Chapter Thirty-Five
The evening is going amazingly well. Trent is holding his own. No one knows how nervous he still is as he talks confidently and enthusiastically. I’m holding his hand, even though he doesn’t need it.
“I need you for a minute,” Merrick says quietly in my ear. “Can you leave Trent for a minute or two?”
“Sure.” I turn to Trent and whisper, “I’ll be back,” then go with Merrick. “What’s up?”
“Marc is here. Well, he’s outside. He hasn’t come in yet. Drew is keeping a watch on his whereabouts,” he says in an angry whisper, looking around the room.
Drew walks in through the door, a scowl creasing his forehead and strides over to us. “There’s no sign of him. I think he’s gone.”
I look around the room. Even knowing he isn’t in here, I can’t help scanning every face. “I don’t even know what he looks like.”
“I’ll show you.” Merrick presses a few keys on his computer, and the screen shows a screenshot of the man who has hurt my lover for years, with words or with his disregard for him. “How did he even know he was here in Calston, let alone at the gallery tonight?”
“I can only think he saw an advert for the show. He hangs out with a lot of arty types. He thinks it makes him cool by association.”
“He’s been calling Trent. The last time was enough to make him change his number. That was the day he started the last painting, the one in the window.”
“What did he want?” Drew asks.
“Trent back. He says his friends are turning away from him. It seems they like Trent more than him and have been questioning where he is.” I fill them in on the shit Trent has had to put up with.
“That bastard. He’s such an arselicker, always trying to get into the coolest crowd. Josh hated him for the way he treated Trent.”
“It looks like he’s got the message and left,” Drew says.
“Yeah, but where has he gone? He could be waiting for Trent anywhere in town.” I run my hand through my hair. Shit, why did Marc have to show up, trying to ruin Trent’s evening? “I don’t want Trent to know, not tonight.”
“Agreed,” my friends say in unison.
We leave the office. I look around for Trent but don’t see him in the main room.
As I weave through the crowd, I hear the positive comments and the appreciation of his art.
Trent’s in the smaller room showcasing his erotic art.
He’s talking to Ivan and Brodie. Brodie looks over Trent’s shoulder into the larger room, scowling.
After a quick kiss and an apology to Trent for leaving him, I promise to do better.
Brodie claps me on the shoulder. “Merlin, can I borrow you for a minute?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Marc is here, in the other room,” he hisses, leading me into the room.
“How the fuck did he get in? Merrick saw him on the surveillance outside. Drew went out and said he’d gone.”
“Well, he’s here now, and I don’t trust that fucker an inch. I don’t think he ever physically abused Trent, but he was verbally aggressive and abusive so many times,” Brodie says.
I look for Drew but can’t see him. “Okay, let’s go find the fucker.” I’m not a violent man. In fact, I’ve never thrown a punch at anyone in my life. But if this arsehole goes anywhere near my man, I’ll take him down.
“He’s there.” Brodie points towards the front of the room. Marc is in the one place that is out of the way of all the artwork, so there is no one else around him.
“Fuck, is that a knife in his hand? Call the police!” I move faster through the throng of people. Brodie’s calling out to me, but I don’t stop. I have to get to Marc before he does anything. I can only assume that he’s here to hurt Trent.
Marc sees me, and fury descends like a mask over his face, anger so violent I have never seen. He rushes towards me.
A sharp pain courses through my body. Someone screams. My knees give way. I stumble and hit the floor with a thud. All goes dark.
The smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils. Where am I? The steady beep-beep of a machine penetrates the haziness in my head. Someone squeezes my hand.
I try to open my eyes, but they fall closed again.
“Shit. Merlin, you’re awake.” It’s Trent, but he sounds all wrong. He sounds scared.
I force my eyes open and slowly turn my head. Trent’s crying, and by the redness of his eyes, he’s been doing it for a while. “Why are you crying?”
“I’ll get a nurse,” someone else says. It sounds like my mum. Why is my mum here?
“What happened?” I croak and try to clear my throat. Why am I in the hospital? What happened? What was I doing? Trent’s art show. I was at the gallery. Marc. Marc was there. “Marc. Marc was there. Did he hurt you?”
“No, sweetheart. Not me. It was you he stabbed.” Trent’s voice is thick with pain and tears. “I thought you were going to die. There was so much blood.”
Before I can ask any more questions, a nurse comes in and fusses around with the machines, then fills in the details on a tablet. “It’s good to see you awake. How’s your pain, Merlin? On a scale of one to ten.”
Now he mentions it, the pain in my chest and shoulder registers. It’s not too bad, more a dull ache, more than when I broke my collarbone playing rugby, but bearable. “Um, about eight, I think.”
“Okay, that won’t do. You can press this to administer your pain relief. It won’t let you OD on it.” He smiles and walks out through the gap in the drawn curtains.
I lie back down and close my eyes. “Tell me what happened.”
Trent sighs, the emotion catching in his throat making it wobble.
“Um, Marc was arrested, and he’s in police custody.
They want to talk to you. Brodie has already given his statement.
He, um, Marc claims he was threatened by you and it was self-defence.
He was the one with the knife, though. So how does that make him the victim?
I don’t get it. Luckily, neither do the police.
Footage on the town CCTV shows him checking out the gallery yesterday, both the front and back entrances. They will be pressing charges.”
“So, why am I in a hospital bed, and how long have I been here?” I look at my mum. “This wasn’t how I planned to introduce you to Trent.”
“It’s only been a day. They needed to anaesthetise you so they could clean up the sites.
He used a serrated knife that left some very messy wounds.
Two were deep, penetrating your shoulder and your lung.
The third was more of a slash, but it was quite deep.
You’ve had surgery to repair the wounds,” my mum says in her no-nonsense manner.
She’s never been one to fudge the facts, but I don’t like the tremor in her voice.
“I’m so sorry, Merlin. I can’t believe he did it. I don’t even know why. He never really liked me.”
“That’s not true, Trent, dear. He would never have been as jealous as this if he didn’t have feelings for you,” my mum says.
As Trent tells my mum about his life before he came to Calston Cove, I close my eyes, and it doesn’t take me long to succumb to sleep.
When I wake up again, it’s night. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I find Trent asleep in what must be the most uncomfortable chair in the world. “Trent,” I whisper a couple of times. He opens his eyes. “Get up here with me.”
When he looks like he’s going to protest, I extend my arm, motioning him over with my hand. “Please, I miss you.”
He lies beside me with his head in the crook of my good arm.
“I was so scared. I thought he’d hit your heart.
The whole place turned into pandemonium.
Drew and Brodie tackled him to the floor.
He was in such a rage that they were all but sitting on him.
Merrick wouldn’t let me get to you. However much I fought him, he held tight. ”
His tears fall again, but at least this time, I can hold him until he falls back to sleep.