Gasp!

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “I…” Jeff gripped his phone tighter.

  “I should have said something while you were here. I should have talked to you at the airport, but it turns out I’m a bloody coward.”

  “Said what?”

  “I may be a right bastard. I love to party, and I get caught up in the moment and forget my friends. I’m selfish as fuck, and I have an ego like the bloody Tardis, it’s so much bigger on the inside. Everyone knows that. But when I’m with you, I want to be more than that empty, empty man.”

  Jeff already regretted some of the things he’d said while they were together but now… “Aw, Nigel. You’re a great guy. You just take some getting used to.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “The fact of the matter is I’ve changed more than I realized. Tonight I wanted to come back to the hotel and call you more than I wanted to do anything else on offer. And so we’re clear, this is Miami—anything and everything is on offer.”

  “I miss you too,” Jeff admitted. “Very much.”

  Pause. “That’s nice to hear.”

  “I miss you so much it hurts sometimes.”

  “What do you plan to do about it?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeff hedged. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m sure I won’t die”—Nigel sighed dramatically—“from waiting until you think of something.”

  “I can think of lots of things, but nothing seems reasonable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not reasonable for me to just follow you around, is it? What am I supposed to do? Sit in your hotel room all day, ordering room service and picking your clothes up off the floor? You get why that would be awkward, right?”

  “Yes. Of course I do.”

  “I need to earn my way. I can’t be dependent on some guy.”

  “For the record, I’m not just any guy. I take it you want to go to school.”

  “I don’t plan to tend bar forever.”

  “What will you study?”

  “Christ, I don’t know. I was a combat engineer. I guess I figured I’d build on my training?” The words came out like a question. Jeff hadn’t decided exactly what he’d study, only that he should study something, because a man had to have a career, right? Not just a job. “I was undeclared when I went to school before the army, but I thought about civil engineering. I wish I had a better plan than that.”

  “Can you find a way to study online?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Then why couldn’t you travel with me? As long as you have a computer and an Internet connection, you could go to school anywhere, right? Or when I’m done with this tour, I could take some time off. Go back to the studio. Work on something new.”

  Jeff had no answer for that except it seemed too easy. “I don’t want to be dependent on you for a roof over my head. I have to be able to contribute something.”

  Nigel was silent for a minute before he spoke. “Maybe you already contribute and you haven’t a clue.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just—”

  “All right then. No worries. I can see retreat is in order for now, because I don’t want to spend our time together arguing.”

  “That’s novel.”

  “Har, har. What did you do today?”

  Relieved, Jeff let Nigel change the subject. “I met with a peer counselor who walked me through the steps to see someone with the VA.”

  “How did that go?”

  “I’ll need to be medically evaluated, but they say there are ways they can help me with…whatever it is I have. The bad dreams.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Probably.”

  “Why shouldn’t it be?”

  “I guess I’m scared. What if they want to put me on drugs? I’ve seen what happens, a guy starts on a low dose of something to get some sleep or for depression, and then that just causes a shitload of other stuff and the next thing you know he’s on disability and—”

  “You don’t know that’s going to happen. You might not need medication at all.”

  “I don’t have mental problems. I just have bad dreams.”

  “Look, that’s enough for now. There’s no point in getting ahead of yourself. I understand your concern, but you’re not alone and I’m not without resources.”

  “You may not be without resources, but I have to go through the VA and—”

  “Nonsense. You start at the VA, right? And if you feel like you need something they don’t offer, you want a second opinion or even a third, we’ll find you another doctor—”

  “I can’t accept your help for that; you know I can’t. Besides the fact that it’s inappropriate for me to mooch off my lover, I would feel bad taking help that’s not available to other vets. Do you understand?”

  “I do, but if you need it, you’ll take it and that’s that.”

  “Oh it is, is it?” Jeff’d had enough of feeling pushed around. “How has it worked for you so far, getting me to do things I don’t want to do?”

  “It’s worked bloody well as I recall, Yellow Hat Man.”

  Jeff winced at that.

  “Don’t make me go over your head, soldier,” Nigel warned.

  “You will not discuss my private affairs with my sister.”

  “I’ll not only discuss them with your sister, I’ll call in your mum if I have to. They’re family, like it or not—both yours and mine—so we’ll talk this over together, and if you don’t listen to reason, I’ll let the ladies handle it. There’s a reason Kipling said the female of the species is more deadly than the male, and there’s a time and place to exploit that fact. They’ll sort you right out. I won’t have to lift a finger.”

  “Like I’m crazy.”

  “Like you’re loved. You understand that, don’t you? We love you.”

  Jeff’s voice betrayed his surprise. “Thank you.”

  “I—” Nigel cleared his throat. “I’m in love with you, Jeff. I have been from almost the beginning. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you the best care possible, whether you bloody well like it or not, because I love you.”

  Jeff stared at the phone, speechless for a time. “You love me?”

  “Of course I do. Truth or dare me. I’ve never lied to you, not once. I love you, and I want to help. I want to be with you. I want to see your smile every morning instead of the sodding anonymous hotel staff and—”

  “That sounds pretty nice, actually.” Jeff closed his eyes.

  A long silence fell between them during which Jeff was acutely aware he hadn’t said I love you in return. But if—when—Jeff told Nigel Hazard he loved him, it would be face-to-face and without the shadow of possible mental instability hanging over them.

  Nigel spoke first. “I know it’s hard right now, but we’ll sort this out.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff let his doubts go with a sigh.

  “All right then. Change of pace.” He let out a deep sigh. “I am a ferocious desert sheikh who has captured a handsome young Foreign Legion officer. Give over, habibi. Oh, thou pale, muscled captive, I—”

  “Does it have to be the desert?” Jeff relaxed back into his pillows. “I fucking hate the desert, and it’s hot as hell in my apartment. “

  “Adds realism. Play along.”

  Jeff slipped his hand into his sleep pants. “All I have is a lousy window air conditioner—”

  “Do you want to complain or do you want to get off, because in my head I already have your reluctant virgin lips wrapped around my thick, meaty—”

  “All right already. Let me catch up.” Jeff didn’t have any trouble imagining getting on his knees for Nigel’s amorous sheikh. He imagined pressing his face into the steamy folds of Nigel’s silken tob. He wondered what Nigel would be wearing beneath his robes, and if he’d hide his hair under a kaffiyeh or whether he’d stand there before him with his hair unbound, hanging around his shoulders.

&
nbsp; Just as he was picturing crossed leather belts and ornately bejeweled knives, Nigel interrupted his thoughts.

  “Bloody hell.”

  “What?”

  “I have to take a call from Her Majesty.”

  Jeff’s yanked his hand out of his pants. “The queen of England?”

  “Your sister. She’s unleashed the kraken.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a 911-emergency pick-up-the-phone text message in code so I must, must go. We’ll take this up again later, habibi, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be here. Call me. Let me know what’s going on.”

  “I will. Stay primed. It might be nothing.”

  “Roger that. I will await your word, oh great one.” Jeff hung up with a smile.

  * * *

  A SERIES OF sharp raps on the door had Nigel scrambling from bed to answer before he could even call Deidre back. Amil stood outside thumbing a message into his own phone, and seconds later Nigel received a text from him as well.

  “What the hell?” Nigel asked. “Why is everyone exploding my phone?”

  “It’s Hazard.” Amil’s expression was grim. “He’s headed to the ER, and Deidre and Katje are with him. You’re to follow with me.”

  “What?” Nigel’s heart froze. “What’s happened?”

  “He's having trouble breathing. Katje called 911 because the area around his mouth”—Amil gestured with his hand, as though Nigel wouldn’t understand without sign language—“was turning blue. They’ve taken him to Miami Children’s Hospital. It’s not far.”

  “I thought he had a simple cold. How could—“

  “I'm sure Deidre will explain.”

  “Let’s go.” Nigel didn’t hesitate. He rushed out the door, closing it behind him without a thought for anything but Hazard. He was halfway to the elevator when Amil called him back.

  “Sir?”

  “What are you waiting for? Come on.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but they’re unlikely to let you into a hospital unless you’re wearing shoes.”

  “Bloody hell.” Nigel glanced down at his feet. “I don’t have my wallet or my key card either.”

  “Fortunately I have the spare, sir.” Amil swiped the card to let him in. “I suggest you dress comfortably. Given the nature of hospitals, you may have a long wait.”

  “Thank you, Amil.” Nigel headed for his bedroom, where he jammed his feet into a pair of trainers and pulled on a button-down shirt and jacket. He put his wallet and his key card into his pocket. As an afterthought he glanced into the mirror, touching his fingers to Jeff’s dog tags. When they made their familiar clanking sound against his skin, next to his heart, a sense of calm came over him.

  “Ready?” Amil held the suite’s door open for him. As Nigel strode out into the hallway, he tried speed-dialing Deidre’s phone. The call went straight to voice mail—she’d likely turned it off at the hospital.

  “Were you there when Deidre called 911?” Nigel asked Amil.

  “No, I arrived after the paramedics. They were stabilizing Hazard and readying him for transport.”

  “Did they say anything? Did they explain what was wrong?”

  “Only that Hazard should be taken to Miami Children’s Hospital because they’d be better prepared to treat him than any of the other area hospitals.” Amil kept his face carefully neutral. He wasn’t a concerned friend; he was a professional driver who had mastered hiding his thoughts.

  “I see.” Nigel pressed the button to call the elevator, and when it came, he stepped calmly aboard. If he’d ever had the slightest doubts about his ability to act, they were eradicated by how serene he appeared in the mirrored walls, even as his anxiety skyrocketed. “How did Hazard look, exactly?”

  “I’m not a doctor. People are often overly cautious with a child Hazard’s age. I’m sure that’s what’s happening here.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Hazard is in very good hands, sir.”

  “Thank you, Amil.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Nigel followed Amil across the nearly deserted lobby to the revolving door. He scarcely acknowledged the handful of people who pulled out their phones to take his picture. Amil helped turn away autograph seekers. The SUV waited outside. Amil must have reasoned it would be faster to abandon the niceties—he slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine in one smooth move while Nigel practically threw himself into the back. He hadn’t even buckled his belt before they edged away from the curb and headed into the driving rain.

  Amil glanced at Nigel in the mirror. Had he sussed out Nigel was Hazard’s father? The resemblance was obvious to Jeff. Was it obvious to anyone else? Or was it simply clearer now that Hazard was holding his head up and gazing around with eyes the same color as Nigel’s?

  Did everyone know, and were they being polite and avoiding the topic?

  How would Deidre handle the fact that—like it or not—people wouldn’t consider Hazard to be hers and Katje’s alone? How would she take it if he asked for more time, more responsibility, more say in what Hazard knew about him and how Hazard grew up?

  The possibility was as compelling as it was painful. He’d never begun to realize how much he could love a child. He’d never wanted a child of his own—had never even considered fatherhood. But now that fatherhood had been thrust on him, he couldn’t undo the way it made him feel.

  Nigel Gasp was selfish. He’d been called a narcissist by experts. At the very least he’d always been deeply, deeply shallow.

  Historically Nigel Gasp had always been the most important person in Nigel Gasp’s life.

  Only now was it apparent to him how utterly, how completely a handful of Paxtons had changed all that.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Amil drove at top legal speed while rain spattered intermittently around them. The quickening wind blew palm trees around, and sometimes it was necessary to dodge debris. The hospital looked nothing like Nigel imagined. Even through the rain it was brightly lit, and from the looks of it, in the daytime it would be colorful. At night the front portico, where Amil stopped to let him out, looked like some kind of space station. Nigel left the car with Amil and dashed into the building, where he followed the signs to registration.

  “I’m looking for Hazard Alley Paxton,” Nigel said. “He would have been brought into casualty just now.”

  “Casualty?”

  “Emergency,” Nigel amended. “He’s a baby. He’s only three months old and—”

  “I’ll check the system. Are you family?”

  “I’m—” Nigel hesitated. In the time it took for him to think of the answer—did he say I’m Hazard’s biological father; did he say I’m a friend of the family—the whispering behind him began. Two girls in scrubs who couldn’t have been more than twenty gaped at him before one came to her senses and snapped a picture of him with a cell phone. Nigel ignored them. “I’m here to support the baby’s parents.”

  The woman behind the desk also excoriated the two would-be paparazzi with a look and turned to face him again as the girls slunk past. She continued typing and scrolling and glancing up at him. Her fingernails tapped on the keys in a way that irritated him, down deep. He could tell he was going to have trouble controlling his reaction to it.

  A sick feeling of desperation flooded him. “Hazard Alley Paxton.” Nigel spelled the name. “His mothers will be here, Deidre and Katje Paxton? Just tell me where I might find them.”

  “When was he admitted?”

  “Just now, probably. My driver came to get me immediately.”

  “Then you should probably head directly to the ER.” She briefly described how to get there. “I’m sure they’ll have more information.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nigel headed in the direction she’d sent him. He traveled a labyrinth of hallways, brightly painted with murals of animals, out an exit door, and then back in again. At Emergency reception, he was told he’d have to wait until Hazard’s parents ca
me out to talk to him.

  He found himself nodding and murmuring his agreement to stand on the sidelines and wait, even though waiting for anything was as antithetical to his personality as wearing a hair shirt or attending a prayer meeting at the Westboro Baptist Church.

  Nigel sat down in a chair and took out his phone to call Jeff. He was prepared to wait as long as it took to find out what he needed to know, but if he could hear Jeff’s voice…

  “Sir, you can’t use your cell phone inside the hospital,” the receptionist reminded him.

  “Ah.” Nigel sighed. “Of course not. Sorry.”

  He sprinted outside again.

  Jeff gripped the phone tightly. “Wait. Say that again?” His heart dropped out of his chest, landed somewhere in the base of his spine, and exploded. “Hazard was turning—”

  “Amil said his lips turned blue.” Nigel spoke as if the words tore him inside out. “They called EMS right away. He’s at Miami Children’s Hospital. Deidre and Katje are with him now. I had to come outside to call you, but I can’t talk for long. We’re having filthy weather. I have to wait until they show up with more information.”

  “Wait. Did you see him?”

  “No. His parents are with him.”

  “But—” Jeff paused. “You’re his father.”

  “I wanked into a cup. Even I know it takes more than that to be a father.” Nigel’s composure cracked. “He’s not—he’s not my son, not really.”

  “At least ask for Deidre and tell her you need to be kept in the loop. Or ask Katje, if you think Deidre is too wound up to understand. Don’t let yourself be left out, Nigel. I’m sure no one wants that.”

  Nigel toed the floor. “I don’t want to cause trouble while—”

  “Now? You say that now, when you normally cause trouble without giving it a second thought? You have every right to find out what’s going on.”

  “From what Amil said, Hazard is fighting for every breath he takes, and I don’t want to do anything that might cause a distraction. The important thing is that Hazard is cared for. We’ll talk about minutiae later.”

  “You are not minutiae.”

  “Thank you.” Nigel’s voice broke.