Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
Nicolas
I let out a sigh of annoyance when there's a knock at the door.
It means I have to break away from Patrick and I can tell by the way he's scooting closer as I climb out of bed that he doesn't want that either.
I'm not normally a fan of cuddling but I'd rather have him clingy with me than anyone else.
“I'll be back, bo. Gotta answer the door real quick.”
“Make them go away,” he says without opening his eyes while dragging the blanket up his body.
“That's the plan.” I kiss his temple and scramble to the floor searching for my pants.
Once dressed enough to greet visitors, I rush to the front of the house, ready to make the loud banging stop. I tug the door open and a man in uniform is standing in front of me. “Are you Nick?”
“Yes. How can I help you?” I hate how this whole thing has brought the cops to my place.
“I was told Patrick would be staying here and I've come to deliver some news. It's probably a good thing he isn't alone and not staying at his brother's house right now.”
“What is it?” A quiet voice says behind me.
I lower my eyes at him. “Didn't I say I'd be back?” I say quietly to him and he rolls his eyes, closing my robe tighter around his body.
“You were taking too long.” His gaze reverts back to the officer. “Did you find out whose finger it was?”
“Yes,” he says with a sigh. “It came from someone we least expected too. We don't know if they are trying to scare you or are coming after you because they think you might know something. Either way I think we should have a patrol car hang around for a few days.”
“Who's the finger from?” I ask, trying to distract my brain from focusing solely on cops hanging around for way longer than I'd like.
“It’s…well, Patrick,” He says, looking beside me. “It’s from your brother.”
I wrap an arm around him and his hand flies to his mouth. My eyes dart from him to the other man, and I say, “How the hell is that possible? Did it happened before the accident?”
“That’s the strange thing and we are looking into getting more security at the hospital as well. Someone must have snuck into his room recently and done it. The finger is fairly fresh.”
My eyes bulge, hand tightening on Patrick's shoulder. “How did this person have the time to do this and how has no one noticed?”
“My brother was mutilated while the hospital staff was just on the other side of the door. Do they just let anyone walk in?”
The cop lets out a drawn out breath. “As I said before we are looking into it. He has only had two noted visitors since he's been there. Patrick here and his husband.”
Patrick didn't tell me he was married. Did he know? And where the hell has this husband been all this time while Patrick has been struggling to keep everything afloat here alone?
“His husband…” Patrick stammers. “Do you happen to know his name and how I can find him?”
“All he gave me was his first name, Chris and he did give us a contact number but I'm not at liberty to share that.”
“Of course not,” Patrick grumbles and I rub at the center of his back.
“I'm really sorry about all this. It should have been caught sooner. Whoever did that knew how to stop the bleeding and were very good with a sewing needle.”
“So no leads on who started the fire then? I'm guessing they are related?” Patrick straightens his stance.
“We are still looking into that too and from what we can see it was intentional. It was caused by an outside source.”
“Thanks officer,” I say, eager to get him out of my doorway. “Anything you need from us?”
“Nope. Only wanted to stop by and let y'all know what was going on. We will get to the bottom of this, I promise. It's a small town. Someone's gotta know something.”
He isn't wrong about that last part and I bet I can get to the truth quicker than these clueless fuckers can. It all starts at the hospital too and with this other man who's been on the visitor list.
“We appreciate it and we'll be around if you have any more questions.” Patrick's rocks on the balls of his feet. He grabs onto my hand and I smile down at him, needing to take him back to bed where it can only be the two of us again. Where I can make him forget what all he learned just now.
“No problem. We will be around too, keeping a close eye and will update you as we know more.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
As soon as I close the door, I tug him to the room and he stops me. “I want to go to the hospital.”
“I don't know if that's a good idea right now. Let's wait a few days.”
“Please.” His eyes hook on mine. “I need to be with my brother. I need to see him and see that he's okay.”
I look up at the ceiling and then back down at him. “If that's what you need then we'll go.”
“I think I need to be there as much as I can. In between the chores and…” he pauses, eyes growing larger. “The animals. I haven't—”
“I got it covered,” I counter. “Don't worry about it. They've been fed, water, moved and I even gave some of them a pet or two.”
Laughing, he squeezes my hand. “Only one or two? So the bare minimum I see.”
I ruffle his hair and he laughs, tugging at my shirt to pull me into a kiss. Melting against him, I close the small distance and my tongue snakes its way inside his mouth. Seconds later I pull away gasping, I kiss him on the nose and we rub our heads together.
“It's going to be okay, little bo.”
“How do you know?” His words are jumbled.
“Because I'm going to do everything I can to make it okay.”
After grabbing fast-food, we head to the hospital, arriving there five minutes later. We eat in the parking lot with me needing to constantly remind Patrick to slow down on the chewing.
“It's okay. You don’t work today so I think there's room on your short list for the heimlich maneuver.”
A laugh pushes past my lips and I hand him his coke when he starts coughing. “I much rather have room for other things so drink this and let's go see your brother. One of you in the hospital is more than enough.”
He takes the coke and sips on the straw. After a few swallows he laughs, pushing open his door and says. “Okay, my near death experience is over, let's go.”
I get out after him, tossing the trash in one of the bins on the way inside the building.
It's busier today, people rushing by and piling in on the elevator.
Patrick stays close to me the whole time, latching onto my arm and not letting go until we are in his brother's room.
He approaches him slowly and when he lifts the blanket to observe his hand, he sinks down into the chair next to the bed.
“I'm sorry, Glenn. I'm so fucking sorry. I keep failing you. At least I feel like I do.”
Standing behind him, I rest a hand on his shoulder and stay quiet as he talks to his brother some more. He tells him he loves him and how he'll be happy to know he finally knows his sexy neighbor's name. I laugh at that, rubbing both of his shoulders and relaxing more when he does.
He clears his throat a few times while saying a prayer they used to say with their mother when they were younger right before they went to bed and I offer to get him some water.
“Yeah, that would be great.” His voice cracks and I leave the room, going to the first kitchenette area I stumble upon.
As I'm heading back, I stop dead in my tracks when I see a pink bag on the nurses station.
It's identical to one Patrick thought I left on his table.
A nurse reaches for him and my breaths stutter when she takes a cookie out.
She munches on it and a blonde woman steps behind her to grab one too.
“These are so addicting,” the first one says.
“They are. Not only is he a great husband, he's also a great baker.”
“He left his business card behind too,” the blonde chirps.
“Oh, where. I'll definitely have to order something from him soon.”
“Yeah, he said he's been a little backed up with orders lately but is willing to make an exception for the wonderful staff that have been taking such good care of Glenn.”
“Such a sweet man,” the brunette says.
“How'd he take the news?” The blonde says wearily.
“He hasn't come by yet and he hasn't answered his phone when we tried to contact him.”
“Has his brother?”
“Yeah,” the blonde says with a curt nod. Wendy is what it says on her badge. “He's actually here now.” They both look my way and I keep walking, not stopping until I'm behind the room door again.
“You're back. Get lost?” Patrick perks up, taking the cold cup from my hand.
“I think we should go soon.”
“Why?” His brow furrows.
“I think I know who left you those cookies. It's probably the same person who started the fire and cut off your brother's finger.”
His face goes two shades lighter. “Who?”
I look behind me, eyes zoning in on a pink bag on one of the shelves. I pick it up and shake the contents in it. “Yours brother's supposed husband.”
“I…that's the same bag that…” His hand covers his mouth, eyes widening in shock and the cup almost slips through his other fingers as they shake.
“Same bag and same cookies. These smell the same as yours did. I think he was hoping you'd eat them when you came back to visit. He left some at the nurse's station too but I don't think those were tampered with.”
“Fuck. Should we at least wait and see if he comes back?”
“I don't think he will. At least not as long as he knows we're here. He can't kill your brother as easily if we are.”
“I'm surprised he hasn't done it yet. What's he waiting for?”
“I don't know. To use him to get you to go away first. But why, I'm not sure.”
“It doesn't make any sense. He's not into anything bad. Not that I know of. I've been all over his house and the man collects nature magazines for crying out loud.”
“There has to be a reason and I don't want to wait for them to show us what it is.”
“Them?”
I nod, looking around me and step closer. “We shouldn't talk about this here.” I pocket the cookies and help him up from the chair.
“How about I stay here and you go see what all you can find.” He tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.
“I don't want to leave you alone here.”
“I'm not alone. There are staff and patients everywhere. They also said they'd be watching this room more closely.”
“Yes but they won't know who to watch for. They were talking about the guy as if he was this saint.”
“I have my phone. I'll call if anything happens or he shows up.”
“Fine,” I breathe out. “Don't leave this room. Not for anything.”
He nods, sitting back in the chair. “I won't.”
I turn to leave and my steps come to a halt when he says, “Thank you, Nick.”
Normally I'd give him shit for shortening my name since it's what my father used to call me before beating me unconscious.
But this isn't coming from that fucker. It's coming from someone else.
Someone I let get away with a lot more shit than anyone else, and when I look back at him, all it takes is those big blue eyes melting into mine for me to be certain I always will.