by E M Lindsey
Wyatt reached for Mat and smiled when Mat stepped into his hand. The car really was directly outside—the driver someone who had driven for Wyatt before, and he made pleasant conversation on the way there. He found a spot near the front entrance then told them to text his phone when they were ready for the ride back.
“God, it must be nice to be so charming. All the drivers here hate my guts,” Mat told him.
Wyatt’s brows rose behind his glasses. “I have a hard time believing that.”
“I think it’s the resting murder face. And probably all the tats. And my gauges. Plus, I come across like an idiot when I get flustered, which is a lot.”
Wyatt couldn’t stop himself from reaching for Mat, seizing his wrist and pulling it right to his nose. Wyatt had never been able to see fine detail, but lifting his shades, he could see the cascading, thick lines all the way up Mat’s arm in swirls and shapes he couldn’t quite understand. “It doesn’t intimidate me,” he said finally.
Mat was quiet a moment, then laughed and shoved at his shoulder. “Cute. Come on, you dragged me here, you’re paying.”
Wyatt had no issue with that, since he’d intended on it, and he threw in a sting-ray feeding with admission just for fun. They were given entrance, Wyatt pocketing the little audio device, and he took a breath, the familiar scent of too many people, salt water, and bad food.
“So obviously I can’t read shit, but it looks like the tunnel’s that way and I think that would be fun. Want to do it?”
Wyatt chuckled and squeezed his hand. “Yes. I absolutely do.”
To be fair, as much as Wyatt did enjoy the aquarium, most of it was lost on him. There was a massive room with a floor to ceiling tank, and he could make out the soft blue glow, and the dark shapes of fish swimming. The audio tour was fucked since they’d gone the opposite direction of the starting point, but he stopped caring at the sound of Mat’s rumbling voice describing what he was seeing.
“Oh, hell yes, seahorses,” Mat said, dragging Wyatt toward the wall. Wyatt felt out with his hands, finding a round-shaped viewing hole, but whatever was inside was too small and didn’t have nearly enough contrast for him to see. “I’ve always loved these.”
“I don’t think I know what they look like,” Wyatt admitted.
“They’re super fucking weird,” Mat said, and leaned into Wyatt’s side. “I think I love them because they’re such an anomaly. They don’t look like anything else I’ve ever seen, and they have these fins that look like wings—they honestly should have been called sea dragons or something, because that’s what they remind me of. And the males carry the babies.”
Wyatt let out a small laugh. “I do think I remember learning that in biology.”
“I always kind of wanted that,” Mat admitted after a moment of silence.
Wyatt’s brows flew up. “To carry babies?”
Mat snorted a laugh and elbowed him gently. “No. To be born an anomaly instead of forced into being one. God, this probably sounds so fucking insensitive, but if I’d been born with my brain like this—it…I don’t know…”
“It wouldn’t feel like such a loss,” Wyatt offered softly.
Mat let out a small, pained sound. “Yeah. I guess. Does that make me a huge dick?”
Wyatt ran his fingers down Mat’s shoulder, letting their palms link together, and he squeezed. The more time he spent here, the harder he fell, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull back. “No. It makes sense. I feared loss for a very long time, to the point it almost destroyed me when everything came crashing down. Then I lost my husband, my dog, my family…”
“Your family abandoned you after all that?” Mat asked, a tinge of heat in his voice.
Wyatt stroked his thumb along the side of Mat’s finger. “No. Not…exactly. But it was either lose them or let them control my every move, and I couldn’t live like that either. In the end, I’m glad for it, but it was hard at first. The night I stepped foot in Fairfield, I was seconds away from calling my brother and running back home.”
“But you didn’t,” Mat said quietly.
Wyatt smiled. “I didn’t. I met Ruby, and she seemed genuinely happy to get to know me. Then I met James and well…”
“We all know how that story ends. He did the same thing to me. He came to my art show that the museum was putting on for disabled artists, then he insulted me when I said my art wasn’t that good.”
Wyatt snorted. “He didn’t.”
“To be fair, he didn’t know it was mine. But the way he talked to me—like I was a person, instead of the sum of my head injury or my speech problems, it made all the difference. I didn’t want to leave, and when I had to, coming back wasn’t really a choice anymore.”
Mat went quiet, and Wyatt could hear the soft sounds of the man-made wave pool outside where they’d be able to dip in their fingers and touch. He’d wanted to explore that most of all when they arrived, but now he wanted nothing more than to keep standing there with Mat’s palm against his own.
“I like that I can understand you,” Wyatt said eventually. “I like that you understand me. I’m glad we’re…” He hesitated on the word, then swallowed. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Yeah,” Mat said, and there was a weight to his voice that Wyatt was too afraid to ask about, because he was too afraid to hope anymore. “Me too.”
Wyatt breathed out, and closed his eyes, and hung on.
Chapter Nine
“Look, sir, we can’t process the appointment until you can verify the information is correct,” the exasperated woman at the front desk told him.
Mat’s face was hot with rage and frustration. He understood that his condition was fairly rare, but he’d expected a little more understanding at the neurologist’s office after he politely explained that he wasn’t able to verify the information on his contact sheet. “Look, if you can just read it to me, or if you have like an audio file I can listen to…”
“You’re not visually impaired,” she said in a clipped tone.
Mat pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not.” And as much as he felt like a dick for thinking it, sometimes he thought things would be a lot easier if he was. A visible disability would at least save him the trouble of trying to explain that some shithead who was texting behind the wheel had cut his life into tiny fragments and he was only able to piece together the shards that were big enough to find. “But I still can’t read.”
“Do you have a companion with you?” she asked. “I have to help the other patients behind you, and this is holding up my line.”
Mat’s teeth clenched together and he took a step back. “Cancel the fucking appointment.”
“There’s a thirty dollar cancellation fee,” she warned.
Mat leaned in toward her. “Try it, I dare you. The moment I explain that you refused to let me see the doctor because my head injury removed my ability to read, I think they might have something else to say about your fucking fee.”
Her gaze flickered down to his tattooed arms, and he fought the urge to punch something. He had yet another migraine coming on, and he could feel that sort of stutter in his brain that told him if he didn’t get somewhere calm and soon, he was going to start making no sense.
Turning on his heel, he stormed toward the door. She was calling after him, but Mat promptly ignored her and rushed out of the building. It wasn’t until the fresh air hit him that it felt like the weight had been removed from his chest. He was able to take in a full breath of air, and he closed his eyes against the sun.
It had been a rough year. Apart from being politely—but no less painfully—rejected by Wyatt before he was even able to come out, Ruby told him they had to stop sleeping together. She had her sights set on the florist—Derek’s new boyfriend’s sister, Amaranth—and she wanted to see if it was going somewhere.
In truth, Mat wasn’t too upset by that one. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a good time with Ruby—if the situation had been different, he thought they’d make
a great couple. But after the near-miss with Wyatt, Mat was feeling a pull to explore areas of himself that he’d always hidden away from the world.
Still, no one had caught his eye the way Wyatt had. The guy was funny and sweet, and he made a damn good friend, which Mat couldn’t take for granted. It wasn’t as though he was short of decent people in his life, but having experienced a near total abandonment by friends, family, and spouse, Mat was a little edgy about losing people.
Wyatt was taking the time to teach Mat braille, but Mat was nursing his wounds over the rejection and had been making excuses to avoid him as often as he could. Wyatt seemed a little subdued whenever he was around Mat after that night, but he never failed to at least spend time talking to him. Hell, they’d even partnered for poker a few more times.
“Hey, I’m your uber driver,” said the guy pulling up to the curb, startling Mat out of his thoughts. “Is this the right address?”
“No,” Mat said without bothering to try and look like he could read it. “I put in the wrong one.” He quickly rattled off James’ shop, and felt a little better when the car zoomed off to the little mechanic’s place tucked away behind a thick grove of trees.
He didn’t hang out at James’ shop often. He’d never really been great with cars, and the guys who worked for him got a little loud sometimes. With Mat’s increasing headaches, it was hard to be in spaces where his senses were overloaded, but right now, he just wanted to see his friend. Thursdays were usually slow, so he said a little prayer that James would have time for him.
When they pulled up, Mat breathed a sigh of relief when he saw there was only one car in the bay, and Mitch—James’ usual weekend guy—was already under the hood. Mat made sure his payment went through, then went through the office and into the back bay where James was usually found working on Tony’s beat up old Caddy, which was still mostly in parts.
He came to a halt in the doorway when he realized James wasn’t alone. Wyatt was there, sitting on a low stool next to James, and the pair of them were sanding down the side. Mat’s side banged against the door, and he offered a sheepish smile when James’ head whipped around and his eyes widened.
“Hey. Sorry to just drop by,” he told his friend.
James stood up. “Holy shit, Matty. You’re white as a ghost. Are you going to pass out on me?”
At the sound of Mat’s name, Wyatt was on his feet instantly, gripping the car to keep oriented. His face was a mask of worry, and Mat touched his cheeks as he realized he was a little dizzy. “Uh,” he said. He shook his head, then the world swam. “Shit.”
James rushed to his side and got Mat into a chair, easing him down. “Have you eaten today?”
Mat wracked his brain, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. “I think I had breakfast,” he told James, but the look on his friend’s face said that the words came out very wrong. “F-fuck,” he said. And there went the stammer. Fucking bitch receptionist.
“I’m going to get you some water and food, okay?” James told him. “Niko brought over this cheesy pasta thing he wants to try out at the restaurant. It’s super carb-y, so it should help. Hey Wy, can you sit with Mat for a minute. Make sure he doesn’t crack his head if he faints?”
Wyatt looked even more worried. “Of course,” he said in a rush.
“About fifteen steps directly in front of you. Twelve o’clock,” James said, then hurried out of the room.
Mat watched, subdued and a little floaty as Wyatt counted his steps. He ended when his knee made contact with Mat’s thigh, and then he touched Mat’s shoulder as he crouched down. “What can I do?” Wyatt asked in a quiet tone.
Mat shook his head. “I don’t know if,” he said, very slow so he could make sure his words were right, “if I can speak properly right now.”
“You sound okay,” Wyatt said. “A minute ago…”
Mat let out a rough laugh. “Happens. Like a glitch in my brain.” He pressed two fingers against his temple, and lost himself in the steady warmth of Wyatt’s hand on him. “Bad day.”
“Seems like it,” Wyatt said with a faint smile. “Did you get into a fight? Are you sick?”
“Neither. S-sort of,” Mat said, his brain going a little fuzzy when he let himself think about the doctor’s office. “Just needed to get somewhere safe.”
“Why don’t we get to James’ office, eh? Can you walk? Or are you dizzy?” Wyatt said.
Mat checked himself and breathed out with relief. The headache was still there, but the vertigo was passing. “I think I’m good. You want my arm?”
Wyatt chuckled softly. “I think that would be best. This place is…a little bit like a maze of dangerous power tools.”
“Does that make you crazy or brave to be wandering around, then?” Mat asked as he started toward the bay doors.
Wyatt laughed again. “Bored, maybe?”
Mat shook his head as he led the way down the hall toward James’ office. He could hear the microwave going, and smell the rich spices he’d started growing accustomed to now that Niko was getting his restaurant off the ground. That, plus Wyatt’s hand on him, was grounding in a way he hadn’t expected. He knew today felt like a set-back, but right now, it was easy to remind himself he wasn’t alone.
“Hey,” James said, a scolding look on his face. His eyes raked over Mat and when he seemed satisfied that Mat wasn’t going to keel over, he pointed at the sofa. “Go. Sit. Wyatt can keep you company and you can eat. I’ll go talk to Mikey about closing up early.”
“Hey, no,” Mat protested, even as Wyatt gave him a soft push in the direction of the sofa, “you don’t need to do that. It was just a bad day. The woman at the neurologist’s front desk was giving me a hard time about not being able to verify my information and she wouldn’t let me go back for my appointment without signing it.”
“What?” James growled, his hands curling into fists. “Do I need to go down there?”
Mat sighed. “No. You need to calm your tits,” he insisted as he sank into the worn leather cushion. Wyatt sat next to him and Mat accepted the plate of food as James got his temper under control.
“Why didn’t you just sign it?” Wyatt asked.
James frowned. “Because he can’t fuckin’ read it.”
Wyatt huffed an annoyed sigh. “Yes, I understand, but why not just sign it anyway?”
Before James could go on his tirade of public service workers being dicks—one of his favorite rants—Mat started laughing. “I mean, I know it’s a brain thing why I didn’t just think of that, but that makes a lot of sense.”
Wyatt shrugged. “It’s what I do more often than not. They want me to read something or…look at something, I don’t know. And it’s obvious I’m blind, but they ask me anyway. So, I just give them what they want and they shut up.”
James looked annoyed, but also a little sheepish. “I guess that’s fair. I just think it’s bullshit.”
“A lot of things are bullshit,” Wyatt said, and Mat found he really enjoyed the way the words fell from Wyatt’s lips in his softly rounded accent. “But we do it anyway, save our energy for the important things.”
James pulled a face. “Y’all are way too sappy for me. I’m going to check on Mikey. But Mat, seriously, you okay?”
Mat nodded. “The headache is being a pain in the ass, but I feel better.” He took a bite of the food and sighed happily. “This is helping.”
James pushed to his feet and adjusted his stance before walking toward the door. “I’m going to tell Niko you showed up hungry. He’s going to feed you like a little old Jewish mom.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Mat groaned, but he said it with a grin. When James had disappeared, Mat leaned all the way back. “You want some of this?”
Wyatt shook his head with a grin. “James and I had dolma earlier, I’m stuffed. But thank you. You really should eat.”
“I know. Just…I’ve been getting these migraines lately, and the vertigo is making me nauseous.” He took another bite and chewed. “I s
houldn’t have walked out today. My doctor’s worried that I might have a clot or something. I’m at risk from the accident. This was my appointment before my MRI.”
Wyatt’s brow creased down in worry. “If it is a clot, what do they do?”
“Treat it as best they can. I’ll have to be careful, maybe cut back on work which sucks because I can’t afford shit,” he confessed. He had a tiny apartment and always made his bills on time, but just barely. It was strange to go from a well-off family, and from a future career that was supposed to make him wealthy, to paying disconnect notices and shopping in the ramen section. In all reality, he wouldn’t have changed it for the world, but sometimes it was a bitter pill to swallow.
“You didn’t get a settlement from your accident?” he asked.
Mat laughed. “I got some from my insurance, but it all went to pay bills. I had a few grand left over. But the asshole who hit me was underinsured. My parents filed a private suit when I was still pretty fucked up, but nothing came of it. I guess the asshole was so broke I wasn’t really going to see a dime. Someday if the guy wins the lottery, maybe,” he laughed. “But probably not.”
Wyatt spat something in French that Mat didn’t understand, then he shrugged and said, “It’s shit.”
Mat grinned. “It’s total shit. But I’m glad to be alive.” He suddenly remembered his late-night internet search from his last bout of insomnia and he put his plate down. “Oh, by the way. Va-t’en.”
Wyatt leaned back like he was startled, then he covered his face and laughed. “Tell me you understood that one.”
Mat grinned and folded his arms over his chest. “Yes. I picked that one up off a YouTube video. I don’t mean it though, please don’t actually go away.”
Wyatt smiled and leaned in, dropping his voice again. “Où as-tu caché tes ailes?”
Mat had no idea what it meant, but something about it struck him right in the chest and it took him a moment to catch his breath. “Uh. So…you gonna make me work hard for that one?”
