by Layla Dorine
“Can’t say I blame him. Who’d want to be trapped in a room when they’re used to being outside?”
“Yeah, and if there’s anything Nicky loves, it’s being on the track, or in the water.”
“Yeah, I, um, was gonna ask about that,” Gray said hesitantly. “Have they told you how permanent his injuries are? Will he be able to go back to racing? I mean, he mentioned they advised against it, but…”
Vic shook his head wearily and reached for another beer, handing a second one over to Gray as well. “I guess Nicky didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“They checked the vision in his eye again. It’s pretty screwed up—closer to sixty percent loss than fifty like they originally thought. He doesn’t really have any peripheral vision on that side, so with a helmet on he’d be pretty much blind on his left. That makes racing impossible.”
Gray was silent for a bit, took a slow, steady drink of his beer, then focused on Vic. “What about riding?”
“I just told you, he can’t.”
“I didn’t ask about racing, I asked about riding in general. Can he still do that if he wanted to?”
“On the track maybe, if he’s careful and no one rides on that side of him. On the street, no. He can’t get a motorcycle and make up for not being able to race. Truth is, Nicky doesn’t really like them; that’s part of why he drives a truck.”
“And the other part?”
“To be able to take his bike anywhere he wanted to run it.” Vic laughed. “Lots of good trails for that.”
Gray sighed. “So it’s not just the racing he’s lost, but a freedom he loves too.”
“Pretty much,” Vic said. “And until we find out how much he’ll be able to relearn to use that leg, there’s no way of knowing if he’ll ever be able to surf again either.”
“Fucking hell,” Gray muttered, and took another gulp.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Gray finished his beer and stood, checking his watch. “I’d better get going. I want to stop by the hospital.”
“Sure. I’ll stop in later, give you guys some time.”
“Thanks, Vic.”
On the drive over, Gray found himself wondering what mood Nicky would be in when he arrived. At times he seemed so depressed that he would stare out the window, barely answering when Gray spoke to him, and other times he was upbeat, and determined to get to rehab sooner rather than later, if only to prove to the doctors that they’d been wrong to say he couldn’t get back on a dirt bike again. Personally, the thing Gray cared about most right now was that Nicky healed from the accident and wouldn’t need aid to get around.
Gray found Nicky propped up in bed, struggling to eat with his right hand.
“Hey,” Nicky said, perking up a bit when he saw Gray come in.
“You’re looking good today,” Gray told him.
“I want to go home, but these vampires say I can’t yet, so I figured I should get this eating part down so I don’t make a mess of myself when I get home.”
“Good plan,” Gray said encouragingly as he sat beside Nicky. He stroked Nicky’s cheek, and when Nicky turned his head and looked into his eyes, he saw immediately what Vic had been talking about: Nicky’s left eye refused to focus properly. “I wanna kiss you.”
Nicky sighed and leaned into Gray’s touch. Gray caressed his cheek, then tipped his head up to kiss him gently.
“I miss you,” Gray told him when they broke the kiss. “I’m hoping when you get out of here we can do more together than just roll around in the sheets.”
“Yeah, sure. You can wheel me out for ice cream and maybe do a few wheelies before we get a sundae,” Nicky said with a sigh.
“You really do have a sweet tooth; don’t you?”
“Only when I’m depressed. Though I could really go for a steak and a sundae right now.”
“So steak and ice cream should be your welcome home dinner; is what you’re saying?”
Nicky grinned, and Gray carefully sat on the bed beside him so Nicky could curl up as best he could, with his head on Gray’s chest, Gray’s arm loosely over his shoulder.
When the nurse peeked in and saw them that way she smiled and quickly checked Nicky’s vitals. “Your visits always leave him in good spirits. His other friend who comes each day makes Nicky fight harder too. I don’t know about that third guy though; Nicky was very upset after he left earlier today.”
“What other guy?” Gray asked.
“I don’t remember his name, but he was somewhat tall, about Nicky’s age, black hair, blue eyes and said he’d been trying to visit, but you and Vic always seemed to beat him to it.”
“Terry,” Gray said, and felt Nicky flinch. “Can you not let him in here anymore? He’s the one responsible for Nicky being here.”
“Nicky is the only one who can ban someone for coming in. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to him about it,” Gray said, kissing Nicky’s temple.
The nurse gave them another smile before leaving the room.
“Did you hear what she said about Terry?” Gray asked.
“Yeah,” Nicky muttered.
“Are you willing to do that?”
“I already told him to go away, so, yeah, I’ll tell the nurses not to let him back in.”
“Good,” Gray said. “You need to focus on getting better, not dealing with his crap.”
Nicky said nothing; he was relaxed against Gray with his eyes closed. Gray could tell when he’d fallen asleep because the monitors changed, as did Nicky’s breathing. Gray had seen the deep bruising along Nicky’s torso. He knew it was a lucky thing that he’d only cracked a few ribs, rather than breaking them. They’d heal up nicely as long as he rested. Slipping out of the bed, Gray kissed Nicky then left him to sleep.
***
Despite Vic and Gray’s daily visits, Nicky was going stir crazy stuck in the hospital bed. Even cartoons held little appeal, but he left them on just to have some sound in the room. He was watching a cat chase a mouse while a dog chased him, seeing nothing amusing about their antics, when a sharp rap on the door preceded River poking his head in.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
“Unfortunately,” Nicky grumbled.
“I stopped by before work, but you weren’t up yet.” River chuckled as he slipped into the room and dropped into the chair beside the bed, a cardboard box perched on his lap. “If I were you, I’d be taking advantage of all the extra time to sleep too.”
“What else am I supposed to do but sleep, eat bland food, and stare at the TV until my eyeballs fall out?”
“Then it’s a good thing I came by.” River removed a board game from the box, set up the sliding wooden attachment on the bed that acted as a table, and plunked it down in front of Nicky.
Nicky glanced from River to it and back again, one eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”
“Well, as you pointed out, what else do you have to do?”
A slight grin crossed Nicky’s face as he looked over the game and watched River steadily setting up the pieces. “I guess I can bankrupt you a couple times before I go to bed.”
“In your dreams!” River laughed.
“Nah, my dreams are filled with my bike, the beach, and Gray fucking me so hard I see fireworks.”
“Dayum,” River breathed and shifted a bit in his seat, surreptitiously trying to adjust himself.
“River. Hey, River. You gonna divide up the money or do you want me to try and do it?”
“Um,” River blinked, looking around.
Nicky tried to sort the bills with his good hand, but was getting colorful strips of paper everywhere. Seeing the approaching disaster and moving quickly, before the whole stack went sliding off the bed, River gathered them up and quickly got the money dealt out.
For a short time the only sound in the room was the rolling of the dice, the movement of their pieces, and the occasional laugh when a roll forced one of them to draw a card and move somewhere that cost t
hem money. Then Nicky paused, small metal dog in his hand, and stared at River.
“You ever wish you could go back in time and change stuff?”
River nodded. “Sometimes. Who doesn’t? Guess it’s human nature to want to go back and fix the things that went wrong; hindsight being twenty/twenty and all that crap. But I don’t spend too much time thinking about it since it’s not really an option. Just have to live with the past and learn from it.”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s helpful.”
“No one said it was always good, and certainly not easy, just that we don’t have much other choice. Either adapt and deal with it or do nothing and let the past define your life.”
Nicky sighed and rolled the dice, moving the dog seven spaces.
“I know you’d like to go back and avoid the accident, maybe not even race that day at all, but you can’t. You just have to move forward.”
“Shows what you know,” Nicky said bitterly. “I’d go back much farther than that. I’d go back to the day I met Terry and make sure I stayed home with the flu. Or, better still, transferred to a different school so there would never be a chance to meet him.”
Chapter Seven
Nicky spent a total of three and a half weeks in the hospital before he was allowed to go home to finish healing so he could start PT. Despite the fact that he was finally being released from the room he’d grown to despise, he found it difficult to smile when Vic came to get him. Instead, he was sullen and quiet on the drive home, bitter knowing he was simply exchanging one prison for another.
“Hey, at least now you won’t have someone coming in to poke and prod at you at all hours of the day,” Gray commented as he and Vic helped Nicky into the newly converted living room and onto his bed. Nicky just grumbled and pulled a pillow over his face until Vic plucked it away from him.
“Can’t have you suffocating yourself on your first night home.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Nicky grumbled; though he cheered up a little when he saw that Gray had made him steak, broccoli with cheese sauce, and a fudge and marshmallow sundae for dinner.
“Wow,” he said, taking a deep whiff of the food as Gray set the tray down in front of him.
Smiling, Gray brushed a strand of hair back from Nicky’s face. “I promised; didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you really meant it. Figured you just said it so I’d eat the crap they were serving for dinner.”
Sighing, Gray raised Nicky’s chin so their eyes met. “If I promise you something, then you had better believe that it’s a promise I intend to keep.”
Grey stood, ruffling Nicky’s hair before returning to the kitchen to retrieve his own plate. The three of them ate in the living room with a cartoon woodpecker laughing in the background.
Nicky savored every bite of the meal, and the familiarity of his home, grateful beyond words that Gray and Vic had moved his bedroom downstairs where he could actually wheel into the kitchen on his own, if he could manage to get himself from the bed to the wheelchair.
It wasn’t easy with one bad arm and one bad leg, and the first time he tried it Gray had to catch him before he toppled. It was frustrating, realizing that he couldn’t really maneuver the chair and someone still had to wheel him into the bathroom, unless he wanted to wet himself while fighting to get the chair through the door. With one hand he just couldn’t seem to line it up right and kept getting a wheel stuck on the frame. He’d banged against the wall several times, leaving scuff marks and some dented plaster, before he gave in and allowed them to help.
It had been even more frustrating to hear Gray remind him that it took time to learn to manage, and that Nicky would get it if he were patient. He was tired of being patient. Tired of sitting or lying on his ass, tired of four walls, tired of help, tired of not being able to stand, or run, or take a swim in the ocean, or even have a proper goddamned shower.
He was seething by the time they put on the first movie. Maybe they could tell, because Vic had chosen one of his favorites: a western about a group of cowboys who went on a killing spree to seek vengeance over the murder of their beloved boss.
Gray lay on the bed with Nicky pressed against him. He wished he could lie on his side and curl his body around Gray’s. He hated not being able to hear Gray’s heartbeat, and Gray’s arm around him wasn’t quite enough. He shifted, trying to press tighter, and sighed at the feel of Gray’s fingers in his hair. It felt so good that it made him forget he hadn’t been able to get it brushed out, or washed the way he liked it. In fact, once he let himself relax, he found himself enjoying the moment.
***
At some point before the final credits Nicky fell asleep. Gray smiled down at him tenderly before extracting himself from Nicky’s hold. Vic watched Gray’s face as he stared down at Nicky, then bent to kiss his forehead before straightening. He’d sure never seen Terry act that way in all the time he and Nicky had been together. Despite the pangs of jealousy Vic still felt every time he saw Gray with Nicky, he was happy that Gray treated Nicky well.
“I’d better get moving. I’ve got a long day tomorrow,” Gray said. Nicky stirred at the sound of his voice, and Gray turned and gently stroked Nicky’s hair until he settled again.
Vic stood to walk him out. “Thanks again for making dinner.”
“No problem. I wish I didn’t have to leave. Do you think he’ll be okay here, tomorrow?”
“I don’t start my new job for another month, so he won’t be alone, and River’s planning to come by after work. Said Nicky owed him a rematch. Guess he got trounced the last few games they played.”
Gray had to smile at that. “Good. I was kinda worried about him being here, with no one to keep an eye on him.”
“He’s stubborn, but I don’t think he’ll try anything too difficult, at least until the cast comes off.”
“Here’s hoping,” Gray said, chuckling softly as he picked up his keys. “Can you tell him I’ll see him Wednesday morning?”
“Sure thing. It’s gotta suck on gas, all the back and forth.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t miss a moment of the time I get to spend with him.”
Vic locked the door, then settled back in his chair and loaded another movie. The television was on low and, in truth, he was hardly watching it. Instead, his eyes were on Nicky, watching his friend as he slept. He was grateful Nicky was home and hoped his attitude would improve. It had been getting worse ever since Terry had popped into the hospital to see him.
Reaching out a hand, Vic smoothed the blanket over Nicky, marveling at how handsome he was, even with scars. It was no wonder that people’s eyes riveted to Nicky as soon as he stepped into a room. With his tanned skin and long hair, he was everyone’s wet dream of how California boys were supposed to look. Then you got to those eyes, the brilliant green so expressive and bright. Vic had lost count of the numerous times he’d been distracted by them and forgotten to follow a conversation.
“Love you,” Vic whispered, and then stepped back from the bed.
He turned off the television and thought about heading upstairs, but he feared Nicky might need him in the middle of the night and would be too stubborn to call out for him. Grabbing a blanket, Vic got as comfortable as he could in one of the easy chairs and closed his eyes, though sleep was a long time coming.
***
In the days that followed, Nicky found being home both a blessing and a curse. He was glad he didn’t have to eat the damned hospital food anymore. How they expected people to want to eat when everything was soft and tasteless was beyond him. The only good thing about it was that even with all his inactivity, he hadn’t gained any weight. It was bad enough to be all busted up; the last thing he needed on top of it was to get fat too.
Too bad home meant Vic constantly watching over him, rushing to get him things when he thought Nicky needed them. He was kinda pissed that Vic had put off starting his new job; he felt like he was holding his friend back. Dammit, he hated not being able to do basic shit for himsel
f, like walk to the kitchen and make a sandwich. He was glad when Vic announced that he was going to pick up some groceries and run some errands. At least that would give Nicky time to sulk in peace.
And make a sandwich.
Determined, Nicky waited until Vic had driven away before tackling the logistics of it. He’d thought long and hard and had decided that using the rolling living room chair would be better than the damned wheelchair Vic had brought home for him. No way was he sitting in that thing if he didn’t have to. Only problem was that the chair was halfway across the room. Nicky sat for several minutes glaring at it. There was no way, with one good arm and one good leg, that he was gonna get anywhere easily. He couldn’t even hold on to things in order to get his balance.
Nicky stared at the wheelchair and cussed his life, then took it back because he knew he was lucky to be alive. All of the doctors had been optimistic that he’d walk again, maybe even without a limp, but then what? What was he gonna do? Who was he gonna be? He’d loved racing since he was a kid. That was all he’d ever wanted to do.
Closing his eyes, he thought back to the first race he’d ever watched.
Perched on his father’s shoulders, arms waving as the riders soared over the jumps and kicked up dirt as they sped around the track, Nicky cheered as loudly as those around him. Race after race he and his father would pick a bike to cheer for, Nicky’s eyes glued to the bright colors of the racing leathers and the mud-splattered bikes. More fascinating, however, was the freestyle. Watching a rider backflip, arms extended, body beneath the bike, rotating, then landing perfectly back in the seat before rushing into the next trick had left him wide-eyed with wonder. He cheered himself hoarse as rider after rider had used every inch of the machine to perform. Hanging off it, folding themselves over the handlebars, even letting go during a jump and then gracefully grabbing hold and landing.
“I want a dirt bike,” he pleaded, hugging tight to his father’s neck as they returned to the car.
