Sam had no idea what time it was or what day it was. He nodded dumbly. The doctor still hadn’t answered his question.
“Nathan. Is he… is he all right?”
The doc proceeded to inject a needle full of something into the IV tube running into Sam’s right arm. “He’s out in the hall. I’ll send him in, and I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours. Try to get some sleep, if you can. This will help.”
The doctor’s shoes squeaked on the linoleum as he left. Sam’s bandaged arm ached, but the drugs were quick acting. He was already pleasantly fuzzy when Nathan entered the room, still wearing the same clothes from the night before. With his messy hair, his beard, and the dirt smudges on his shirt and jeans, he looked wild. Sam had never seen a more perfect sight.
“Sam,” he said, his face lighting up with worry and relief. And then he was there in Sam’s arms—well, arm.
“You’re all right?” Sam whispered hoarsely against his rough cheek. “I was so worried he’d given you something else… something bad.” At the back of his mind, he’d worried it had been poison, but he hadn’t let himself go there.
“I’m fine. A little tired, but I’m fine. What about you? They told me you fought him. You brave idiot.”
“He killed my parents,” said Sam. “And he hurt you.”
Nathan’s eyes were wide with pain and something else—pride. Sam started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Nathan asked, slightly alarmed.
“The Princess Bride. I… this is just like The Princess Bride. Well almost.”
Nathan looked at him like he was crazy, and he put a hand to Sam’s forehead. “How do you feel?”
Sam’s laughter started to give way to a coughing fit, and his lungs ached. Maybe he was slightly mad. “Like I was just shot, then dredged from the bottom of a river. I thought for sure I was a goner. Who saved me?”
“Officer Jain. Remember him?”
Sam smoothed back Nathan’s hair with his good hand. “I’ve run into him a time or two. Looks like I have a thank-you card to write.” If he hadn’t arrived when he did, Sam would be fish food.
“He’s been working closely with Donna. She’s all right, by the way. I imagine she’ll want to talk to you soon, but I’ve convinced her a day of rest won’t hurt.” Nathan kissed Sam’s eyelids and his forehead. His touch was gentle, seeking out tender places. Sam could hardly feel the pain in his arm anymore. Whatever meds the doc had given him were good. But he couldn’t sleep yet.
Sam forced his eyes open. “And Rivera?”
“Dead. Donna shot him.”
“I’m sorry.” The man had killed his parents, but he had been a mentor to Nathan and a friend. At least that was what Nathan had always believed.
“So am I.” Sam saw the raw pain in Nathan’s eyes. He knew what that betrayal meant. Nathan would need support over the next few weeks, and Sam would be there to give it to him. They would be there for each other. But they didn’t need to talk about it yet. Sam stroked Nathan’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”
Nathan framed Sam’s face with both hands. “When I woke up and they told me you were in surgery, I thought the worst.”
Sam knew the feeling. “When I saw you in the back of the car, unresponsive… yeah. I thought the worst too. It made everything we’ve been fighting over seem so insignificant.”
“Perspective’s always helpful, but I prefer to get it in other ways.”
“Me too. How come I’m the one who always winds up in the hospital?” Sam stifled a yawn. His body felt heavy, like he could sleep for a week. His face was tender where Rivera had landed a particularly nasty punch.
“I’d take your place in a second.”
“No. I don’t want that either.” His eyes drifted shut again. It was nice having Nathan so close, and it would be even nicer if they were in bed together. He wanted to stay awake to enjoy the hands petting his hair. “I don’t want you to feel guilty over this. It wasn’t your fault.”
Nathan sighed. Sam knew he was probably fighting a losing battle, but he had to say it anyway.
“Oh, by the way, I found this in my pocket.” Nathan held out the silver keychain. Its tiny key dangled like a promise. “You put it there, didn’t you?”
Sam nodded. “Yes. In the car… before he… I wanted you to know… he wanted….” He blinked back the tears that were suddenly threatening.
Nathan leaned down and softly kissed his mouth. “Shh. We can talk about it later. Here.” He made a move to put the key back in Sam’s hand.
“You keep it.” Sam shook his head. It felt like it weighed twenty pounds. “I’m sleepy.”
“I know. It’s okay.” Nathan pressed his warm lips against Sam’s forehead. “Get some rest. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
“But Tim. Is he okay? I didn’t get to take… the stuff is there in a pile. I wanted him to have it.”
“Of course. I’ll call Lisa and make sure we get it sorted out.”
“Don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Sam’s grip went slack. He was already tumbling into a dream. In it Nathan said, “I’ll never leave you so long as I live.”
SHADOW WAS a small white blob of fur at his side, purring loudly. They were both curled up on the couch a few days after the shooting, and Sam was frustrated. What good was a fancy new computer if he couldn’t type?
“Give it some time. The doctors say you should rest your arm.” Nathan appeared in the doorway with a kitchen towel draped lazily over his shoulder. An unpleasant smell wafted from behind him. Something was burning, but Nathan assured him it was fine.
“I don’t have a few days,” Sam groused. “The news is happening now.” He’d even tried typing with his right hand only—an exercise in futility. He’d never be able to finish his article. When the Times called him, he thought it was a prank. But it wasn’t, and not finishing by his deadline would be career suicide.
“All right. What if I got you some voice-recognition software?”
Sam brightened. “Could you?”
“I have to go out later. I’ll see what they have at the store.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
Nathan shrugged. “I’m smarter than you.”
The doorbell rang, and Nathan went to answer it. Sam smiled at the group of familiar voices mingling in greeting. He missed his friends. They briefly visited the hospital but hadn’t been permitted to stay long. Alex and Rachel were both carrying presents, and Yuri, bless him, had two extralarge pepperoni pizzas.
“When you told me Nathan was cooking, I knew I had to intervene.”
“You’ve done the Lord’s work,” Sam agreed.
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Nathan snapped the kitchen towel at him, and Sam swatted it away with his good arm. He set down his laptop and made room for his friends, much to Shadow’s chagrin. She eyed the newcomers with disdain from the floor.
Everyone settled for lunch. Nathan sat to Sam’s left and Rachel to his right. Alex and Yuri surrounded the coffee table, sitting on pillows on the floor.
“So how is the patient recovering?” Rachel asked. “Are you behaving yourself?”
“What do you think?” Nathan asked.
“Never do that again, by the way.” Yuri glared at him.
Sam returned the look. “What? Get shot? I’ll try to remember.” He wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.
“I meant tackle a mobster with a gun.”
“It’s all part of the job,” said Sam, with just a touch of pride.
All joking aside, there were some things he’d never forget—like Rivera’s last victim, the young man he had to carry. Sam could still feel the warmth leeching out of those dead limbs. Antonio Rivera was one of the coldest, most calculating men he had ever met, and Sam was glad he got the punishment he deserved, even if he wasn’t the one who dealt the final blow.
It was hard to say if knowi
ng the truth made it easier to take. He still hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around what happened, and he was pretty sure Nathan had instructed everyone not to bring it up.
“Are you cold?” Rachel reached for the extra blanket on the back of the couch and draped it over his lap.
“I’m fine. Seriously.”
“You always say that. Shut up and let us pamper you.”
Sam let his friends fill him in on the more innocuous goings-on in Stonebridge. Rachel and Alex had good news. They were planning a Christmas wedding. Nothing too fancy, just friends and family at the courthouse and a huge party at the Lucky Star. And then the kicker.
“You’re buying the bar?” Sam’s mouth dropped open.
Rachel made a high-pitched noise and stamped her feet on the floor. “Yes. The owner wanted to sell, and I’ve been saving, and well, I figured it was time I went for it. We’re going to redecorate and reopen in time for the wedding.”
“Sacrilege,” Sam said. “You better not fire the cook.” He loved those burgers.
Alex beamed at her. “Look at my fiancée, would you? A business owner. I’m so proud.”
A round of congratulations filled the room, and they all raised their soda glasses to toast. Sam had meant what he said about not drinking. He had too much to lose. In moments when he was happy, he didn’t miss it. It was the dark times he had to worry about. Still, he knew he needed some help. He’d scheduled his first session for the following week.
“What about you? How’s the boy toy?” Sam smirked at Yuri, who stuck his tongue out.
“He has a name, you know.”
“Ohhh,” said Alex. “Then it’s serious.”
Yuri gave Sam a pointed look. “If you can have a sugar daddy, I can have a boy toy.”
“I thought you said he had a name,” Sam said, throwing a couch pillow at Yuri.
Nathan scowled. “Can you all please stop calling me that? Sam contributes plenty to this relationship.”
“I’ll bet he does.” Rachel waggled her eyebrows and made a blowjob gesture.
Laughter punctuated the rest of the exchange, and Sam settled back while the others fought over what movie to watch. He didn’t care, as long as they were all together.
“Star Wars it is,” Nathan finally said, flicking on the TV. Sam leaned against him, resting his bad arm on Nathan’s lap. Alex situated herself between Rachel’s legs, Yuri sprawled on the floor, and they all settled into an epic movie. Sam had to write, but the article wasn’t due for another couple days. He supposed he could take a little R & R. Doctor’s orders, after all.
“Sam, what are you wearing around your neck?” Rachel asked as the music began and the words started to scroll across the screen. Sam’s fingers automatically flew to his throat. He flushed and leaned closer to Nathan, who said nothing.
“Uh. I’m going goth?”
“Hmm.” Her eyes flicked from Sam to Nathan.
No one else paid it much attention, and Sam thought she might have forgotten about it. But Rachel never forgot anything. About halfway through the movie, when Nathan got up to use the bathroom, she leaned close and whispered into his ear.
“You can’t fool me, Sam Flynn. I’m your best friend, and I know sure as I know my own name you’re not going goth. I’ve had my suspicions.”
A swell of protectiveness rose up in his chest. “I know. But Rach, you don’t under—”
“I don’t need to know the details. But tell me… is it what you want?”
He fingered the warm leather and metal. It seemed so natural to wear. He’d forgotten he had it on when their guests arrived. And he wasn’t ashamed. “Yeah. It’s what I want.”
“And he treats you well?”
“He’s the best person I’ve ever met,” Sam said.
“Well.” She patted his knee. “That’s good enough for me. I’m not even gonna get jealous.”
“Shut up,” Yuri complained from the floor. “We’re trying to watch the damn movie.”
Sam kicked at him. “Like you haven’t seen it a thousand times.”
JUNE TURNED into July, and the real heat and humidity kicked in, drenching everything in sticky moisture. The morning of the fourth, Nathan emerged from the bathroom freshly shaven, and Sam blinked, hardly recognizing him. He’d liked the beard, but without it, Nathan was truly breathtaking. From her position curled up next to Sam on the bed, Shadow looked up and blinked sleepy blue eyes.
“Wow.”
“You like?” Nathan rubbed at his jaw. His arm flexed with the movement and drew Sam’s attention to the black orchid tattoo. Nathan had been talking about getting more ink, and Sam thought they might do it together.
“I love. Does it feel better?”
“So much better. I can always grow it again in the winter.” Nathan removed his towel and shimmied it up and down his back. His thick cock swayed between his legs. Even when it was flaccid, it was a sight to behold. He turned around and gave Sam a show from behind, running the towel down his sides and over his shapely ass.
Sam’s pulse picked up, but they didn’t have time to mess around. They were due to report to the station at nine. The Fourth of July parade would start at ten. To kick it off, the acting mayor was going to award Sam’s father posthumous recognition for years of service rendered. Sam would receive the honor in his name.
“Are you nervous?” Nathan asked.
“A little.” His stomach swam at the thought of appearing in front of all those people. After the publication of his Times piece on Antonio Rivera a couple weeks before, he’d become something of a minor celebrity to those in the know. Even the Gazette, the paper that had strung him along on piecemeal assignments for years, had called to offer him a full staff position with benefits. Sam wasn’t sure he should take it.
Nathan started to dress, covering up his glorious skin with a white, V-neck tee, and then pulling on a button-down shirt. His movements were graceful and efficient, and Sam figured he might as well enjoy the show. “How about your shoulder?”
“A little sore.” Sam touched it gingerly. The external wound had scabbed over, but the muscles had yet to fully knit.
“I’ll get you some aspirin,” Nathan said in a tone that brooked no objection. Sam had stopped the harder drugs as quickly as he could withstand the pain. He wasn’t about to trade one addiction for another.
Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Okay. Thanks. I guess I should shower too.”
“I’ll make coffee.”
They caught each other’s lips in a quick kiss as Sam crossed the room. He traveled a few more feet and then turned.
“Nathan?”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking… after the parade. Would you mind going with me to the cemetery?”
Nathan’s expression softened. “Of course.”
THE SKY was a clear, brilliant blue, and the grass of the Willow Run Cemetery was green as an emerald. Sam carried the medal in his right pocket. He led Nathan through the main entrance and down the dirt path that led to his family plot. Maybe someday he would wind up buried there. It was a strange, unwelcome thought, and one he pushed quickly out of mind. He had many reasons to live, and one of the most important was walking by his side.
“I haven’t been here in years,” he admitted.
“I know.”
“It’s over here.” Sam gestured with his good arm.
The grave was well tended, in spite of his absence, and the pink marble stone was in pristine condition. Sam was relieved. He paid a monthly upkeep, but part of him worried his parents were being neglected even so… or maybe it was his own neglect he worried about. He’d talked it over with his therapist the day before, and she was the one who suggested the visit. She was a pretty smart lady. Being in the cemetery felt like the right thing to do.
Seamus Flynn, March 30, 1957–December 23, 2007
Laura Flynn, June 8, 1959–December 27, 2007
An unknown well-wisher had left a pot of fresh daisies on the ground
. It warmed Sam from the inside, knowing someone else cared about his parents. Remembered them. He clasped Nathan’s hand, squeezed, and then released it.
“I’ll give you a moment alone,” Nathan said.
“Thanks.”
Nathan retreated to one of the nearby benches, and Sam turned back to the stone.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I guess… it’s been a while. I’m sorry.”
The warm breeze ruffled his hair, almost like a caress. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
Sam kneeled down, not caring if he was dirtying his nice pants. He drew the medal out of his pocket. It was bronze and shimmered in the sunlight. Sam set it down next to the daisies. “This is for you, Dad. I know… we know what happened.” His voice cracked, and he blinked back the tears. The ground underneath his knees was warm, and a bee buzzed over his head. He put his hands on the smooth stone. “I love you. I want you to know that. And Tim… I have good news. He’s getting better. I promise I’ll take care of him.”
The truth was, Tim might never fully recover. Sam knew the reality. But every day he seemed to be further emerging from his long sleep.
“And… well. There’s one more thing.” He glanced over his shoulder and beckoned. Nathan was pretending to look at his phone, but he immediately stood and joined Sam at the grave. He held out his hand, and Sam took it with his good arm.
“I wanted you to meet my parents,” he said hoarsely. He didn’t bother to wipe the tear tracks off his face. Nathan’s eyes shimmered too.
Sam looked back at the stone. “This is Nathan. My partner.”
“Hello,” said Nathan. “I love your son very much.”
They stood for a few more moments with their arms around each other’s waists. Sam breathed in the fresh scent of cut grass and closed his eyes. It was a peaceful place. He was glad he picked it.
Blind Spot Page 21
