Sebastian looked apologetic. “My arm. I think it’s broken too. Or maybe it’s just sprained.” Sebastian’s left arm hung limply at his side.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Dread filled Owen at the idea of causing Sebastian pain.
“Is there anywhere else?”
“The back of my head. I think I hit it on the rocks. Or maybe it was a tree.”
The rocks? Sebastian had been flung against rocks and trees? Owen wanted to know what happened but there would be time enough for that later. Right now he needed to make getting Sebastian some medical help a priority.
This time, using a lot more care, Owen assisted Sebastian to his feet. “Wait here a second.” He left Sebastian standing at the side of the bed and raced to the wardrobe. He pulled the door open, fighting against the drag caused by the wet carpet. The top shelf held spare blankets and he pulled one of those down and hurried to the bed with it. Once the bed was covered with the clean and dry blanket, Owen manoeuvred Sebastian down. The moisture would no doubt soak through quickly, but for now the surface was dry and, most importantly, it was clean.
Sebastian sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, his hurt arm hanging limp, using his good arm to grasp his ribs, and his flinch was unmistakable. Owen cringed as he saw the flash of pain cross Sebastian’s features.
“Wait here, babe.” He tried to keep his voice as upbeat as possible, not wanting Sebastian to see how panicked he was. “I’ll be back in a sec with some stuff.”
Owen grabbed a couple of extra blankets, hurrying to wrap them around Sebastian’s shoulders. From the look of Sebastian’s pallor and his shaking, he was at risk of hypothermia and no doubt going into shock. He needed to be warmed and quickly.
Owen dashed into the bathroom. The usually pristine white room was awash with grey instead of the sparkling white porcelain. Dirty water was pooled on the floor but thank God the medicine cabinet was mounted on the wall. Above waist height, it had missed the worst of the water. Owen ignored his own dishevelled and pasty reflection in the cabinet mirror as he pulled the door open. He grabbed disinfectant and cottonballs, plus a bottle of ibuprofen.Should Sebastian take the painkillers? What if he has a concussion? Are you supposed to give medication to people with a head injury?Owen shoved the small bottle into his pocket anyway.
Back in the bedroom, Owen hurried to Sebastian. He dropped to his knees on the soggy carpet and peered up anxiously at his pale face. It was obvious that Sebastian was in a lot of pain. His breathing was shallow, and he kept his good arm wrapped around his ribs. His hair was a bird’s nest, sticking out all over his head and clumped in damp sandy strands. His complexion was pale, apart from the side of his face that was pink and red from scratches, and the bruises forming on his forehead. Even though the bed was damp, Owen supported Sebastian’s arm and helped him lie down, tucking the blankets around him as best he could.
Owen worked quickly and gently, removing the shredded garment then cleaning the wounds, desperate to ensure Sebastian didn’t face infection, but feeling sick inside at the knowledge he was causing Sebastian even more pain.
“I knew you’d come,” Sebastian whispered.
Owen looked up from the graze he was dabbing with Dettol. Sebastian’s eyes were filled with so much love, albeit tinged with pain, but his smile was wonderful. Owen smiled back, even though tears threatened to fall again. “Of course, baby, where else would I be?” He began the process of disinfecting the angry red streaks on Sebastian’s cheeks.
“When the wave came, it was unreal, you know?” Owen nodded at Sebastian’s words. “I wasn’t sure what was happening. I wasn’t very far out when the tide went funny, and the rocks—there were rocks exposed that I didn’t even know were there.” Sebastian’s voice quavered. “Then… then the water all came back. It… it was… water everywhere, and rushing, and over and over. I lost the kayak. And there was stuff in thewater. I’m not sure what, but I hit my head. Oh, fuck, Owen.” Sebastian’s breath heaved, and he flinched from the action. “I thought I was going to drown. That I was going to die.”
The tears started to fall then, as Sebastian fell apart. Owen tried to take him into his arms, trying to be gentle lest he cause him more pain, but Sebastian was manoeuvring himself into the hug, heedless of his injuries.
Owen placed tender kisses to his cheek, the taste of Sebastian’s tears mixing with the bitter antiseptic, but nothing mattered more than showing Sebastian that he was there. Owen needed to let Sebastian know he was safe in his arms.
And he was never going to let him go.
Epilogue
Six months later
Outside of the house would be cold—Tasmania could be freezing in winter—but inside was a snug and safe haven. The frigid southerly had brought icy winds and pouring rain over the past week, but this morning was bright and clear. The bare branches of a tree that had dropped its last leaf weeks ago, scratched on the window in the slight breeze. Owen made a note to get out in the garden and prune it back. Not today though. Today was an inside day. He had plans for Sebastian and those plans didn’t involve them leaving the house—better still, maybe he could convince Sebastian to spend most of the day in bed. He smiled at the thought.
This time of the morning was always special. Owen loved waking up under the same roof as Sebastian, and it was even better when Sebastian was beside him. In fact, they hadn’t spent a night apart since that fateful day back in January, all except the first night when the doctors had insisted on keeping Sebastian in hospital overnight for his head injury, and then a second night after his arm was repaired. Actually, they hadn’teven spent those nights apart. Owen had spent the nights tossing and turning in a cracked vinyl reclining armchair, never leaving Sebastian’s bedside, unable to let him out of his sight for even a moment.
He rolled over and looked at Sebastian’s empty side of the bed, the dip in the pillow where his head had laid. The sheets were cold beneath his fingers, but given the sounds coming from the kitchen, that was no surprise. Sebastian was definitely a morning person and had obviously been up for a while. The clattering of utensils gave a pretty big clue he was preparing breakfast. The strains of a ballad—Sam Smith—floated down the hall, the sound of the song further brightening the day. Owen stretched as he listened to Sam sing about not being the only one, enjoying the pull of his muscles, and grateful he was Sebastian’s only one. He had a fleeting thought of how corny that was as he snuggled back into the bedclothes, enjoying the warmth.
Owen was just drifting off again, his eyelids heavy with sleep, when Sebastian roused him.
“Hey, you.” He placed a laden timber tray on top of the dresser and sat on the side of the bed. “Did you sleep well?”
Sebastian leaned over and Owen reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck. “You know I did.” He smiled and pulled Sebastian down for a kiss. “Mmm. You taste like coffee.”
Sebastian nodded. “You will too if you sit up to have your breakfast.”
“Mmm. I need some caffeine. Thanks, babe.” Owen levered himself up, scooting his butt back and propping a couple of pillows behind his back. Once he was comfortably leaning against the headboard, Sebastian straightened the covers before bringing the tray to rest on Owen’s lap.
