them in her jewelry box.
“What did Christian say when you went to talk to him?” he asked. The question has been bugging him the whole night.
Christian had run off to the bathroom after Sebastian’s “You’re next” comment, then made a couple of repeat trips to the bathroom before saying that he didn’t feel well and left. The last time he had seen Christian’s anxiety that bad was a couple of years ago when Henry was in the plane crash.
Margot glanced over her shoulder at him. “Nothing really. I just asked if he was okay. He did not really say much,” she replied, lifting one delicate shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.
Quinn narrowed his eyes at her. She wasn’t telling him everything. He knew her too well and noticed that she blinked a bit too much when she answered. That was her tell when she was lying, blinking rapidly.
“Why are you lying to me?” He sighed.
She turned to stare at him with her large innocent hazel eyes. “I am not lying,” she replied and blinked a million times.
“Sweetheart, you are the worst liar ever, you might as well cough it up. What did Christian say?”
Margot shook her head and rolled her lips in. She had a secret and she wasn’t going to tell. Damn! He knew better than anyone did that when Margot had a secret that she wasn’t supposed to share, there was nothing that would make her budge. Stubborn woman! What could Christian be hiding? Quinn knew that there was always something bugging his little brother, but he would never share. Margot must have gotten it out of him somehow, or maybe she just figured it out. She was extremely smart, very perceptive, and persistent; she might have annoyed his brother to the point that he just blurted it out. Quinn smiled to himself. God, he loved her.
“Is there anything I can do to make you tell me?” Quinn asked, dropping his voice to the husky growl that he knew turned her on.
Margot’s eyes immediately darkened with desire. “Non.” She breathed as she crawled up onto the bed toward him. “But I think there is something I can do to make you stop asking.”
Oh fuck yes! “Oh yeah?” he growled, as he watched her crawl over his lap. He was already hard from the anticipation.
She settled herself between his legs and leaned down to kiss him through his underwear. His breath caught then hissed when her mouth closed over the head of his cock. The barrier of his boxer/briefs seemed to make her mouth hotter than normal. He groaned and arched under her. She loved to torture him that was for sure.
“Are you going to stop asking?” she murmured.
“I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t stop what you’re doing.” He panted, feeling her smile against him.
“Good boy.” She purred.
Quinn couldn’t help but smile. Margot was the devil in disguise.
Shea was up on the roof of the house he was working on putting in a damn sky light above the island counter in the kitchen. The couple that hired Platt and Sons - the construction company that he worked for - were picky as hell, and were really starting to get on his nerves. They have a deadline of a month for Shea - who was the foreman on the job - and his guys, to gut and renovate the entire kitchen, which was not enough time. Then on top of that, they kept changing and adding shit.
Usually he could kind of hang back and supervise, but not with this job. They needed everyone on their six-man team to be working. That was why he was on the roof installing a skylight. Shea was sweating bullets; it was only April, and wasn’t super hot out, but the sun was high and there was not a cloud in the sky, so he was roasting. He had stripped off his shirt a while ago to try to cool off some, but it wasn’t really helping.
Shea straightened up to stretch his back out because it was bothering him from being hunched over when, all of a sudden, he somehow lost his footing on the slanted roof and started tumbling. He could not find anything to stop himself and his last thought before he went off the edge of the roof was that he hoped he didn’t land on his head. He had no desire to be a vegetable.
The sensation of falling made Shea want to puke. He was falling somewhat sideways, and he didn’t have enough time to correct it because it was only a one-story drop, and the ground came up too fast. Shea hit the grass, landing partially on his right side. He heard and felt his collarbone snap as all of the air knocked out of his lungs. His head smacked the ground hard, leaving him dizzy and confused. He could hear shouting but he didn’t know where it was coming from or what was being said.
“Shea! Yo, Dempsey, are you hurt?” came Connor’s voice from somewhere above him. Connor was one of the guys working under him.
Shea tried to blink past the fog and focus on the face that was hovering over his, but he just couldn’t. The pain in his shoulder was slowly getting worse and he was really freaking tired.
Shea gasped and cried out in pain when he felt his body being moved. His eyes flew open and glanced around to see that he was now strapped down on a stretcher with a neck brace, while being put into the back of an ambulance. What the fuck happened? He looked around to see his guys all standing around watching, looking concerned. A paramedic hopped into the back of the ambulance and shut the door. He was a young guy with shaggy brown hair. He gave Shea a reassuring smile as he sat down on the bench next to him.
“Hey, buddy, how we doing?” Shaggy cut asked.
“Pain,” was all Shea could get out, because for real, the pain was unbearable.
“I know man, I’m gonna get you something to ease the pain. My name is Will, by the way.”
“Shea.”
“Shea, yeah, I know, your friends told me.”
Will moved about the back of the ambulance as it started on its merry way, lights and sirens blaring. Shea was ready to pass the fuck out or throw up from the pain. He couldn’t even get out anything other than weird whimpering noises to tell Will to move his ass and get him some drugs. Will finally got his arm prepped and slid the needle home, injecting something into Shea’s arm that sent him flying high.
Shea’s head lolled to the side, luckily in Will’s direction, because he was not going to be able to move it from where it landed. “I love you,” he slurred.
Will chuckled and patted Shea’s thigh. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Shea sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He could hear Will moving about, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything at the moment. A blanket draped over him covering him up to his chin, which was good because the pain medication and the saline were making him cold. Once they arrived at the emergency room, Will handed him over to the doctor and nurses with a report on his condition. Shea tried to answer their questions as best as he could, but between the medication and the possible concussion, who knows what the hell came out of his mouth.
Christian was in the middle of washing paintbrushes when his cell phone rang. He groaned and quickly rinsed his hands and dried them with a paper towel. He was hoping it was Shea because he hadn’t spoken to him since last night and he missed him. He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket and looked at the number; a bolt of disappointment hit him, as
he didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” he answered, deciding to see who it was.
“Hi, is this Christian Beck?” the friendly female voice said on the other end.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Beck, my name is Darlene, and I’m a nurse at Abington Hospital. I’m calling you because a Mr. Shea Dempsey has been brought to the emergency room and according to him, you are his emergency contact,” Darlene said.
Christian’s heart leapt up into his throat. “Yes, I am. Is he okay?”
“He is in stable condition, so yes, he is doing okay.”
“What happened? Did he get hurt at work?” Christian asked, dreading the answer. Those were some of his worst nightmares; the ones where Shea gets his arm or leg cut off with a saw or something.
“Yes, Mr. Beck, he did. He fell off a roof and broke his clavicle, and he has a mild concussion. Is it possible for you to come to the hospital? We need to release him into someone’s care because of the concussion. He will need to be supervised for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Christ!” Christian breathed. “Okay, no problem. I will be there in about an hour.”
“Great, just come to the emergency room and tell the nurse at the desk who you are there for,” Darlene said.
“Okay, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They said goodbye then Christian hung up. He fought off the panic that threatened to consume him. He needed to get to Shea, and he didn’t have time to be stuck in the bathroom throwing up. He just kept telling himself that Shea was okay. He was most likely resting comfortably on drugs and annoying the nurses. Luckily, Christian had already closed up shop and there was no one to kick out of the studio. He would finish washing the brushes another time; for now, he would just set them in water and get the hell out of there.
He was on the highway ten minutes later. Part of the ride was highway while the second half was back roads. He was most impatient on the back roads because they were mostly one lane and he kept getting stuck behind the one person who was in no rush to get anywhere. Some of the curses that came out of his mouth were so nasty that Christian was shocked that he even said them out loud. He made it in just about an hour like he said. He parked in the first spot he could find then quickly made his way to the emergency room doors. He gave the nurse at the desk Shea’s name and was told to wait; fifteen minutes later another nurse came into the waiting room and called for him.
Christian followed the nurse back into the triage bay and tried not to look at the people who were broken, bleeding, or sick in the beds they passed. The nurse stopped and pulled back a curtain to reveal Shea. Christian thanked her and she told him that she would be back in a minute with discharge papers before she walked away.
He looked at Shea, who seemed to be asleep on the small bed. He was shirtless with his right arm in a sling and a swathe that wrapped around both his torso and arm to hold his arm in place. Christian swallowed back the urge to gag; it just turned his stomach that Shea had been hurt. He fell off a freaking roof for Christ’s sake! He could have landed on his head or broken his neck or his back. God, this could have been so much worse.
Christian stepped up to the left side of the bed and touched Shea’s arm. He started then grunted in pain and shifted slightly on the bed. He dragged his eyes open and looked up at Christian. A lazy, definitely drugged up, smile lifted his lips.
“Hey, buuuddy,” Shea said, sounding a lot like Pauly Shore at the moment.
“Hey, Shea, how you doing?” Christian asked, smoothing his hand over Shea’s shortly cropped hair.
“Mmm, better now that you’re here, lover,” he murmured, reaching out with his left hand to pat Christian’s stomach. After only two pats, his hand fell away as if it was just too heavy for him to hold up.
Christian smiled slightly. “As soon as the nurse gets back with your discharge papers, we’ll get out of here.”
“Sweet, can we stop and get ice cream on the way home?”
“Ice cream?” Christian repeated, raising an eyebrow in question.
“I got a boo-boo so I think I deserve some ice cream, dammit,” he said seriously.
Christian choked back a laugh at Shea’s obviously medicated state and smoothed his hand over his hair again. “We’ll stop at Wendy’s and get you a Frosty. Does that sound good?”
“Can I have a chocolate one?” Shea asked, eyeing Christian suspiciously.
“You sure can,” Christian said, feeling like he was talking to Ethan instead of Shea.
Shea nodded, but he was still looking up at him as if he wasn’t sure if Christian was telling the truth or not. The nurse showed up a few minutes later with Shea’s discharge papers and a list of instructions for his care. Christian kept a firm hold of Shea’s left arm as they walked out to the car. He was still a bit loopy and Christian was terrified that he was going to bump into something and hurt himself even more.
Shea fell asleep almost as soon as Christian pulled out of the parking lot. Christian pulled into his driveway an hour later. He got out, went around to the passenger side, and opened the door. Shea was still out cold.
“Shea? Hey, bud, wake up,” Christian said, patting his thigh.
Shea dragged his eyes open, blinking a few times before looking up at Christian. “Did you get my ice cream?” was the first this he asked.
“Not yet,” Christian murmured and helped him get out of the car.
“Fucker, I want my Frosty.” Shea grunted as he straightened up.
“Relax, I’ll get you your Frosty, don’t worry,” Christian soothed.
“I think you’re a mothafuckin’ liar, Christian Beck,” he muttered as he started for the front door.
Christian sighed and rolled his eyes. Shea was not a pleasant person when he was on pain medication…actually, he was a massive pain in the ass. The last time he was on pain meds was a few years ago when he threw his back out. Christian found him laid out, flat on his back, on the floor in his living room because he was unable to get up. Apparently, he bent over to pick up a magazine off his coffee table and when he straightened back up, out went his back. It was spasming so hard that he was having trouble pulling in a deep breath, and Christian had to call an ambulance. He also took care of him then for about a week, and he was a vicious asshole because of the pain medication. Christian had sworn that he’d never do that again, but really, what choice did he have? Shea had no family to take care of him. Plus, now he was his boyfriend. There was definitely some obligation there.
“Open the damn door!” Shea shouted and kicked the front door.
“Hey! Knock that shit off before you hurt yourself even more!” Christian snapped and rushed over to unlock the front door.
“Fuck off,” Shea muttered in return as he brushed past Christian to walk into the house.
Gritting his teeth, Christian followed, shutting the door behind him. He tossed his keys on the table next to the door and went to find out where Shea went. He found him in the kitchen trying to open a bottle of beer with his teeth.
“Dammit, Shea, you can’t have that!” Christian growled in irritation as he snatched the bottle out of his hand and put it back in the fridge.
Shea mumbled a string of curses as he shuffled out of the kitchen and into the living room. Christian’s house wasn’t overly big; it was a small three bedroom single family home with a two-car garage that he used as his personal painting studio and for storage. He had gotten the place cheap about six years ago because it needed a lot of work. Shea had helped with that.
Christian followed Shea out into the living room, where Shea carefully sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. After turning on the fifty-two inch flat screen TV that hung on the wall above the fireplace, he settled back into the couch, wincing a few times as he shifted to get comfortable.
Within minutes, he passed out again, his chin resting on his chest. Christian shook his head, went back into the kitchen, and picked up his cordless phone from where it sat on
the counter. He punched in Quinn’s number and waited.
“Hello?” Quinn answered, his familiar low gravelly tone easing some of Christian’s angst.
“Hey, Quinn,” he replied with a sigh.
“Feeling any better since last night?” Quinn asked.
Christian had left his parents’ house early last night after have a gigantic panic attack that he just couldn’t get under control. After throwing up twice and then dry heaving, he just had to get out of there.
“I was until I had to go pick up Shea from Abington Hospital,” he replied.
“What happened? Is he alright?” Quinn asked in concern.
“Yeah, he fell off a roof and broke his collar bone.”
“Aw hell, I’m guessing he’s on pain medication then?”
Christian just grunted. All of his brothers knew how Shea acted on pain meds. They have known Shea so long that he was considered part of the family, another brother even. Christian couldn’t imagine what his brothers will think once they found out that the two of them were together. Would they be disgusted? Disappointed?
“That sucks,” Quinn said sympathetically.
“Yeah, it does, but I was calling to ask you a favor. Could you possibly run to Wendy’s and get Shea a chocolate Frosty? He won’t stop bugging me about it and I don’t want to leave him here alone,” Christian said.
Quinn chuckled. “A chocolate Frosty?”
“For his boo-boo he said.” Christian snorted.
Quinn barked out a laugh. “I am so telling Sebastian about that.”
Christian chuckled. “Yeah, go right ahead, maybe Sebastian can come up with some witty retorts for Shea’s off the wall comments.”
“Oh man...yeah, I’ll get the Frosty. See you in about twenty minutes.” Quinn laughed then said goodbye before hanging up. In twenty minutes, Christian was sure that all three of his brothers were going to be at his house.
Shea awoke to something cold pressed against his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and he couldn’t stop the groan that came out. Standing around him were Christian’s brothers, each one of them with a shit-eatin’ grin on his face.
