I was about to open my eyes to let him know I was fine, but I had a feeling he would never bare his soul like this if he knew I was conscious. And just like him, I was a coward too. Selfish too.
I needed to hear this. I needed to know what he felt towards me, especially after what happened last night. I needed to know that we had not broken the most important thing in my life. That we were going to be okay. So I kept my eyes closed and pretended I was still unconscious.
“And I was ashamed of that. I was ashamed that after my parents had kicked me to the curb because I was gay, I couldn’t even deny it anymore — because here I was, falling in love with a man. So I locked my heart away. I vowed to myself I would never act on my thoughts. Impure, like my parents and the priest had labeled them.”
I felt his hands around mine — rough, calloused palms wrapped tight. The weight of his forehead rested against my knuckles.
“Just don’t die on me, Viktor.”
9
Chapter 9
I was doing cartwheels inside my mind. He liked me? Slipping on penguin poop was worth it. He liked me! Sam Beckett actually fancied me. I wanted to shout from the rooftops — well, the top of the helicopter.
As soon as I could manage to get my bearings straight. How hard did I hit my head? Jeez.
I felt the chopper slowing and within a few minutes we were doing the opposite of what we had done on the island. I was strapped into the basket and lowered down. On the island there had been only penguins. Here there was a small reception committee waiting for me.
This time I closed my eyes and pretended to be unconscious out of sheer embarrassment.
I was shifted onto a gurney and then people were running, and I was swiftly taken down the corridors and into Daniel’s clinic. I could hear several voices talking around me. Everyone was worried about me. I wanted to shrivel up and die. I was never going to let them know I had slipped on bird poop. I needed to come up with a more dramatic story — maybe that I had tried to fight a leopard seal barehanded.
Daniel’s serious voice sounded close. “Viktor?”
Like a student caught red-handed, my eyes snapped open. “Da?”
A cheer went up all around me. Daniel was smiling down at me. “You’re such a pain in the butt, you know that?” he said, his stethoscope tracking down my chest.
“I know.” I grinned. My eyes sought out the man responsible for my sudden jubilant mood.
And there he was. Standing slightly off to the side. Sam.
As soon as our eyes met he flattened his lips and I knew he was fighting something big. Sam Beckett never showed emotions in front of anyone — hardly even in front of me — and I had put him through such anguish.
Daniel’s clinic was small and smelled of antiseptic and recycled air. He had me on the narrow bed closest to the door, a blood pressure cuff still velcroed around my upper arm.
“Follow my finger.” He moved it left, right, up, down. I tracked it without effort.
“Good. Any nausea?”
“No.”
“Headache?”
“Some. Back of the skull.”
“On a scale of one to ten.”
“Three. Maybe four.”
He made a note on his iPad. “Vision blurry at any point since you came in?”
“No.”
“Any confusion? Disorientation?”
“Daniel. I know who I am, I know where I am, and I know exactly how embarrassing this whole situation is.”
