Did he not plan on coming back? Hadn’t they agreed he would return this evening? They were supposed to talk. Weren’t they?
Maybe Ian thought there was no point. Josh grimaced. He hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to reassure Ian, but he’d had no reassurances to give; not with the shock of Marcus appearing at his door, throwing everything he’d thought he wanted into question.
Did Ian actually believe Josh would abandon him so easily? Just drop everything and fly back to New York with Marcus without a word? Josh flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. But why wouldn’t he? Ian had been the chaser from the beginning and Josh the chasee. Josh had made no effort in all the time they’d known each other.
While it might have been too soon to say, Hey, Ian, let’s make a life together, at some point, he could have at least said, Hey, Ian, let’s go out to dinner sometime.
“So what do you want?” he asked the ceiling. While the ceiling had no good answers for him, Josh was pretty sure he didn’t want Marcus, and he didn’t want to work in his old hospital in New York.
Working as a concierge doctor was fine. Who could complain about good money and a light schedule? Working in the emergency room here with Aguto and all the other people he’d already met produced a definite spike of pleasant excitement, tinged slightly with anxiety.
Working in the clinic . . . surprisingly brought feelings similar to working in the ER.
Working with Ian . . . Working with him, playing with him, cooking breakfast with him . . . “Well, hell.”
He needed to find Ian. But first, he needed to stop by the hospital. He and Aguto had a few things to discuss.
After going around back to check that the rear door stood undamaged and locked, Ian went to the front, entering through the familiar glass door. The clinic sat eerily empty. Although he’d been here plenty of times by himself, he’d never stood in silence with the doors locked, and the Closed sign posted.
His motorcycle was the only vehicle in the lot. Maybe it had been a mistake, but he’d called an Uber instead of Lucia. He couldn’t face her right now. The clinic, Josh . . . She’d be all over that. She’d feel guilty about the clinic being on the verge of closure, and angry at Josh, even though the clinic wasn’t her fault and whatever Josh decided was nothing to be mad about either. Sad, yes. But angry? If Josh chose his old life and the happiness he’d once had, no one could blame him.
That didn’t stop Ian from feeling sorry for himself or wondering . . . if he’d tried harder . . . if he’d had a little something to help him through the long nights at work and then at the clinic . . . if he’d been more successful . . . would Josh have stayed?
Wandering through the waiting room and then into the clinic area, he ran a shaking finger along the exam bed. Old, but clean and serviceable. He remembered when he’d gotten it as a donation from one of the doctor’s offices in town. And the centrifuge . . . that had come from the blood bank. The computer that Gabriel used so much had been dropped off by a guy with his own small electronics repair shop.
Ian knew where he’d gotten each piece of equipment and every drug in the locked cabinet. A lot of people had donated to get this place off the ground and to keep it running, and he’d failed them all.
Looking down the hall at the supply room door— No, he couldn’t bear to see that devastation. He dashed a hand across his eyes. Not enough funding, not enough volunteers. Not fast enough, not efficient enough. Not good enough.
“Damn it,” he choked out in a low, agonized whisper, and ran back to the waiting room. He stopped abruptly, staring at the battered gray filing cabinet. Even with the computer, a lot of paperwork had accumulated over the years. All those files, all those people they’d done their best to help . . . All those papers should be shredded. The computer files deleted. For the sake of patient privacy, he’d erase any evidence of the drug addicts, the prostitutes, the gang members, the petty thief who’d torn his thigh open going over a fence . . . Deleted. Like the last two years of his life.
“Goddamn it,” he yelled and landed a kick on the file cabinet, then another.
The cabinet tilted, then hit the cracked linoleum, the crash reverberating through the empty space. He slammed out the door, hearing the lock click as the door closed behind him, and ran for his bike. He needed . . . something. He just needed.
Speaking to Aguto had taken longer than Josh expected. He’d been roped into lunch with her and a couple of board members who’d happened to be at the hospital for a meeting.
Not a waste of time, but now it was well into the afternoon, and Ian wasn’t answering his phone. After leaving the second message, Josh thought about calling Lucia. If she’d picked Ian up this morning, she should know where he was, unless the idiot had talked her into taking him to his bike. He didn’t have her number, but he’d bet Gabriel did.
Before leaving the hospital, he headed over to the Behavioral Health wing, but apparently even Gabriel occasionally took a Saturday off.
A nagging worry tightened his belly. Ian had kept his face turned away from Josh this morning as he’d gathered his things. And those sunglasses . . . Who did he think he was fooling? But rather than embarrass him in front of Marcus, Josh had let him go. Now he feared that had been a mistake, but he’d been eager to get rid of Marcus, and he’d thought Ian would be back.
Josh climbed into his car and then sat clutching the wheel. Where would Ian go?
As he drove, he debated calling Gabriel for Lucia’s number. But then what would he tell her? Hi, Lucia, your brother fled my house all upset and now he’s not answering his phone? That wouldn’t be a cause for heart-stopping concern when it came to most people, but when they were talking about Ian . . .
The EMS station was closest, east of Ian’s house, but not much of a detour. He wanted to know if Ian’s bike was there. The bay doors were open when he arrived, the place empty. The small lot held a few cars, but no bike.
The clinic was farther than Ian’s house, and he’d intended to go there last, but would Ian really go straight home to be alone?
Turning for the clinic, Josh fought the uneasiness that had his heart racing. Why would Ian not answer his phone? Was he ignoring Josh? Or everyone? Surely they hadn’t parted on such poor terms that Ian would refuse to even talk to him.
No bike at the clinic either. That was a surprise. He’d been sure he’d find Ian there, all brooding and depressed about closing the clinic, but the parking lot was deserted. Ian could have pulled his bike inside though. Damn it, if he’d been riding that thing. . . If Ian didn’t succeed in killing himself on that thing, Josh just might finish the job.
Josh parked and headed for the glass doors. He tried the handles, but the door was secure despite the deep scratches and dents around the handle, clear evidence of the attempted break-in Gabriel had mentioned. Josh looked around uneasily, his spine prickling, but saw no one.
Peering inside past the crack in the plate glass, he gasped when he saw the filing cabinet on its side, papers spilling out of the open drawers. Christ, had thieves gotten in after all?
But the door was locked. So . . . “Ah, hell, Ian. What the fuck are you doing?” He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. “Where are you?”
That dented filing cabinet screamed frustration. With Ian this angry, there were only two real possibilities. He pulled out his phone and clicked on the map app.
Back in the car, he headed out, following the map’s directions even as mounting anxiety threatened to eat a hole in his stomach. He used the car’s Bluetooth to try to call Ian again. Still no answer.
Cursing, he clicked off the phone, and then took a deep, steadying breath. No need to panic. There could be a dozen reasons why Ian had turned off his phone, some good and some bad, or there was a simple accident, like running out of power. Maybe Lucia hadn’t packed his charger. Or maybe she had, and Ian had forgotten to plug it in. Maybe he didn’t want to be interrupted and he’d turned off the ringer—that could be good or bad.
> Maybe, maybe, maybe . . .
Even with the help of the phone’s navigation, Josh was unsure of his route. He missed more than one turn on his way to an area of town he’d never visited. This dark, unfamiliar street took him far from the beaches, the tourist areas, and the homes of the wealthy.
Most of the buildings along this way seemed to be low-rent offices and warehouses, dark and silent now. The occasional barred convenience store or small, dark dive bar broke up the gloom with faint light. At least, he thought they were bars. The fronts were ill lit and the few signs impossible to read. He saw a lone customer enter one, and another leaving. Neither spared him a glance, despite the fact that he was driving at the snail’s pace of someone who clearly had no idea where he was going.
I hope I’m moving in the right direction. He took a deep breath. I hope I’m right about a lot of things. The thought felt almost like a prayer.
Finally, Josh pulled into a space by a dimly lit building and then sat for a minute, his heart racing. He had so much to tell Ian, so many plans and hopes for their future. But would Ian agree? Did he want the same future that Josh did? And what if he couldn’t find Ian here?
Josh swallowed hard and got out of the car. Leaving it, he followed a walkway toward the low building set back from the street. A few shadows moved behind the window. He stood outside the door with his hand on the knob and his heart racing. Then he jerked it open and anxiously scanned the hall.
Ian. Here, at a meeting. Relief flooded Josh, and he had to lean against the doorjamb. Thank God. Although Ian looked unhappy as he spoke to an older woman, he appeared just fine.
If he’d only answered his damn phone, he could have saved Josh a hell of a lot of worry. Josh straightened, glaring at him.
The movement must have caught Ian’s eye. He glanced up, and his face lit with astonishment and pleasure. “Josh?” He jumped to his feet.
“There you are.” Josh marched over to their table. “I’ve been calling and calling!”
“I had to turn off my phone during the meeting. How did you find me?”
“Where else would you go after beating up a poor, defenseless filing cabinet?”
“Damn.” Ian rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “You saw that?”
“Yeah, I saw that. I went to the clinic and saw your bike was gone.” He poked Ian in his chest, and not gently either. “I told you not to ride your bike. You don’t get over a concussion in a couple of days, not enough to ride a motorcycle. Those things are dangerous at the best of times and—”
“Josh.” Ian grabbed him around the waist, his face lighting with a smile. “What are you doing here?”
The warm, strong grip on his waist sent an immediate flare of heat up Josh’s spine. Then Ian seemed to realize what he was doing and started to pull away.
To hell with that. Josh gripped Ian’s shoulders. “You were supposed to come back.” Glaring into Ian’s eyes, Josh snapped, “Didn’t I tell you to come back?”
Ian’s smile vanished. “I . . . I saw the way he looked at you.” He swallowed with an audible click. “You could go with him, go back to the life you had. I thought—”
“I told you to come back. Christ, do you listen to me at all?”
A snort from the woman at the table interrupted them. “Believe me, hon, I know how you feel.” She rose from the table, holding out her hand.
Ian dropped his hands from Josh’s waist. “This is Marianne, my sponsor.”
“Oh.” Josh smiled at her. He owed this woman a lot. They both did. He shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Josh Parker.”
“I’ve heard all about you, son.”
He beamed at her. “You have?”
“This one’s been moping around ever since he met you.”
“Marianne,” Ian objected.
“He’s supposed to tell me this stuff,” Marianne said to Josh, her voice low and confidential. “But I want you to know, it gets a bit tiresome.” She gave a firm nod. “So you all work it out, you hear? I gotta run.”
She headed for the door, passing the church attendant who jingled his keys suggestively.
“Come on,” Ian said to Josh. “I like to see her to her car.” They had to hurry to catch up with Marianne, and then they waved after her as she sped away.
In the now deserted parking lot, Josh gazed up at Ian as the rising moon illuminated their faces. They stared at each other for a long moment in the sudden silence.
“You shouldn’t have been so worried about me,” Ian said quietly. He touched the medals through his shirt. “I won’t put my family through that again. If you can’t—” His breath caught.
“Can’t what?” Josh moved closer, placing a hand squarely in the center of Ian’s chest, right over the medals. “Trust you?”
Ian gave a jerky nod but didn’t move away.
“I’m here, at this church. Why do you think I’m here?”
“Because . . .” He drew in a shaky breath. “Because . . . you knew I’d come here instead of doing something stupid.”
“I knew.” Josh patted Ian’s chest, stopping to play with the medals though his shirt. Josh smiled at the strain on Ian’s face. His reaction to Josh’s touch mirrored Josh’s, the heat rolling from their bodies and the warm spark of electricity they’d both felt since that first touch.
Ian caught his hand and held it still. “Wait. I had a point to make, damn it.”
“Oh? I’m waiting.”
“I was never going to do something stupid,” Ian said. “That’s not why I came here.”
“I get it. You find comfort here, among the people who have helped you. The people you’ve helped.”
“Yeah.” Sounding relieved, he leaned forward for a kiss, but Josh pulled his hand away and slipped out of Ian’s arms.
Backing away, Josh said, “I’m not making out with you in a church parking lot.”
Ian folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, then. So what the hell is going on?”
“We need to talk. But not here,” Josh added. “And no, you can’t ride your bike.”
“I’m not leaving it here. This is not the best neighborhood.”
“Ian . . .”
“The clinic is nearby. I’ll ride it there and lock it up inside. That means you’ll have to give me a ride home.”
“How very convenient.”
Ian raised an eyebrow. “Or I could ride my bike home now.”
“No. I . . . No. I’m just grumpy. I’ve been trying to reach you since Marcus left.”
“He’s gone?” Ian’s eyes went wide, like he could hardly believe it. Like he hardly dared hope.
Josh’s voice softened. “He’s on a plane back to New York.”
“And you’re not.”
“No.” He smiled slowly, feeling his eyes going heavy-lidded.
“So no Marcus?”
“No Marcus,” Josh assured him and then shook his head at the almost comical relief on Ian’s face.
Ian pulled out of the church parking lot with Josh following him in that brown Ford he’d probably already paid more for in rental fees than a new one would have cost him. Reluctantly, he took the shorter route on the highway toward the clinic, bypassing his usual fun on the pitted back road where he’d almost ditched. He didn’t think Josh would appreciate that road right at the moment. Or maybe ever, but that was okay. Nobody was perfect.
Rolling over the cracked pavement, Ian stopped and dismounted in front of the clinic. Josh’s headlights briefly illuminated the door as Ian unlocked it, before Josh cut them off and followed him inside.
Ian pushed his bike through the waiting room, and then to the back of the hall. He turned on one dim hallway light but left off the main lights since, as Lucia had pointed out, the place was a fishbowl when lit from within.
When he returned to the front area, Josh was waiting.
Ian locked the door and then turned to face Josh, bracing himself. Just because Marcus was gone didn’t mean Josh was staying.
But instead of sitting, Josh moved in front of him, pushing Ian’s knees apart to stand between them with his hands on Ian’s hips and his face inches away.
“Okay, then.” Ian leaned his forehead against Josh’s. No way would Josh be touching him like this if he were here to say goodbye.
“It is okay.” Josh caressed Ian’s sides.
“Does this mean you’re staying?”
“Do you want me to?”
What a stupid question. Hadn’t he made it plain? “Yes. I want you to stay.” He said it deliberately, the way he’d heard Lucia speak to the twins when they were toddlers. Then he asked, “What do you want?” Because he still wasn’t sure.
“I want . . .” Josh paused. “I want you.”
“And?”
“And I want you to listen to me about the clinic.”
“I thought it was done. I was about to start cleaning out the files.”
“Yes. I can see your file-cleaning methodology needs some work. But try not to do any more damage until you hear the plan Aguto and I came up with. Then it’s your call.”
“Aguto? I thought she was out.”
“She is, but she can represent us to the Hospital Board.”
Ian knew what she’d be proposing to the board, even though it had been two years since Aguto had first mentioned the possibility. “Sponsorship.” He wrinkled his nose. He’d shut that idea down so hard that she’d never mentioned it again. “Wait.” He did a double take. “You said . . . ‘us’?”
“If you want me.”
“I want you in every way possible. But what exactly are we talking about here?”
“I thought you and I might split the duties. I’ll be your medical director, and you’ll be the clinic manager.”
Ian stilled, trying to absorb those words. Josh was staying? And willing to work in the clinic? “Oh baby, you . . . you have no idea.” Ian could not express what that did to him. When he reached out this time, Josh didn’t back away. He came willingly into Ian’s arms, and his lips were as warm and soft as the first time they’d kissed.
The Doctor Takes a Detour Page 19
