Chapter Eleven

 

 

WHERE THE hell was the doctor? He wanted to go home. Jerry marched from one end of his hospital room to the other, his sports pants torn open over his cast and flapping. Crutches were no big deal. Come on. He’d been at the emergency treatment center twenty-four hours, which was about twenty-three-and-a-half too long.

A tap on the half-closed door made him look up. Donovan. “Hey, rook. Thanks for coming. I’m supposed to be leaving here in a few minutes.”

“I know. I’m taking you home.”

“That’s nice.” Funny how he wished it was another firefighter.

“I asked the cap if I could. Your friends Hunter and Rodney were going to get you, but I told them I’d be here.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“So how are you doing?”

“Good, man. I just want out of here.” He propelled himself to the window and back. “I’m antsy.”

Donovan laughed. “You should take it easy. You nearly died, man.”

“Nah.”

“Yeah. If it wasn’t for Mick Cassidy, you’d be french fries. Give yourself a break.”

Man, that thought had his heart beating pretty hard. “I heard he got me out. FAST and all that.”

Donovan shrugged. “He’s not saying much, but I saw the condition of that wing of the house. I’m guessing the guy went through hell to get you. And he didn’t have any help. Maybe the opposite. Cap fired Straight.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. And I think it was over something that happened when they went in for you. Something Mick told him.”

Flame and heat. Everywhere. Yeah, that much he remembered. “So where the hell is Cassidy?”

The door opened wider, and the doctor came in with a nurse beside him pushing a wheelchair. “Were you asking about Mick Cassidy?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

The young doctor laughed. “No, but he’s called about five times since they brought you in. Wouldn’t let anyone tell him no. He threw around his firefighter credentials until they finally put him through to me. I told him the two of you must be related since you were as big a pain in the ass as he is.”

Jerry propped himself against the edge of the bed and laughed. “Hey, Doc, I been meaning to ask. Have you got a surfing cast I can wear?”

“Jerry, you’re going to stay off that leg for at least three weeks, and then we’ll see.”

“Three weeks. Damn. But I can sit at a desk, right?”

“Yes, I’ve told your captain that after a week you can go back to light desk duty. It’s a bad break, Jerry. You’re young and strong, so I expect it to heal well, but don’t push your luck.”

“Okay.”

“Now sit down in the chair and get the royal escort out.”

He plopped down into the wheelchair and pulled his crutches across his knees. The nurse started pushing, and Donovan fell in beside her.

So Mick had saved his life, big-time. That didn’t surprise him. Hell, the guy was a hero down to the ground. But he’d been calling the hospital. What exactly did that mean?

Since firefighters had great health care, it didn’t take much time to check out. Outside, he figured out the system for getting into a car quickly. Passenger seat. Balance and stow the sticks. Sit on the edge, swing in the cast, then follow with the right leg and close the door. Like falling off a board, man. And since it was his left leg, he’d be driving by tomorrow.

Donovan got in the driver’s side. Jerry waved to the nurse, and they were off.

They rode in silence toward Laguna for a couple of minutes. Not a peaceful quiet—it felt like Donovan had something to say. “Okay, rook, spit it out.”

“Huh?”

“What are you deciding to say or not say?”

Donovan gripped the wheel. “I don’t want to interfere.”

“With what?”

He glanced over then back at the road. “Uh, I just thought you ought to know that when he brought you out, Mick about ripped the medic’s head off until he found out you were alive. Then he cried. Two hundred fifty pounds of Cassidy crying is not a sight you forget. Like I said, I think he went way beyond the call to save you. I just figure most guys don’t cry over another guy unless, you know, they like them.”

“You saying Mick Cassidy likes me?”

The kid stared out the windshield like he’d be blinded if he looked at Jerry. “Well, not just ‘like’ like. I mean, I like you.”

“You saying Mick Cassidy is gay?”

“Holy shit. That does seem unlikely, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s go ask him.”

“What?” He looked at Jerry now.

“Yeah. I know where he lives. Let’s stop by so I can thank him.”

“But the doctor said—”

“I promise to keep my leg elevated.” Jerry laughed.

 

 

MICK LISTENED to the clicking of the computer keys and paced. Did he dare call that doctor again? Come on, he wanted to know. The last time the doc said Jerry was doing as well as could be expected. Damn, how well was that?

Jezebel kept clicking. “Mick, will you please sit down?”

“No. I’m going to the hospital.”

She turned in her chair. “Well, okay, then. Maybe I can go by and turn in a couple of job applications while we’re out.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“If I don’t come, you’ll barge in there demanding to know Jerry’s condition.”

“Yeah.”

“At least I have some tact left.” She got up and grabbed her purse.

At the knock on the door, they both froze. She looked wide-eyed. They’d practiced what to do if her father showed up. He hid the computer under the couch, and she raced to the tiny kitchenette, pulled out the teapot and two cups, and set them on the table.

Mick crossed to the door and peeked. Donovan. “False alarm. It’s somebody from the station.” What did the rook want?

He opened the door, and a crutch swung in from the side. Then a golden head and a pretty face with a plastic bandage over the burn.

He just stared. Well, hell. His eyes shifted to the flight of fourteen steps that led to his apartment over the garage. “Have you lost your mind? How did you get up here?”

He stepped out on the porch, grabbed Jerry, and picked him up in his arms. Crutches went flying. Donovan ducked.

Jerry laughed. “Whoa, big guy. You already did the rescuing. I’m fine now. Of course, Donovan may need a crutch soon if you knock him down the stairs.”

Mick looked at Donovan.

The kid cringed. “He said the crutches were way easier than a surfboard.”

Mick hefted Jerry higher and marched into the apartment, letting Donovan follow with the crutches. In the middle of the floor, Jezebel met them with her hands on her hips. “Well, this is a sight.”

Jerry reached out a hand to her. “Jezebel, you’ve got brains. Tell this big dude that I’m fine and can walk on my own.”

She shook her head. “Not a chance. In fact, I think Mr. Donovan and I should leave and you two can fight this out.”

Mick tensed. Be alone with Jerry? Damn, he wished he didn’t want it.

Donovan beamed at Jezebel. “Great idea. In fact, I was going to ask Mick for your number to see if you’d like to have lunch with me sometime. How about now?”

She looked pretty happy. “I’d love to, but I have to drop off these job applications first.”

Jerry seemed to have settled into Mick’s arms, and Mick wasn’t objecting. Jerry said, “What kind of job you looking for?”

She shrugged. “I’ve applied to school at the College of Art and Design, but I’ll take any job. Heck, fast food in a pinch.”

Jerry waved a hand. “Donovan, take Jezebel to the Underwood Gallery on Forest. My friend David runs it, and he needs a new assistant since JJ”—he pointed to the floor—“the guy who works for him, is on his way to being an interior decorator. Tell whoever is working that I sent you.”

Jezebel wasn’t a bouncing type, but she bounced. “Thank you, thank you so much. I know it’s no guarantee, but having your recommendation means so much.”

Jerry cocked his head. “What does your father think of you going to school?”

She frowned. “He doesn’t know. Right now he thinks I’m coming here because Mick is courting me. You know, Mick. The guy who happens to be holding you in his arms.”

Mick’s ears flamed. He slowly let Jerry down to his feet.

She smiled. “Hey, I didn’t mean to spoil the moment. Take me to lunch, Donovan. Right after I go try to get my first job.” She gave a little fist pump and pranced out the door with Donovan grinning like a dumbass behind her. Guys sure made idiots of themselves over women.

Donovan left the door open, and Mick walked over and closed it.

Quiet. Oh God. What now? He turned slowly. Jerry was still standing where Mick had set him. “So, you’re honestly okay?”

The dimples flashed. “I’ll be better if you hand me those crutches.” He pointed to the wall beside the door where Donovan had left them.

“Oh, sorry.” He grabbed the crutches and gave them to Jerry. He positioned himself in about one second and hopped his way to the couch like he’d been on those sticks for years. Then he settled on the small love seat.

Mick walked over and stood by the big window that looked out over a lot of rooftops to a tiny sliver of ocean. So he had what he wanted. Jerry, safe and sound. Now what did he want?

Jerry’s voice was soft. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“No big deal.”

“Yeah, sure. Mick, I was there too, man. I admit I passed out before you got there, but I saw the fix I was in before I hit the ground. I was wiped. No chance of survival. I’ve got no idea how you did it, but I’m grateful, man, really grateful.”

“God did it.” Mick turned, walked over to the chair beside the love seat, and sat.

“Yeah. Well, God helps those who help themselves.”

“No, seriously. I got to where you were, and I saw that there was no way to get back. So I had this conversation with God.”

Jerry smiled. “I seem to remember saying a few things to the Big Guy myself before I lost consciousness.”

“I told him if he felt the way my father says he does, then I didn’t care about him because he was screwed up, and I might as well die and go to hell and be with you.”

Jerry stared at him, those full lips parted.

“And I guess God called my bluff, because right then the wall of the house collapsed, and I picked you up and carried you out easy as you please.” He looked up. Jerry looked stunned.

He slipped down on one knee in front of Jerry. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“You wanted to be with me?”

“Sure. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to be with forever.”

“Why?”

Mick smiled and took hold of Jerry’s hands. “That’s easy. You’re kind, and good, and funny. And so damned smart I’d be learning new stuff from you forever. Hell sounded pretty good with you in it.”

Jerry just shook his head back and forth.

He sighed. “But I guess hell would have been the easy way out.”

Jerry nodded. “It’s harder to live than to die.”

Mick sat on the floor at Jerry’s feet. “I was thinking I’d leave here. Go somewhere and start over. Leave my father and that whole gang behind.”

Jerry’s voice was very soft. “And me? Leave me behind?”

Mick looked up into those bluer than blue eyes. “That’s the hard part. That’s why I’m still here. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Why?”

“You’re sure full of whys. Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

Jerry ran a hand across Mick’s cheek. It felt so nice. “I am your friend. Am I your lover?”

Mick’s breath caught. Weird. Half horror. Half delight. “I don’t know.”

Jerry’s fingers roamed into his hair, and he pressed his head against Jerry’s palm. “Wherever you go, you have to decide. Are you gay, Mick?”

“You said I am. Jezebel says I am.”

“We may think so, but you have to decide for yourself.”

Mick frowned. “I thought it wasn’t a choice.”

“It’s not, but there are plenty of guys walking around pretending they’re not gay. A lot of them end up freaking out their wives and kids when they get caught in some bathroom fucking a twink.”

Mick stared at the floor. “People hate you because you’re gay.”

“Yep.”

Mick took in a big breath. Suddenly that moment in the fire washed over him. “But God doesn’t hate you.”

Jerry shrugged. “I guess that depends on who you ask.”

Mick shook his head. “No. My father’s always talking about signs. Well, I got a sign in that burning house. God doesn’t care if you’re gay. He loves you anyway.”

Jerry smiled real soft. “That’s nice to know.” He sighed. “But people don’t love you anyway, Mick. Most people aren’t as bad as your father and Straight, but they still don’t want me marrying their brother.”

Mick rested his head on Jerry’s knee. “Nobody’s ever loved me.” He looked up. A shiver ran up his spine. “Wow. I never said that out loud before.”

Jerry shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is. Nobody loves me.” It felt like a light shone in his brain. “Nobody loves me because nobody knows me.” He looked up at Jerry. “Damn, that’s true. I don’t even love me.”

The silence stretched out for seconds.

He almost didn’t hear Jerry’s voice. “But I do.”