Couch or otherwise. Jodi’s breath caught in his throat, but Rupert was already getting ready to leave.
Jodi walked him to the door. “It was really nice to see you again.”
“Yeah? Even though I chewed your ear off about my ex-wife?”
“Of course. Seriously, mate. I don’t mind. Just wish you hadn’t had to go through all that.”
Rupert smiled, and the fatigue in his face seemed to fade. “You’re the first person to give a shit in quite some time. Question is: why do you?”
Jodi shrugged. “Dunno. I just do.”
And it was true. Rupert had been on his mind a lot since they’d first met. Their second meeting had proved nothing like his dirty, late-night fantasies, but in the dim light of the hallway, it felt right. Perhaps they’d never revisit that fuck-hot kiss, perhaps they weren’t meant to, but Jodi could live with being friends—
Jodi’s back hit the door. He sucked in a breath and suddenly found himself caged in Rupert’s arms, their faces—like that night—inches apart. They stared at each other, teetering on the precipice of something explosive, until Jodi remembered the distress in Rupert’s gaze when he’d accidentally shoved Jodi to the floor.
Slow. Don’t push him. Even if I think he wants me to.
Yeah, ’cause some days even Jodi was still learning. He took Rupert’s face in his hands and kissed him, lightly at first, but then deep ...slowand deep, like he could calm his own hammering heart with the brush of his lips against Rupert’s. Like he didn’t know better. Like he didn’t know that Rupert’s touch, however hesitant, would light him on fire.
Rupert gasped and pressed his body into Jodi’s. Jodi lifted his leg and hooked it over Rupert’s hip, grinding them together until his every nerve was ready to combust.Pull away, pull away.But he couldn’t. Backed against the door, he had nowhere to go, nowhere hewantedto go, and his good intentions edged toward the proverbial window, ready to jump.
Just one more kiss ...
Rupert withdrew. He laid his forehead against Jodi’s and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “Jesus Christ, you get under my skin.”
Jodi shuddered and closed his eyes, absorbing the warmth of Rupert’s body, which was still keeping him upright. “Come back soon, yeah? We can get under the duvet instead.”
Three
September 26, 2014
Turned out Rupert hadn’t imagined the twitch in Jodi’s hand. After that first time, it happened every day, but the neurologist had flatly confirmed it was nothing more than a muscle spasm. Rupert absorbed the news with little emotion. Jodi had been in a coma for weeks, and he’d grown used to any sign of recovery turning out to be a symptom of Jodi’s prolonged vegetative state.
Vegetative state. Jesus fucking Christ. It was a term Rupert had only seen on TV before, and despite the doctor’s reassurances that it wasn’t necessarily permanent, the phrase haunted him as he kept his vigil at Jodi’s bedside, went to work, and lay awake at home, counting the hours until the hospital let him in again.
The only break in the torture was when the physical therapist came in to manipulate Jodi’s body to combat the muscle wastage ravaging his already slight frame. Rupert liked to think Jodi enjoyed the young Asian man’s attention. The therapist was good-looking with the kind of easy smile Jodi loved, and the thought of Jodi opening his eyes to that grin was oddly comforting. It was a shame the therapist hadn’t smiled today, a week after Jodi’s hand first moved. Instead, he’d discovered a blood clot in Jodi’s injured arm and alerted the ICU doctors. Jodi had been rushed to surgery in the blink of an eye, and he’d yet to return.
Rupert stood and walked to the waiting room’s wide window. Outside, the hospital car park seemed to go on forever. He counted every car he could see—sixty-eight—and wondered if the window’s placement had been deliberate in the hospital’s design. If the architects had known the distraction of counting cars would be far more soothing than the blandness of some pretty flowers.
“Rupert?”
Rupert turned. Caz, Jodi’s primary nurse stood in the doorway. “He’s back. You can come and see him now.”
“Thank you.” Rupert followed Caz to Jodi’s bedside. She scribbled on the fat wad of notes at the end of the bed, touched Rupert’s arm, and disappeared, leaving Rupert alone with Jodi.
He took in Jodi’s prone form—the wires, the tubes—then peered closer at his pale face, losing himself in the dark circles under Jodi’s eyes. How was it possible for him to look so tired when he’d done nothing but sleep for sixty-three days? As Rupert claimed Jodi’s hand and dropped into a chair, it struck him darkly ironic that Jodi had spent the day pumped full of anaesthetic when he was already so deeply unconscious that he was practically dead.
Stop it.
Rupert silenced the demon on his shoulder, the harsh adversary that kept him awake almost as much as his constant fear that Jodi would never come back to him. He squeezed Jodi’s good hand. There was no response. Defeated, he closed his eyes and let his head drop, breathing in the stale antiseptic scent of the hospital. The ICU ward was stifling and claustrophobic and in the harsh light of the early morning, it was unbearable. His heart quickened, his skin prickled, and for the first time in the four years since he’d met Jodi, he felt uncomfortable in his own skin, a feeling that was exacerbated by the creeping sensation of someone watching him.
Seriously?Rupert beat his irritation back and pressed his fist into his forehead, but it wouldn’t quit. He sighed and opened his eyes. Madness had threatened to overcome him so often since Jodi’s accident that it had begun to feel like an old friend, like a droll antidote to the pessimistic monster in his mind. Sometimes he welcomed the distraction, but not today. Today he craved the distressing gravity of his reality, something—anything—to tie him down to the world. He returned his attention to Jodi, seeking out the bitter reassurance of his serene, sleeping face. Instead, an unseeing dark gaze staring back nearly sent him to his knees.
* * *
February 26, 2010
Are you working tonight?
