Chapter 2
Chapter two
The first thing Morgan felt when he woke up was absolutely parched.
The throbbing headache registered right after that, so he knew better than to try opening his eyes as he darted his tongue across his cracked lips.
They hurt—everything was starting to hurt—but a second later, the familiar shape of a straw found his mouth.
Morgan closed his lips over it and sucked, and …
ah. Cold, clean water flowed down a throat that felt scraped raw, and Morgan got a few more good sips in before the straw was taken away.
“Mmnoo …”
“Slowly,” someone said. Their voice was low, a little rough—they sounded like someone who hadn’t spoken in a while. “Otherwise, you’ll get sick again.”
Again? Was that why his throat felt so awful? He’d thrown up? But why?
Memories trickled back in—the path, the fall, the waves that inexorably beat him against the rock like just another bit of flotsam. Morgan registered the pain in his shoulder even though it didn’t seem as sharp as it should have, and his eyes flew open.
“Shit,” he croaked, trying to sit up. He needed to move, to prove that he still could after almost drowning right next to his own fucking island.
“Easy.” A cool hand pressed gently against his forehead.
Morgan tried to look in the direction of the owner of the hand, but the dim light picked that moment to stab his brain.
“You should stay down for now. Let your body remember where all its parts are before you start trying to move them around. You don’t want to confuse it. ”
Morgan wanted to argue, but he didn’t have the voice for it yet. Or, to be honest, the will—his head fucking hurt, even worse than his shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered, letting his eyes fall shut again.
“Don’t be. You’re no trouble.”
Don’t be. So easy to say, but Morgan knew better. No one ever did anything for free, but whatever the price for saving his life was, he’d pay it as soon as he felt better. It was the least he could do for … “Are you Ty?”
The other man hummed. “That’s what Phil called me.”
Ah, a nickname then.
“You can call me Ty too,” he went on.
Morgan essayed a little nod, then winced. Not a good idea yet; the muscles in his neck felt like they were about to clench up entirely. “I’m Morgan.”
“I know.”
Oh, great. He must have seen the news. Now Morgan could look forward to a barrage of questions about his stupid company and his stupid ex and the stupid—
“Phil showed me pictures of you,” Ty said. “This will feel cold.” A second later, a wet cloth began to carefully wipe down Morgan’s forehead and jaw. “Painful?”
“No worse than it already was,” Morgan said through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry it hurts.”
Morgan was too, but since the accident was his own damn fault, the least he could do was put up with it graciously. He settled on, “Phil talked about me?”
“Sometimes,” Ty said, moving on to wiping down the side of his neck. “You and your mom. Not for a few years now, though.”
Guilt hit Morgan like a hammer, the ache of it almost as bad as the pain in his head. “I was … very busy for a while,” he said, knowing it was a shitty excuse to put out there, but also that it was the only one he had.
“That’s what Phil said. How is your shoulder?”
Morgan shifted slightly. “It feels okay … I thought I dislocated it, though.” He’d done it before, once playing basketball and once, embarrassingly, after a botched high dive. He’d had to be fished out of the water when that one happened too.
“You did. I put it back in place before you woke up.”
Oh, wow. That was convenient. “Are you a doctor as well as a fisherman?” Morgan asked in what he hoped was a joking manner.
Ty hummed again. “I’ve had a lot of experience patching up humans over the years.”
Patching up humans? That was a weird way of phrasing things.
“Animals are much harder to treat,” he went on, and ah, now Morgan got it. Humans or seals or birds, Ty probably knew how to handle basic first aid for all of them. Of course. No wonder he differentiated people that way.
“I can only imagine how hard they must be to get close to,” Morgan offered.
“Mmm. Not very good about taking it easy or keeping their wounds clean either.” There was a hint of humor in Ty’s voice now. “I hope you’re better behaved than a seal, Morgan.”
“I promise I am.” He might not be any more graceful than one of them, after his stupid fall, but he could be a good patient for as long as it took him to get back to the lighthouse. Hopefully not long, but … “I’m lucky you found me.”
“I was looking for you.”
Oh. Morgan felt a little pang somewhere in the center of his chest. Funny, this one didn’t hurt. It was more … appreciative. Ty had been coming to check in on him, maybe give him a fish in person this time instead of leaving it in the cooler. “That’s nice of you.”
“Mmm.”
Those little hums ought to be annoying, a stand-in for real words and actual explanations, but instead, Morgan was starting to find them comforting. “I was looking for you when I fell,” he offered.
The cloth on his neck paused. “Why?” Ty asked after a long moment. He sounded uncomfortable with the entire concept of being looked for.
Morgan decided to stick to the basics. Ty didn’t need to deal with the deluge of baggage that Morgan was hauling around right now. “I wanted to thank you for the fish,” he said.
“Ah.” His companion relaxed. “No thanks are necessary. I have a standing order with a restaurant in town, so I take the boat in every morning anyhow. A stop by the lighthouse is on the way.”
It really wasn’t, but Morgan decided not to point that out. “Still, I appreciate it. I wasn’t really feeling up to any company before today …” He paused, but Ty, because apparently he was a saint, didn’t press. “But I thought it was time to get out and explore a little bit.”
“And instead, you fell into the water.”
Morgan choked out a little laugh. “That counts as exploring.”
“It would count more if you could swim.”
“I can swim. I just got pushed into the rock before I could make enough space to swim around it.” For the first time, Morgan considered his situation from Ty’s point of view.
Here he was, an old, solitary fisherman used to the company of another old man, someone he’d been friends with for years and was suddenly without.
Instead, he was stuck with his friend’s grandnephew, a guy who hadn’t bothered to reach out or even use his own boat to go around the island before nearly getting himself killed taking the land route.
If Ty hadn’t been out fishing, Morgan would be dead right now. Shit. He was a jackass.
“I’m sorry,” he offered in a small voice. “I really didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”
“Mm-mm. You’re not an inconvenience.”
Morgan felt tears well up and was savagely grateful for the fact that he couldn’t open his eyes right now. “That’s nice of you to say, but—”
“Morgan.” That cool hand found his forehead again, then slowly slipped down his face until it covered his eyes. The last of the light in the room was thoroughly blocked, and he relaxed a few more degrees even as a few of those traitorous tears slipped free. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Morgan resisted the urge to ask “really?” and gave a faint nod instead.
“Phil always used the boat to visit.”
Jesus Christ, of course he did.
“Most of the island is a nature reserve. We aren’t allowed to disturb the nests.”
Right. Morgan was a moron. “Got it,” he whispered, his throat tight.
“Mmm. How’s your head?”
“It feels pretty banged up,” Morgan confessed. “And my shoulder is getting more painful.”
The hand left his eyes, replaced quickly with a thick, slightly scratchy cloth to take over shielding him from the light. “I’ll go back to the lighthouse and get you some painkillers.”
Morgan frowned. “Why not just take me back in your boat?”
“The waters are pretty rough right now,” Ty said, a hint of amusement in his smooth voice. “Do you think you could handle bobbing up and down for the fifteen minutes it would take to get you around to the dock?”
Oh, hell no. Just the thought of it was enough to make Morgan go green around the metaphorical gills. “Can I have a little more water?” he asked hoarsely.
“Of course.” There was a sound of water pouring, then the straw was back. Morgan sucked the cup dry, and by the time he was done, he finally felt a little bit clearer in the head. He knew it was temporary, though.
“I locked the door,” he warned as he heard Ty start to move about the room.
“I know where the spare key is.”
Huh. Even Morgan didn’t know that. “Where is it?”
“Under the fake rock in the front.”
“There’s a fake rock out there?”
Ty laughed quietly. “Mmm. I’ll show you when you’re feeling well enough to go home. This shouldn’t take me long.”
Even once he did get the meds, they weren’t going to magically make what Morgan was pretty sure was a concussion go away.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “For invading you like this.” He had the sneaking suspicion he was taking up Ty’s bed.
“If you want to grab some of the extra blankets from the lighthouse, we can set up a pallet on the floor for me to sleep on.”
“People get better faster in real beds.”
People … God, Ty had a weird way of phrasing things sometimes. “But I don’t like putting you out.”
“You’re not,” Ty assured him. “I prefer to sleep in the water anyway.”
In … no, he had to mean “on.” “In your boat?”
“Mmm. I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait.” Moving carefully, Morgan eased the cloth off his eyes, holding it in such a way that it blocked most of the light while still letting him see.
He blinked through reflexive tears toward the voice that had been taking care of him since before he woke up.
“I really appreciate this,” he said to the blurry figure in front of him.
Slowly, the multiple images resolved into the figure of a—
A young man. A startlingly young man, probably younger than Morgan, with smooth skin, enormous dark eyes and thick tendrils of brown hair poking out from beneath the woolen beanie he wore.
He had pale skin, so white it was almost blue in the shadows, and almost every inch of it was covered by a thick, cream-colored sweater and brown cargo pants.
“You’re welcome,” the person who couldn’t possibly be Ty said before he exited the room, leaving Morgan alone with his roiling thoughts.
What. The. Hell.