33. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Noel
W hat a fucking disaster and it was all my fault. If I had just been open and honest about the situation in the first place, maybe there would have been time for Milo to warm up to the idea and maybe I wouldn’t have had to watch betrayal flicker across Branson’s face. But I hadn’t, my head too far buried in the sand to even consider the consequences.
“Where do we go from here?” Milo asked, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the space that had become our home. Branson’s things were littered all over. Mugs stood on most of the surfaces - both Milo and I had taken to buying them for him - and throw cushions and blankets were piled in a high bundle at the side of the sofa. His clothing was strewn over chairs, cat toys lay in disarray on the carpet and a huge photo of the three of us rested against one wall, waiting for someone from maintenance to hang. It was, in short, my idea of perfect. Or it had been up until a half hour ago, now it had an air of sadness masking all the happy memories we’d created. My gut clenched and I bit the inside of my cheek, letting the pain pull me back to the here and now.
“I really don’t know. I don’t have a choice, you do. Branson does too. I love you, Milo, both of you but you’re so adamant not to allow yourself this, so what more can I say or do? And if that is the case, if you cannot see yourself leaving New York, then maybe Branson was right, and this is all over.” I scanned the room again, images of me alone in a space like this on the other side of the world making my gut clench uncomfortably.
Home really wasn’t the place, it was the people you shared your life with. Right now, I wasn’t sure who that would be. I wouldn’t ask Branson to leave Milo and come with me, just as I was sure Milo wouldn’t ask him to stay. I knew where I stood, and Milo knew too - what Branson decided to do would be up to him. I’d love them both for the rest of my days, either way.
“This isn’t what I want. I just ca-”
“You can’t, I know, you’ve made that very clear.” Milo was silent and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him because underneath the sadness and guilt, anger stirred and I was afraid at how I’d let it out.
We’d let Branson go, knowing he needed his space but after what felt like hours but could only have been fifteen minutes, Milo stood up. “I should go after him.” He walked towards the door and I moved to follow, just as my phone rang, vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out hastily, thinking it may be Branson but was surprised to see Caleb’s number.
“Caleb.” I answered the call without my usual warm greeting and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck in response to the panic in his voice.
“Noel, where is Branson?” I reached out a hand towards Milo and he stepped closer, his forehead creased with frown lines.
“He just stepped out, why? What’s wrong?” Muffled voices sounded through the phone and an icy chill skated down my spine when I heard August frantically calling Branson’s name on the other end. “Caleb!”
“August was just on a call with him, he was really upset, and then there was a blaring horn and screeching tires and then the line went dead. August can’t get a hold of him. Something’s wrong.”
Ending the call, I stormed to the door, Milo hot on my heels. “What’s going on, Noel? Why was Caleb calling you?” Impatience, panic and fear had me sprinting down the stairs, not willing to wait a second longer for the elevator. “Noel! For fucksake, what’s going on?” Blood rang in my ears and my heart beat an uncontrollable boom boom boom against my ribcage.
“Something’s happened to Branson.” We’d reached the bottom of the stairwell and I charged through the lobby, ignoring the glances from staff and residents and out the front into the chilly night air. My breathing was unsteady as my head swivelled from side to side, trying to work out which way he would have gone. Banging my hands against my forehead, I forced my thoughts to focus, to come up with a plan of action. He was upset, where would he have gone? To a friend? To the park? Back to his apartment?
Turning to head in the direction of their place, I was hit by a gnawing pain in my chest as an ambulance raced past us, its siren blaring and lights flashing. I spun in its direction, my feet hitting the wet ground with hard thumps, splashing in puddles as I sprinted as fast as my stupid work shoes would allow. I rounded a corner, following the sounds of the sirens and my legs turned to stone, rooting me to the ground as I took in the scene in front of me. I vaguely sensed Milo gasping for air, a cry leaving his lips as he came to stand beside me. Red and blue lights bounced against the walls of tall skyscrapers and to one side stood a crowd of gawking pedestrians. In the centre of it all, being lifted onto a stretcher was a mop of blonde hair I would recognise anywhere.
A police officer pulled up alongside us, climbed out of his car and started ushering people away, asking them to give the paramedics space. I was frozen in fear, in guilt, in heartbreak. “Noel?” Milo’s voice was quiet, drawing me away from the stretcher, which had now been loaded into the ambulance. I turned, meeting the tear streaked face of the other man that I loved. “He’s going to be okay, right? He has to be.” Milo was shaking, but I couldn’t bring myself to comfort him because this was as much his fault as it was mine. We did this to Branson. We may not have been driving that car, but we ran him out here.
“I don’t know,” was all I managed to force out before I was moving towards the ambulance. A police officer standing nearby put out an arm to stop me.
“Sir, please take a step back.” The officer wore a stern expression as he spoke to me while keeping an eye on the growing crowd.
“He’s my boyfriend. I need to go with him.” The police officer looked from the paramedics, who were securing Branson on the stretcher, then back to me. His eyes were sympathetic and kind as he nodded, allowing me to pass, but his voice stopped me again before I could reach the vehicle.
“Sorry, you cannot go with them.” Milo. He wanted to be there too. He loved Branson just as much as I did.
“Officer, please let him through, he’s with us,” I asked, tapping my foot and looking back at the ambulance before turning back to Milo.
“Only one of you can ride with him, my suggestion is that the boyfriend goes.”
“We’re both his boyfriend,” I replied and was met by a questioning lift of the officer's brow.
“Sure,” he replied, his tone tinged with disbelief, like I was lying just to get him to let Milo through. I wanted to argue with him and tell him it was true, that we both loved that man so damn much but the paramedics loaded Branson into the ambulance then signalled that they were ready to leave and I had to make the choice to stay or go. And wasn’t that the fucking thing that had gotten us into this situation in the first place?
Milo bent down on his haunches, his head buried in his hands. “Milo?” He looked up at me with wet eyes.
“It’s okay, Noel. I’m okay. You go, I’ll meet you at the hospital.” I hesitated but in the end had to make a choice, so I left Milo there getting the hospital details from the police officer and rushed over in time to climb inside the ambulance with Branson.
Choking back a sob, I rested a hand on his leg while the paramedics tended to him. His blonde hair was a mess, wet and streaked with blood and he had a graze on one side of his face, but apart from that, he looked unharmed and I only hoped that was really the case.
The hospital was quiet, which for a Friday night surprised me. I was asked to stay in a waiting area while Branson was rushed into the emergency room. The room was cold and sterile, with a vending machine and water cooler to one side. A television sat high on one wall, a football game playing silently on the screen. Only a handful of people were in the room, sitting on the grey chairs, various emotions lining their faces as they waited for news of their loved ones. A small boy sat clutching a blue bear in one hand and an older lady's hand in the other. She wore a floral dress which reminded me of one my mother would wear. The child caught my eye and I offered him a weak smile but he buried his face against the lady’s arm and I turned my gaze to a flickering light in the tiled ceiling.
Branson had been unconscious most of the way, waking up dazed and confused moments before we pulled in. Not enough time for me to speak to him, or to make sure for myself that he was going to be alright.
He had to be alright. He was one half of my entire world and I couldn't be without him.
Branson was a bright star, a man with a heart of gold who smiled and laughed freely and who embodied kindness and compassion. Being loved by him was like being wrapped tightly and safely in one of those warm blankets he loved so much.
He had to be okay.
Pacing the room, traversing it from corner to corner, I pulled out my phone and called my personal assistant. I needed to gain back some semblance of control before I lost it and crumpled into a heap on the hospital floor.
“Madeline, I’m sorry to call you so late. I need help.” I filled her in on what had happened and could hear the concern in her voice. “I need you to organise a private room at the hospital and once I know more, I’ll need the names and numbers of the best doctors in the country. Fuck that, in the world. Whatever the cost.” Branson would get all the care he needed.
Milo ran in not long after, he was sweating, and his eyes were bloodshot. “I had to run back to the hotel because I had no way to pay for a cab. I’m sorry it took me so long. How is he?”
“The doctor hasn’t been out again and no one has told me anything.” I pointed towards the ER doors just as a doctor in a white overcoat and teal scrubs stepped out, the doors swinging shut behind him. His eyes scanned the waiting area before he asked, “Who is here for Branson Taylor?” We stepped forward simultaneously and he motioned us towards a corner of the room.
“Is he okay? What can you tell us?” I asked. The doctor scrutinised the two of us, his lips set in a firm line before he spoke again.
“Are you family? His records from a previous visit list August West as his next of kin.” Of course they did, had any of us planned for anything like this? I know I hadn't.
Milo shook his head, his mouth parting when I blurted out, “I’m his fiancé, Noel Bennett. August West - now Winters - is his friend.” Countless TV shows had put this idea in my head that being his fiancé or husband would make the doctor more likely to share his progress with me.
The doctor studied me for a moment but then nodded his understanding. “Well Mr Bennett, I cannot give you the full details without speaking to his next of kin first but what I can tell you is that he is in a stable condition.”
“Stable? What does that mean? Is he awake, can we see him?” The doctors shaking head was like a dagger to the heart. I needed to see him, needed to see with my own eyes that he was okay.
“Mr Taylor was hit side-on by a car. The impact caused him to hit his head on the pavement and while we’ve ruled out a brain injury, the car did hit him at an angle that caused an injury to his spleen. There is some internal bleeding so we are taking him in for surgery now. Once he is awake and conscious, he will be moved to a recovery room and then onto a general ward.”
“Surgery! You just assured us he was stable!” I took a deep breath, steadying my racing pulse, everything was spiralling but I could take control, do what I did best and manage the situation. “Okay,” I let out a breath and shook out my hands which I’d been holding in tight fists. “Who is operating? I need names. And who is the best in this field, get them here now, it doesn’t matter what the cost. He gets the best care there is, understand? And don’t put him in a general ward, he needs a private room.”
The doctor met my eyes with a sympathetic smile. “I understand this is distressing but please trust us to take care of him. I cannot give you any more information or make alternative arrangements without consent from his next of kin. We will try and get hold of Mr Winters as soon as possible. Do you know if he lives in the city?”
Rubbing at the pounding in my chest, I answered the doctor. “No, he’s in Boston at the moment but I’ll get him here as soon as possible.”
“Thank you. I’ll do my best to keep you updated,” the doctor said before nodding and disappearing through the doors to the emergency room. Silence filled the space he vacated and it took me a moment to shake myself and divert my attention from the emergency room door.
“Fiancé, huh? I think he’ll like that. You should make that happen when this is all over and you’re settled in London.” Resignation coated Milo’s words and it occurred to me that he’d settled in his mind that Branson and I would leave together, like the solution was that simple. Milo reached a hand out for me but as his fingertips brushed against my arm I pulled away.
“You’re joking, right? Fucking with me? Because you know as well as I do that he doesn’t just want to be with me. That I don't just want him. Stop acting like you’re not every bit a part of this, like you’re some consolation prize.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for things to go this way. I should have followed after him.”
A rage unlike any I'd experienced before swallowed me up, hitting me unexpectedly. “What you should have done is given us a fucking chance!” I bellowed, catching a warning eye from a passing nurse.
Milo steeled himself, dropping his voice to hard whisper so as not to draw more attention to us. “That’s not fair! You know it’s not that simple for me. You sprang this on us without warning.”
“And tell me, would it have made a difference? If I had told you a month ago, or two months ago? Would anything have changed? Or would you still be flogging this dead horse about my money?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but this isn’t all on me. I’m not the only one to blame here.” He was right, and the guilt and shame, and fear mixed with the anger that I held inside - anger at me, anger at Milo, anger at the world for trying to take not only my dad but now Branson - left me with this overwhelming need to hurt someone or break something. To pass on just an ounce of the pain that was eating me up onto something else. And Milo, one of the loves of my life, was there, his face marred by guilt, a mirror of my own. So, I made him my punching bag.
Maybe I wasn't the good man I always thought I was because I didn't stop myself even when my words caused him to pale. “You know what? You’re right, we’ll make it work on our own. You're not needed here. You didn’t want to be with us, so just leave." It wasn’t fair, and I knew it and the last pieces of my already broken heart fell to a heap at my feet as his tears fell and he turned with a dip of his chin and walked away.
I wanted to chase him and yell at him, tell him to fight for us but what was the point when he had so clearly made up his mind?
Taking a seat and pulling out my phone, I messaged Caleb and offered him my jet, but he said they were already at the airport, waiting to hear if they had gotten a seat on a flight leaving in the next hour. There was nothing more I could do but sit and wait. Holding my head in my hands, I did just that. Nurses and doctors scurried past, paramedics brought in more patients but no one spoke to me. As every second and minute ticked by that no one came with an update, my heart sank further into despair.
I'd failed.
My job was to protect them, to take care of them and I'd let them both down. My men - the one lying damaged in a hospital bed and the other somewhere in this city plagued by hurt that I caused. Words that I said and the way I’d dismissed him as though he wasn’t a vital part of us. Milo may have had a hand to play in this but I was the one who ruined us.