26 Aubie #2
A doctor steps into the waiting room, giving us false hope, but he’s here to talk to the old woman. She follows him out, leaving us alone. I glance at my phone; it’s getting close to midnight.
“If you’ve got stuff to do, I can wait here,” I tell Daryl, who’s back to typing on his phone.
He looks up and shakes his head. “I’m good, but I’m sure you have better things to be doing.”
“I’m right where I want to be,” I say, surprised at the truth of that statement. “But I thought you said you were going to go talk to Scarponi.”
“I called him. He’s agreed to wait for me.”
I’m sure that’s sitting well with a mafia boss, but I don’t say anything. Daryl’s business is none of my own. Still, I can’t resist.
“Just to put it out there, the next time you need an investor, ask me.”
His brow quirks up in surprise. “I, uh…something I never considered.”
“Well, consider it. I don’t have access to the endless Gauthier fortune, but I’m still loaded. And I like the club.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies, though his look is dubious.
Yeah, I know my reputation as a party boy probably makes the offer sound hollow, but I realize I’m dead serious.
My life is pretty aimless right now. I never pictured myself as a businessman, even though I was groomed for it at an early age and took enough classes in college to claim some actual expertise, but investing in something like Eros seems like a natural fit for me.
I don’t even need the added incentive of giving my father a coronary at the thought of Gauthier money funding a sex club.
And there’s no way I would be able to do it without him finding out.
Daryl goes back to his phone, not looking up when he says, “I’m sorry.”
At first I’m not sure he’s talking to me. “About what?”
“My comment about you and Cutter. I don’t usually go around sticking my nose in other people’s business, but Cutter is like family to me. And well, he’s kind of had his share of problems the last few years.”
“Yeah, he told me about his brother.” Well, he mentioned him. He never actually went into detail, but Daryl doesn’t need to know that.
His brows arch up. “He did?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. Cutter doesn’t like to talk about himself.”
“No shit,” I mutter. “He’s like a fucking vault.”
A vault I wouldn’t mind cracking.
I quickly swallow that thought as inappropriate, considering where we are and why we’re here.
“So you two…?”
So much for not being nosy. “Yes, Daryl, we’ve fucked. And before you accuse me of taking advantage of him, it was consensual.”
Eventually.
It occurs to me that Cutter is probably more private than I am about information like that.
Guess I just outed him to his friend. Not that it should matter.
They’re friends, right? And you’re not going to convince me Daryl isn’t queer.
No one who stares at naked men all night is walking the straight path.
“Does that shock you?” I ask.
He frowns. “I don’t know. I just never thought he was bi.”
“Like you?” I’m on a roll now. Anything to distract me from the panic lurking in my head.
He shrugs and acts like he didn’t hear me when he murmurs, “I told him he should explore new experiences.”
I wonder when that conversation happened. Do I have Daryl to thank for Cutter’s visit the other night?
“Looks like he listened to you.”
He seems to be tasting that for the truth. “Good for him. He needs to get out of his head more.”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “Are you being serious?”
He looks up and shakes his head, flashing a half grin. “I run a male strip club. What part of sex do you think I have a problem with?”
Whatever I was going to reply is put on hold when the doctor walks into the room. “Daryl Hart?” he asks.
Daryl tucks his phone away and stands up. “That’s me.”
I realize I’m holding my breath. The doctor looks tired and there’s blood on his scrubs, but I don’t see any defeat in his expression. That’s good, right?
“Mr. Knight is out of surgery. There was a small tear in the intestinal wall, but otherwise the knife missed any major organs. He’s lucky.”
Lucky?
“Can we see him?” Daryl asks.
“He’ll be out for a while. I would suggest you go home and get some sleep. You can leave your number with the nurse and someone will call you when we get him to a room.”
Leave? Every cell in my body balks at the idea. Like if I’m not here monitoring everything he could…
No. The doctor said he’s fine. He’s just sedated. It’s routine.
“How long will he be in the hospital?” Daryl asks.
The doctor seems thoughtful. “The wound was deep, so we want to keep him at least a day to monitor it, then he should be good to go home. No activity though. I’d prefer strict bedrest for a couple of days, but I know how people are–especially someone his age–so I’ll just say he should take it very easy. Does he have someone who can help him?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Daryl assures him.
“Okay,” the doctor says. “Well, if there are no other questions?” When neither of us says anything, he nods. “I’m glad your friend is okay.”
Daryl reaches out to shake his hand. “Yeah, me too. Thanks doc.”
After he’s gone, Daryl turns to me. “I’m going to go take care of business. You want me to drop you somewhere?”
Do I? What if Cutter wakes up alone and doesn’t know where he is or what happened?
Just like me when…
“No. I’ll stick around.”
He quirks a brow at that. “If you’re sure. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully by then he’s awake.”
I watch him leave, wondering what I’m doing.
The coffee he brought me has gone cold, so I dump it in the trash and take off my coat, folding it up like a pillow before claiming a seat by the wall and closing my eyes.
I know no one knows who I am. No one will come and tell me if Cutter’s status changes.
I consider finding the nurse to let her know why I’m here, but I suddenly feel like my legs are made of stone.
Exhaustion claims me, and before I know it, I’m nodding off.
? ? ?
“Bryce! Bryce, talk to me! Damn it, don’t leave me like this!”
I startle awake in a cold sweat. Where am I?
Oh right. The hospital.
That hospital.
It’s been weeks since I had The Dream. I guess what happened tonight triggered it.
It’s always the same. Random snatches of reality, like a gory slideshow playing on an endless loop.
Tires screeching. Metal crunching. Glass shattering. And then sudden, unholy silence.
A silence that would never be filled.
So much blood.
Blood hiding his smile.
Blood coating my hands.
Blood everywhere.
Neither of us was drunk. Neither of us was high. We were just young and stupid and looking for a thrill.
One of us would never look again.
It should have been me.
My father saw to it I would never forget that fact while sweeping the whole thing under the rug. That’s what money and privilege could buy.
And I was a coward because I never had the courage to tell the truth.
Not even to his family.
For that I deserve the nightmares.
I deserve to suffer.
Part of me wishes I could go back to sleep and pretend I’m someone else. That’s what I usually do.
That or lose myself in whatever substance or body is handy.
But it’s always there in the background.
Waiting.
Someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn around.
“Jesus,” Daryl says. “I’ve been trying to wake you up forever.”
I sit up and rub my eyes. “Sorry. Guess I dozed off.”
“Uh huh. Nightmares?”
I don’t try to hide my confusion. “What?”
“You seemed distraught. Kept calling someone’s name. I tried to shake you awake a couple of times, but you were in deep.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb anyone.” The last thing I need is for him to think I’m some kind of basket case. “What time is it?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Two-thirty. The nurse said they moved Cutter up to a room about thirty minutes ago. Figured I’d collect you before going up.”
“Thanks.” I stand up and fall into step beside him as he leads the way to the elevator. “Did you get your business taken care of?”
He nods. “I don’t think there will be any more incidents in the parking lot.”
“You hope.” Does he know about the night I was almost assaulted by the drunken redneck?
The night I first tasted Cutter’s cock.
I shake that memory out of my head. Not the time or the place.
When we get to the seventh floor, Daryl leads us to the nurses’ station to ask if Cutter can have visitors.
“Are you family?” the middle-aged charge nurse asks.
Without missing a beat, Daryl replies, “I’m his brother.”
“Mr. Knight?”
“Hart. Different fathers.”
She doesn’t look like she believes him, but I guess our general haggardness finally gets to her. “Ordinarily visiting hours don’t start until nine a.m. but seeing as how he was brought in on an emergency tonight, I guess I can make an exception. He’s in 718.”
“Thank you,” Daryl says as he strides off with me in his wake.
When we get to the room, I grab Daryl’s arm before he opens the door. “You go in first.”
“What? Why?”
I shrug. “I just…I’m not sure he’ll want to see me.”
He shakes his head. “You saved his fucking life. Of course he’ll want to see you.”
Is that what I’m really worried about? Or is it seeing him here? Lying in a hospital bed? All because I was too busy talking to leave a minute earlier.
It’s all my fault.
Again.