Tim appeared quite buoyed by his interesting afternoon but his face fell a little when he saw Ben and Nikolas entwined and clearly so complete in each other’s company. He turned away suddenly like a man who’d just realised what he’d lost. Perhaps he and John had spent many cold, wet January evenings doing just what Ben and Nikolas were now. It was clearly a bit of a downer after an invigorating, if probably profane, afternoon.
“You guys eaten yet?”
When Ben said they hadn’t, Tim volunteered to order something in. Nikolas didn’t object—but then he had his eyes closed and didn’t appear to be bothered what anyone else did as long as they left him alone. Before the food arrived, however, he excused himself and went up to bed.
Ben couldn’t manage much of his meal after that; Radulf had to bravely take up the slack. Tim told him Chinese probably wasn’t good for him, but Radulf disagreed. Tim, toying with a prawn cracker, finally asked, “Is it me being here?”
Ben shook his head swiftly. “God, no. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Go up to him, Ben. Just be there. It may not seem like he wants you to, but he does.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Maybe it’s best not to know someone so well to see the truth. I think you saw John better than I did, and we’d been together twelve years. Nikolas is afrai—No, Ben, listen. I know you don’t want to think it, but he is—he’s scared. He’s sick—maybe for the first time in his life, facing something he can’t fight. Oh, hell, what am I saying? Ignore me. What do I know? Look at me…” He pushed his plate away, staring morosely out at the dark beyond the brightly lit kitchen. “I wonder what John and the bastard baby are doing now.”
“Each other, probably. How did it go with Squeezy?”
“Who?”
Ben frowned. No one usually forgot Squeezy.
“You mean Michael?”
“Michael. Seriously?” Ben chuckled. “Michael. So?”
Tim smirked. “Go upstairs, Ben. You’re needed.”
Ben took his advice. He used the spare bathroom and then slid very quietly into bed so as not to wake Nikolas. He smiled when a hand snaked out and pulled him close. Nikolas breathed deeply into Ben’s short hair. “Hello, Benjamin.”
Ben could have cried at the familiar and so welcome greeting. He pulled him closer and breathed into Nikolas’s ear, “Hello, baby.”
Nikolas stilled for a moment in Ben’s arms. “That’s twice you’ve used that ridiculous term.”
“Mmm, I know. It suits you.”
Ben heard a deep sigh. “You’re the stupidest person I know, Benjamin Rider.” And then Nikolas was asleep in his arms. He kissed the shorn, scarred head and thought to himself if stupidity led to being in this bed, holding this man, then he wouldn’t swap dumbness for all of Nikolas’s smarts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The appointment with the doctor was in the afternoon. Ben announced he’d take Radulf to the park early, get some shopping in and be back in time so he could drive.
They couldn’t park outside the smart Harley Street address, so Ben double-parked and Nikolas climbed out. “Text me when you’re done, and I’ll swing by again.” Nikolas shook his head. “I’ll get a taxi back.” He adjusted his immaculate suit, which didn’t need any adjustment at all, and breezed into the imposing building as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
When he was called in, Nikolas and the doctor eyed each other openly for a moment, judging and assessing. Dr Andrea Gillian’s slightly patronising smirk told Nikolas that she was well aware she didn’t fit most people’s expectations of a trauma specialist. He eyed her petite femininity with alarm. He didn’t like women particularly, and his recent experiences had done nothing to endear them to him. This doctor was disconcerting, and he wasn’t at his best to start with. Summoning his aloof air of cool disinterest, he sat obediently to her gesture of welcome and faced her, masks in place.
“So, what appears to be the problem, Mr Mikkelsen? You look as if you’ve been in the wars.”
“Yes.”
“You have a head injury? Do you mind…?” She rose and came out from behind her desk, all four foot nothing and heels. Nikolas tipped his head to one side obediently as she felt around his scarring. He closed his eyes. This close, the intimacy of being touched by a stranger, a woman, was overpowering. “You told my nurse this happened recently in Denmark, I believe?”
“Yes. An ice hockey game.”
“It’s healing very well indeed.” She moved over to the other side, probing where Gabby had originally hit him with one of Ben’s pine logs, they’d concluded, then she returned to her dominant position behind the desk. “So, what brings you here today?”
Nikolas pursed his lips. He wanted to claim something dramatic and manly…an amputation, possibly?—gunshot?—but eventually he reluctantly admitted, “I have headaches.”
She sat up a little higher and began to take notes. “Have you ever suffered from headaches in the past?”
