by Angel Payne
I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to be brave and strong like Drake had been, but the tears came and fell, unbridled and uninhibited.
“I’m so sorry!” I said.
Drake answered first. “Why are you apologizing, Tolly?”
“I didn’t want to waste time with all this boo-hooing—but I can’t help it. I’m so happy.” I looked between the two of them. “So damn happy.”
“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.”
Drake slanted over, lifting my free hand to his lips just as I’d just done with Fletch. His lips were firm and warm on my knuckles, and his dark eyes burned into me. His pupils had turned nearly black, igniting instant fires in my bloodstream—and my heart.
We broke apart as Fletcher let out a pained sound. The spell of Fletcher’s gaze was shattered, blaring guilt through every pore of my body. What the hell had we been thinking? This wasn’t the place or time for getting hot and bothered.
I yanked my hand in closer, feeling like a kid sneaking a sip of her mom’s diet soda—and getting caught. With my defenses down, my psyche clicked into its default mode of hyper-crazy caregiver.
“Are you in pain, baby? Can I get you anything for it? Maya’s right at the nurses’ station. I can just go run and get her. Are you hungry? I’ll bet you want some real food right about now. A shower, too. Maybe they’ll let us get you a shower.”
“Natalia.” Drake’s commanding voice sliced into my frenzy. “Settle down. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
I jerked my bugged-out eyes in Drake’s direction. “What?”
“You’re acting like a teenager who just got caught sneaking in after curfew. Stop. We’re happy our partner is back with us. That’s all. Why are you freaking out?”
“I’mnotfreakingout.”
Fletcher burst into a chuckle. The reaction made him sink deeper into his pillows. He closed his eyes again, but a broad smile now adorned his perfect angel’s mouth.
Under any other circumstance, I’d smack the arrogant bastard. Instead, I suddenly witnessed my insanity of actions through his calm aura—and I laughed, too.
And it felt so damn good.
I really had been ludicrous. Drake and I had barely even kissed over the last week. Nothing felt remotely right without Fletcher, especially being intimate. I had nothing to feel guilty about.
Today wasn’t for guilt. Or anger. Or blame. Or sadness. Or pettiness.
Today was about celebration.
And right here, right now, I had an invitation to the best party on Earth.
Chapter Nine
Fletcher
“I can do it.”
The snarl wasn’t my first intention, but I couldn’t take it back now. Drake would get over it, of that I was sure. Probably one of the few assurances about my life at the moment.
“Just lean on me.” He boomeranged the bite back at me as soon as we got out of the Range Rover, in front of our building. “Stop being stubborn and let me help you.”
I should’ve been reveling in this moment. I was finally free from the medical prison that dinged, beeped and alarmed at me every hour of the day. I wouldn’t be sleeping on a plastic mattress tonight. I’d be eating home-cooked meals again.
And, oh, yeah…I was alive.
But I couldn’t escape the moroseness. It slammed harder as I studied the exhaustion lining my brother’s face. Drake was bone tired, and I was a lot of the reason for it.
But not all.
Even super heroes had to get some rest. Not that this one would ever admit it.
“Fuck you,” I muttered, though it lacked the bite of real anger. Hell, maybe the reasonable touch would actually get through to him. “All I’ve been doing is ‘letting people help’. I need to start doing things for myself and not waiting for someone to come rescue me.”
“Fletcher—”
“Tolly. Don’t.”
She sighed heavily. “Please, just listen to Drake. It’s only been a week since you opened your eyes and started breathing on your own. There’s no need to rush your recovery. You remember what Mac said? One step at a time?”
“Fuck him, too.”
“There’s something you and Killian will finally agree on.” Drake paused, hands on his denim-covered hips, and laughed. His eyes, nearly matching his charcoal sweater, glinted in the afternoon sun.
“And probably Taylor, too—but for other reasons.”
I shot her a puzzled glance at that, but she was busy checking out the large bag of supplies the hospital had sent home with us. I swung my sights back to Drake, who only shrugged.
I released a tired breath myself. Early afternoon, and it had already been quite a day. I hadn’t expected my discharge to be as emotional as it was. Drake and Talia had forged tight friendships with my regular nurses while I’d been ‘out’, as we’d come around to calling it. Holding a bedside vigil was a trying experience, so there were lots of tears, hugs and choked-up well-wishes that had been both awesome and awful for me to watch. My life had been in the hands of these people for two weeks. I owed them everything.
Mom and Dad had come for the departure, as well. Neither would ever shed a tear in public—gasp, the horror—so they’d stood in tight silence while Talia had hugged and thanked every person who’d participated in my recovery. Yeah, even the orderlies and hospital volunteers. Drake and I had accompanied her, beaming as she’d promised to come back and visit them all. She’d even discreetly exchanged phone numbers with her favorite, and therefore mine, the sweet Maya. Talia was beautiful and brave and generous, and I was so damn proud to be by her side.
That was all the good stuff.
I just still had to reconcile myself to the hard stuff.
The really hard stuff.
There were big holes in my memory of the events leading up to and including the accident. I clearly recollected the night before. I’d been pissed at my family then myself, foolishly taking it out on Drake and Talia the next morning. I’d left home without saying goodbye to either of them, but that was where things went blank. I was told I’d been broadsided by a delivery truck, an accident totaling my beloved B6. I couldn’t talk about how much I’d miss that car, knowing I’d get lectured about the miracle of being alive—and I was thankful, especially when Drake and Talia had finally arrived.
When they’d walked back into my world again, that afternoon last week…
Fuck.
I’d never forget that moment, ever. All the joy, relief, exultation and gratitude would be indelible parts of me. And more. So much more. My body and mind had been swimming against the strongest current in a vast, dark sea. I kept swimming but got nowhere. I’d been drowning—until suddenly, the tide changed and I could make it to the shore…and there they were, waiting like angels. My anchors. My safety. The two people I loved more than anyone else.
The two people who’d then driven me insane with their pep talks, rah-rah inspiration—yeah, even Drake had been ‘bouncy’—and can-do crap about how I’d be back to myself in no time. ‘Just a little physical therapy’ and I’d be ‘good as new’.
A little PT? In no time?
A week had passed and I still couldn’t take a piss without someone helping me. The right side of my body had its own agenda most of the time, and my fatigue after even the simplest tasks was maddening beyond measure.
Just like new?
My ass.
I’d had a chance to talk with Mac before they’d all came in this morning. I’d requested the early meeting with the doc, needing to hear the unvarnished truth about my recovery. Part of me also wanted to assess the man when Killian wasn’t around, to try and glimpse why he and Kil had declared themselves the new Batman and Joker—but, yeah, mostly it was about me. I couldn’t take the sunshine everyone kept blowing up my ass. From Drake and Tolly to every care and service provider on the hospital’s staff, I’d had enough of the ‘let’s-go-team’ to last three lifetimes. I knew they cared, but I just needed someone to level with me, man to man.
‘Am I seriously ever going to walk again? Run? Play water polo? Fuck my girlfriend? Just tell me the truth, Doc. I can’t take this rainbow and unicorn crap any longer.’
He’d laughed, but the humor never reached his eyes. Far from it. Which was god damned terrifying.
‘Put yourself in my place, man. I just want to know what I’m up against. I can handle it. Just shoot straight with me.’
Mac had sat on the edge of my bed, fiddling with the shiny Tag watch on his wrist before leveling his gaze with mine. I’d asked for this but hadn’t been certain I wanted it anymore. Too late by then. When he’d spoken, his tone had been different than before.
Different—but not morose.
Simply speaking to me as a friend, instead of a medical professional.
‘Yeah, Fletch. Of course you will. But exactly when? Well, that’ll be up to you. You’ve had a serious head injury, dude. You’re looking at some hard rebuilding in your immediate future. But if you stay the course, there is no medical reason to prevent you from returning to a full, natural life—in every aspect.’
I’d nodded, hoping my deep gratitude showed on my face, because words weren’t possible. He’d seemed to read the message. Mac himself was usually a man of few words, and on most days, I’d fully appreciated it. Talia had been talking enough for three people since I’d pushed back into reality. It was how she handled anxiety, but it was making me tense and angry.
Everything was making me tense and angry.
I hated it.
But was helpless to tame it.
Pushing that giant snowball harder up the self-control hill.
Things that I typically had patience for suddenly lit my fuse—with its super-short wick. Just last night, when I hadn’t been able to get the last mouthful of corn off my dinner plate with my fork, I’d flipped the dinner tray table like the infant I felt most of the time. My own body had abandoned me. Nothing worked the way it should anymore.
Snowball. Hill.
“Okay, man. On three, we’re going from the car to the wheelchair right there. Ready?”
“For fuck’s sake, D.”
He ignored my outburst, hauling my half-useless body into the waiting wheelchair.
Awesome. My very own wheelchair.
“Soooooo, we’ve scheduled a home health nurse to come in and give us a hand for the first couple of weeks. I think you’ll like him. Maya helped me interview a couple candidates and Marcus was the best fit.” Talia chattered away while Drake maneuvered the wheelchair. When I didn’t respond, she started backpedaling. “Of course, if you don’t like something about him, or you just don’t get along or whatever, we’ll have the agency send us someone else to try. No problem. They’ve been very helpful. They want us to be happy, so if you don’t—”
“Tolly. Please. He’s going to love the guy. Who wouldn’t love him?”
If I thought Drake had been her biggest fan before, it was nothing compared to his new dynamic with her. They worked in nearly flawless sync with each other. Anticipated needs before they were spoken. Divided up tasks like well-oiled gears. Practically finished each other’s sentences.
Exactly how she and I had once been.
“I know, right?” Her eyes sparkled—literally—when she gazed at him. She dropped back a step to bump celebratory shoulders with him, too. Awwww, so cute. “And did you hear him saying he could help with meals, too?”
“That’ll be a big help.” I guessed his damn eyes were sparkling, too.
Talia stayed by his side as he pushed me into the building. Thankfully, none of the other residents were hanging about. Talia scooted in front of me and pressed the Call button.
She leaned down to be level with my face, tenderly kissing my lips. “I’m so glad you’re home. It hasn’t been the same here without you.” Unshed tears pooled in her incredible sable eyes.
“Hey.” I reached out with my ‘good’ hand and touched her cheek. “No more crying, okay?”
“But they’re happy tears now.” She turned her lips into my palm. “I’m just so thankful. So grateful that this is the moment we’re sharing right now.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” I scowled.
The elevator doors opened. Drake swung me around so he could back the chair into the car.
“Of course it makes sense.” Again, she donned her rose-colored glasses. “Believe me, they prepared us for a lot of possible ends to this story, mister. This is the best one by far.”
I didn’t relinquish my glower. Likely made me look like a teenage asshole, but just the thought of pretending otherwise felt as though I were standing at the base of Everest right now. “Sorry, baby, but I don’t see how me being a burden pain in the ass for an undefined amount of time could ever be viewed as a positive thing.” I’d meant it during my conversation with Mac. I was done with the sunshine and sparkles.
As had already become customary, they both went to silent mode. When they couldn’t toss another rainbow kitten at my blatant facts, they just shut their mouths—and maybe that was for the best. Eventually they’d get tired of playing nurse. I was simply the only one willing to say it so far.
Two weeks passed in much the same way. We all developed a routine—sort of—which ate away at more of my hope each day. Bright spot? Marcus ended up being a pretty cool guy. He looked better suited for action movies than nursing but had no interest in show biz, and simply enjoyed taking care of his clients. Most importantly, he knew when to lay off the peppy horseshit just before I lost my cool, as well as sensing when I needed to be left alone. Best of all, he had a way of taking care of my daily living needs while leaving my dignity intact.
For the most part.
Physical therapy was the worst hour of every day. I hated it. No. What was a word worse than hate? My once athletic, capable body betrayed me at almost every turn. The exercises the therapist put me through were elementary and boring, and I was humiliated at my inability to complete even those.
On the ‘super lucky’ days, my mother, father or sister came to visit. Their forced civility to Drake and Talia never stopped making my skin crawl. My fuse didn’t run short during their stays—the rope just burned then blew. Drake and Talia deserved to be canonized for the monster they inherited in me after those hours, but it was impossible to pretend I felt otherwise. Over and over, I replayed the night we’d all but been thrown out of the precious anniversary celebration—the starting spark to my rage, leading to my disgusting treatment of Tolly in bed that night, then my horrific bender afterward and the morning I’d fled my own home like a shamed puppy.
Because of them. Because of their pretentious, ridiculous airs. Everyone in this fucking town knew Dick and Frannie Ford were imposters, so why was I the only one forced to tolerate them? If friends were the family one chose, what were the family you yearned to unchoose? Life had no box to check for that one. Fucker.
By the third week, my attitude had taken a total shit. I was miserably disappointed with my progress. When I went for the follow-up appointment with Mac, he was positive and animated, firing off all good news. I just couldn’t see it. All I saw was where I was currently, and where I used to be.
Mac urged me to get busy again, in careful increments. But work held no interest for me. Things were starting to pile up at FFE, things needing my personal attention. I didn’t give a shit about any of it.
But none of that was the worst of it.
I began watching Drake and Talia when they thought I was resting. I listened to their whispered words of love and passion, followed by heated touches and kisses, and knew they suffered because of me. They were holding off on making love until I could participate.
Talia was clear about her viewpoint. She refused to be with Drake and not me. We had never made love to her separately. She was adamant that practice wouldn’t start now. She’d stated, with yet more tears, that she never wanted to experience one of us without the other. She’d backed it up with all the new-age crap like balance and harmony an
d completion and karma, but I’d wheeled away—literally—before the diatribe was done. She overwhelmed me with babble because she didn’t know what else to do.
Because none of us did.
I forced myself to consider how badly my brother must be aching. Drake had to be ready to explode right now. It had been five fucking weeks since the accident.
The string of thought brought me to a singular conclusion.
It was time to take one for the team.
They had to find some relief. I hadn’t had a single moment of arousal since the accident, especially with my mental link with Tolly still snapped. To be honest, I wondered if things would ever work again. Everything else on my body seemed to have its own agenda—why would my dick be any different?
But damn it, I needed this, too. I needed to feel something other than misery. I needed to touch Talia’s skin. All her skin. To watch the warmth of her spirit flare into fire, and bask in the heat of her awakened sexuality. I needed to be her lover in at least a few ways, if not all. If that meant I was just their voyeur, then that was what I’d settle for. Lying beside them, encouraging where I could, had to be better than constantly snarling at them.
Timing would be everything with my proposition. I considered talking to Drake about it first but knew deep down he wouldn’t go for my idea. His savior routine was getting harder and harder to swallow every day. I didn’t want to resent my best friend, but I was starting to—another solid supporting argument for this plan. If we didn’t turn the man’s balls back to a normal color soon, I’d deck him in his perfect Adonis face. I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t happen anyhow.
No anger. Not now. Push it down, man.
The dinner dishes were cleared and the drapes drawn until morning. Our typical routine dictated we’d all watch a movie or do something together before turning in for the night. Since coming home I’d slept in my old room, because all the supplies and equipment Marcus used were in there. Drake sacked out on the sofa most nights and Talia was all alone in the big bed that had once been our heaven.
