Chapter 14 FLETCHER
FLETCHER
The elevator doors slide shut behind me, and only then do I realize my hands are shaking.
I press them flat against my thighs, breathing through it as the floor numbers tick downward. Relief, dread, jealousy—they’re all tangled together in my chest, knotted so tight I don’t know which one hurts the most.
Vince is okay. Or he’s going to be okay. That’s the part I’m supposed to cling to.
But Ace.
Of all the people to show up at Vince’s bedside…
I’m not a jealous person. I never have been. I’ve trusted easily my whole life—too easily, according to my ex. But watching him walk into Vince’s hospital room like he belonged there sliced something sharp and bitter under my ribs. I did not expect that.
Vince told me he slept with one guy—just one guy—and it had been a friend from the army.
Was it him, then? Was Ace his one guy?
If so, it has to mean something that he showed up in his time of crisis, right?
The coffee shop in the lobby smells burnt and sweet at the same time, and I latch onto the normalcy of it like a lifeline. Ace wanted something “dark and mysterious,” but what does that even mean? I can’t put a personality in a cup.
The menu blurs in front of me. I’m too exhausted to make sense of anything. I tossed and turned all night thinking about Vince, the way he was sprawled out on the floor of the bar. It's an image that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Shuddering, I fold my arms over my chest, trying to ward off the chill that isn’t really there. Someone bumps my shoulder, jolting me out of my spiral.
“Oh—sorry,” they say, then freeze. “Wait. Fletcher?”
It takes me a second to place them—vibrant red hair and brilliant gold eyes. “Korie?”
“Hey!”
They grin wide, lashes dramatic under fluorescent lighting.
They’re dressed in mint green hospital scrubs, makeup sharp and deliberate, and no jewelry in sight.
That’s probably why I didn’t recognize them.
Korie is gender fluid, almost always wearing dresses or flashy designer shirts when they come to Graham’s Bar, usually hanging out with two or three friends for poetry night or a concert.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” they say, joy fading in an instant. “Everything okay?”
The truth slips out before I can stop it. “I’m here with Vince.”
Korie’s eyes widen. “Vince from the bar? The bouncer?”
Shit. Way to go, Fletch. I’m too exhausted to filter my words. “Yeah. He had a fall at work.”
“Oh, damn.” Genuine horror crosses their face. “That’s awful. I’ll have to go see him. What room is he in?”
“I don’t remember. Third floor somewhere.”
Korie chuckles. “No worries. I can look it up. I’ll swing by on my lunch, though.”
Warmth flows through me. So many people care for Vince and are willing to show up for him without hesitation. So why doesn’t he see it?
“Do you work here?” I ask, gesturing to their scrubs.
“Oh, yeah, I’m a radiology tech,” they say proudly. “Best job in the world, if you ask me.”
Korie keeps talking as we wait in line, filling the space effortlessly with stories about their job, the latest movie they’ve seen, and literally anything else. It’s a relief not to think about hospital beds, MRI scans, and old ghosts from Vince’s past.
By the time I reach the counter, my hands have mostly stopped shaking. I order two coconut mochas for Vince and I, and a plain black coffee for Ace. Hopefully, it’s what he wants. If not, well, he can come and get it himself.
I wave goodbye to Korie, then walk back to the elevator. When I finally reach the third floor again, I pause, unable to move forward. The hallway feels longer than before. Emptier. Scarier.
Before I know it, I’m going in another direction. Then I'm standing in front of a different glass door—this one with the name Sarah Conrad etched into it.
I don’t remember deciding to walk this way. I don’t even know why I’m here. I only know that I need to see Sarah more than anything right now.
She looks up from her desk, sees me through the glass, and immediately gets up to open the door. Her dark brows pull together in worry.
“Hey,” I say uselessly. My mind and heart are racing. I can’t stand still, feet shuffling against the tiles.
“Come in.”
The door closes behind me, muffling the sounds of the hospital. I set the coffee down wherever there’s space and scrub a hand over my face.
“I don’t—” I stop abruptly. What was I even going to say?
Sarah has been my go-to person in times of crisis ever since we started dating in college. She’s been my anchor, my port—even when I’d hurt her.
Thankfully, Sarah doesn’t need me to explain. She pulls me in for a hug like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I let myself sink into it, burying my face against her shoulder.
“Sorry,” I murmur, my throat thick. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m here.”
She hugs tighter. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay, Fletch.”
I finally breathe out. Slower now. Steadier. When I pull away, my face is wet with tears.
She hands me a tissue. “You really care about him.”
It isn’t a question.
I avoid her gaze. I don’t want to talk about Vince, not when my heart is so raw and now that he’s alone with his… ex—is that the right word? I’m still not sure what they even mean to each other. Or what I mean to him.
What are we doing? I know Vince feels something, but how deeply? Does he want this? Does he understand how much I do?
“It’s just been a crazy twenty-four hours,” I say shakily.
“I bet. His chart looks good, though,” Sarah says. “I peeked this morning as soon as I logged in.”
Being the administrative manager has its perks.
Sarah is in charge of all the non-medical staff, yet still has access to the hospital’s database, at least in a limited capacity.
And being raised by two doctors has given her the knowledge to understand what the charts say. Way more than I’ll ever be able to.
“He still needs more doctor appointments,” I say. “They’re talking about MRIs and… god, lots of stuff.”
“That’s a good thing. It means he’s getting the help he needs.”
I nod weakly. “Yeah. I guess.” I wipe my face again, taking a deep breath.
Sarah rubs my back.
“Anyway, I should get back before these get cold,” I say, gathering the coffees.
Before I can leave, she says, “Fletcher?”
I pause.
“You’re allowed to be scared for someone you care about. You know that, right?” Her blunt observation tells me she sees exactly how much I feel for Vince.
“I’m trying to be strong for him.”
She shakes her head. “Being strong for someone doesn’t mean you’re immune to the fear or any of the other bad feelings. You’re still allowed to feel it. And you should. You need to process everything, so you can be there for him.”
I nod, not sure how to reply. Processing my fear feels impossible when I should be helping Vince through his.
But she’s right. I’ve been holding Vince up so much over the last couple of months that I haven’t really let myself grasp what this means—how much his life is going to change. He might not get better. Things might not get easier.
In fact, they’ll probably get worse. Much worse. Yet that still isn’t what scares me—not at all.
It’s not being around for it.
I want to be there for Vince, and I’m afraid he won’t let me.
She reaches for me again, hugging tight. “I’m here if you need me, okay? Just call or come by.”
I’ve never been more grateful that we remained friends after our divorce. “Thank you.”
I leave her office calmer than I entered. Still unsettled and still unsure, but grounded enough to walk back into that room and face whatever’s waiting for me there.
I peek through the window before entering. Ace is sitting in the chair beside the bed, and Vince is talking, animated despite the exhaustion dragging at his features. He looks… happy. Relieved. Like something heavy has been lifted off him.
I should be glad.
I am glad.
But it still hurts.
I finally step in and pass out the coffees, suddenly very aware that I don’t have a place to sit anymore. The only chair in the room is occupied, and sitting on the bed again feels too intimate, given the company.
Ace watches me over the rim of his cup, clearly curious.
“So how long are you staying in town?” Vince asks him.
Ace shrugs. “Not sure. Didn’t book a return flight. Needed to see how you’re doing first.”
“Well, you can use my apartment if you want,” Vince says easily. “No sense paying for a hotel.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
The words hit hard. Use his apartment.
He’d said it like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal to loan your bed to a past lover.
He’d said it like it wouldn’t rearrange something inside my chest.
I draw in yet another slow breath, trying to stay calm.
“But wait—where are you staying, then?” Ace says.
Vince glances at me. “With Fletcher.”
Ace whistles, grinning wide. “Is that right? Shacking up already?”
Vince rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an ass.”
But he doesn’t deny it.
Vince doesn’t deny that there might be more to this than just me helping him. I cling to that small thing like it’s a life raft, hiding a smile against my coffee cup.
Ace talks about how Phoenix wasn’t what he hoped. Vince asks about—Matthew? No, Mateo. I’m only half paying attention. Apparently he moved away for the guy and their relationship ended in disaster.
Ace and Vince trade insults, laughing in an easy and familiar way, which doesn’t help the jealousy. They’re clearly close, and why wouldn’t they be? They went to war together. That kind of history doesn’t fade.
But what about the rest of their history? Has that faded? Or is there still chemistry between them?
It’s impossible to know, and I hate how much I need to.
The rest of the morning drifts by in loose pieces—conversation that dips in and out as nurses come to check vitals or push meds. Someone brings another chair in for me, and Ace chuckles when I stay standing beside Vince.
He makes himself comfortable, injured leg stretched out in front of him as he rubs his knee. I catch myself staring at his prosthetic a few times. Not gawking, but curious.
I hate how curious I am about him.
I hate even more how often I compare myself to him.
Ace is wildly different from me. Shorter, broader, with silky hair and a smooth face.
His voice is rough and unforgiving, and he isn’t afraid to say what he means.
I’ve known the guy less than two hours and already I can see he doesn’t care what people think of him.
Ace is what he is. They can accept him or not.
Was Vince really attracted to him? He’d said they’d fooled around while deployed, which made me think it was a fling. But flings don’t show up at your bedside when your world turns upside down.
Finally, Ace stands with a grunt, rubbing at the spot where his prosthetic meets skin. “Alright, man. Gotta give this thing a break. And find some food that isn’t in a vending machine. I’ll come back to check on you later, though.”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know if they discharge me.”
“You better.” He leans in to hug Vince again.
“You still have a key to my apartment?” Vince asks.
“What do you think?” Ace says.
Again, my stomach twists. Ace has a key?
Ace claps a hand loosely on my shoulder before heading out. “Nice to meet you, Fletcher. Take care of him for me.”
The sudden quiet he leaves behind seems bigger than the room. His presence was so dominating.
Vince sags against the pillow, eyes closed. He says nothing for a long time, then rolls his head toward me. “What’s on your mind?”
I can’t tell him the truth, yet it comes out anyway. “Just that Ace seems like a good friend.”
Vince reaches for me with a heavy hand. When I take it, he threads our fingers together and pulls me to him. I sit on the bed, facing him.
“Do you remember me telling you about the one guy I’ve been with?”
Ah, fuck. I was right then…
I look away. “Yeah.”
“He’s just a friend, Fletch. I promise. We haven’t done anything in… god, over a decade, I think. We only talk a few times a year.”
I frown. “But he flew here the second he heard about you?” I hate how my voice sounds. This isn’t who I am, usually.
“Yeah. And I’d do the same for him.” His voice is steady, honest. “We have a strong friendship. But we aren’t close. Not like that. Not like us.”
The knot loosens in my chest, but only a little. Not like us.
“You just never told me about him,” I say. “Or the other guys.”
Vince blinks. “What other guys?”
“There was a photo in your room at the apartment. I recognize you and Ace. But there were five guys in… Afghanistan, I’m guessing?”
Vince is quiet. So quiet it makes me wonder if I mis-stepped. He turns away and runs a finger over the blanket. When he speaks again, his voice is heavy. “Kit, Bucket, and Bubba.”
I choke on a laugh. “I’m sorry—Bucket?”
“Bucket,” he confirms, cracking the faintest smile. “We all had nicknames in the army. Ace isn’t actually Ace, for example. His real name is Ashton.”
“What’s your nickname, then?”
His expression seems guarded, but also soft, revealing deep affection underneath. “Stone.”
“Stone?”
He shrugs. “For my cold, dead heart, apparently.”
I can’t tell if he’s serious or not.
He finally laughs. “I’m kidding. I don’t know why they called me that. They just did.” He sighs. “For eight years, that was the only name I answered to.”
I brush a thumb over his hand, my heart suddenly aching. Something tells me that if the other men knew Vince was laid up in a hospital bed, they would be here too.
“What happened to them?”
It’s a long moment before he answers. “Our hideout on a mission was compromised, and we were ambushed.” His expression tells me what he cannot. The others didn’t survive.
I curse under my breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too. They were good men. Ace and I barely made it out. It’s how he lost his leg and eye.”
It all makes sense now. Why Ace would jump on a plane to come see him. They’re bound by something deeper than I can possibly imagine.
The tightness in my chest finally eases. Ace isn’t a threat. He isn’t here to take my place—he’s here because Vince survived. Because he made it home. That kind of thing inspires loyalty.
I’m suddenly grateful Ace came as quickly as he did. Vince deserves that, especially when he tries so damn hard to push everyone else away.
Vince lets go of my hand to rub his face again. He always does that when his beard gets too long. “I’m so damn tired.”
“Why don’t you just sleep until we can go?”
“Stay with me?” His pleading tone is everything. He wants me here.
I lean in to kiss him gently. “Sleep, hon. I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s out quickly, snoring softly.