Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

THE HOSPITAL was bloody awful. The cold, sterile waiting room brought back unwanted memories of the hours Finn had spent waiting to hear how his dad was after the accident that saw his bike wrapped around a tree. Then there was more time spent at the hospital praying for Carl to recover. And all he could think about was how both those times turned out.

Thankfully Pete was still fighting, but it looked like he had a long battle ahead of him.

The only thing that helped lighten the darkness in Finn’s heart—the darkness the memories and watching his friend nearly get killed had stirred up—was the sight of Mitch’s car in the driveway when he arrived home. Finn jumped from the Uber and nearly flew into the house.

He rushed through the house until he came across Mitch in the kitchen. The sight nearly tore his already vulnerable heart apart. Mitch was standing in front of the kitchen sink, his palms on the benchtop, staring out the window into the backyard beyond.

Finn hesitated at the doorway, suddenly unsure how to approach. Their relationship was so complicated. Too bad they could never have a proper relationship—Rocky would kill both of them—and too bad Mitch wasn’t one of the good guys. Finn’s head warned him to keep his involvement with anyone even remotely attached to the Soldiers at a minimum, but it was too late for that. And the strange thing was, no matter how much Finn tried to apply reason and logic, his heart saw something in Mitch that represented goodness, caring, and security and drew Finn like a magnet. Finn just didn’t know if he could trust those feelings.

All this rushed through his head in the few seconds he stood on the threshold to the room. His gaze moved from Mitch to the window. Mitch wasn’t gazing into the yard; it was dark outside, and with the light of the kitchen, Finn could see Mitch was actually watching him in the reflection. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tense, and it was then Finn could see the shaking in his shoulders, as if Mitch were gripping the benchtop for grim life.

Fuck it!

He needed Mitch. He needed to feel close to someone, to be held, and not feel so alone. More than that, he needed to reach out and give Mitch comfort. And if Mitch wasn’t going to come to him, then he was damn well going to Mitch, and fuck the consequences.

By the time he’d taken the five steps to reach Mitch, Mitch swung around, and there was no hesitation in their coming together. They clung to each other, and Finn let the emotions wash over him. The hold was warm and strong, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed so far away.

Finally they separated, and he looked into Mitch’s eyes. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” Mitch’s voice was shaky and his expression pinched. “I’m more worried about you. And Pete.”

Warmth flooded Finn at Mitch’s concern, and he smiled gently. “I’ve had better days, but Pete’s hanging on. There was nothing more I could do at the hospital, so I came home, and they’ll call me if there’s any change. His parents are there. Someone—the cops, maybe?—must have got in touch with them. Thank God, really, otherwise I don’t think I would have found out much about his condition.”

“What did the doctors say?”

Finn was aware Pete and Mitch had known each other for a while, ever since they worked together, but he wasn’t entirely sure of the level of their friendship. The fact he now knew they were both gay, and the looks Finn had noticed pass between them, indicated there’d perhaps been something more than friendship, but neither of them said anything. Although Finn remembered Pete’s words about trusting Mitch: “You can trust him. The rest of them are arseholes, but not Mitch. Mitch, he’s one of the good guys. He’ll be on your side.” Finn bit back the jealousy at the thought of Mitch and Pete together and carefully considered how to pass on the information. Best to focus on the facts and be unemotional.

“He’s got a broken leg, but that’s easily fixed. The bleeding from his head was quickly stopped, and I think they gave him a transfusion to replace all the blood he lost. But they’re worried about his brain. He fractured his skull when he hit the road, so they’re monitoring him for swelling. They were going to take him into surgery and—I’m not sure of the official terms—drill a hole in his skull and insert a tube that connects to a computer. Supposedly it will detect changes in pressure in his head. If the pressure gets too much, then they’ll take him back to surgery and remove a part of his skull to give his brain room to expand.”

“Jesus.”

Mitch wobbled slightly, and Finn tugged him to him. “It sounds worse than it is,” he said, trying to keep his voice strong and even, hoping his words would calm Mitch. “By taking off some of his skull and giving his brain room, it stops the brain damage that would result from his brain being constricted. The doctors seem hopeful that Pete will make it.” He lowered his voice. “Although they can’t guarantee he’ll make a total recovery because they don’t know how much damage has already been done. They won’t know until he wakes up.”

“He’s been through so much already. His body’s pretty fucked-up from the drugs and his efforts to give them up. Fuck, the last time Pete was in rehab, it nearly killed him. I don’t know if he’s strong enough to get through this.”

The depth of Mitch’s concern and his knowledge of the personal stuff in Pete’s life reinforced in Finn’s mind what he had been thinking. Mitch and Peter are closer than I thought. More than just friends?

Pete’s words echoed again: “There’s stuff you don’t know, stuff I want to tell you.”

Finn shook his head to clear his thoughts and met Mitch’s eyes.

“There’s no point worrying about it now, and nothing we can do. We need to trust he’ll be okay. The doctors are doing everything they can,” Finn said. “C’mon, let’s get ready for bed. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a long day, and I know I could use some sleep.”

Mitch pulled back slightly and met his eyes, a little of the lost look having disappeared. His lips turned up with a hint of a gentle smile. “You’ve had a shit day too. Sorry to be dumping my crap on you.”

“We all have pasts and the associated baggage. I’m just happy I can be here for you. I’m glad you got my message and agreed to come back here and wait for me.”

“Of course I’d wait for you.”

I wonder if it’s because it’s his job? Finn pushed the unwanted thought away. “Well, I appreciate you being here. I don’t want to be alone.”

Mitch pulled him in tight. Finn sank into the hug, melting into Mitch’s firm body. “You’re not alone. Not tonight,” Mitch whispered against his ear.

Finn wished that were the case all the time, not just tonight. At some point Mitch would move on, and where would that leave Finn? But he’d worry about that later. Right now he had Mitch, and he’d make the most of every moment. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Mitch drew back and looked him in the eye. “To bed?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

He tugged Mitch from the kitchen and flicked the light switch on his way past, plunging the room into darkness. Their boots echoed on the floorboards as they made their way up the hall, relying on the small amount of moonlight that outlined the bedroom door. Once inside, Finn turned on the lamp, bathing the bed in a warm golden light. The bed looked so appealing that he wanted nothing better than to climb between the sheets, and knowing Mitch would be beside him all night reassured him he’d sleep easy. With a smile, Finn emptied his pockets and finally turned to face Mitch, who stood just inside the bedroom doorway. He was looking at Finn as if he was waiting for something.

“Mitch?”

“Sorry.” Mitch’s deep voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Do? Do what?”

“I need a cigarette.”

Mitch turned on his heel and left Finn standing there, wondering what on earth was going on. His earlier happiness fled in a heartbeat. He stood frozen for a second before hotfooting it down the hall and finally catching up with Mitch as he exited the back door. The sound of the screen door slamming was loud in the quiet of the evening.

Finn pushed through the door, slightly pissed off that Mitch had left him without explanation. Mitch was leaning against the patio balustrade, the flare from his Zippo lighting up his face for a moment before it plunged back into darkness. But even in that brief moment, the grief was plain to see—the tremble in his hands where he cupped the flame, the tremor of the cigarette that hung from his lips, and the shine to his eyes.

As Finn neared, it was clear Mitch was close to tears and straining to maintain control. Although it had been a day from hell, Finn was surprised because Mitch was usually so calm and collected. He remained rigid when Finn wrapped him in his hold again, making no effort to return the hug, only turning his head to blow a stream of smoke toward the garden. Finn held tight, running his palms along Mitch’s back. Eventually the muscles under Finn’s fingers began to loosen, some of the tension evaporating with each drag of the cigarette. By the time it had burned down to the filter, Mitch was breathing normally and had placed a hand on Finn’s hip to hold him close.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need,” Finn whispered. Somewhat reluctantly he moved back and gave Mitch some space. Mitch ground the butt with the heel of his boot, and when he made a move to bend and retrieve it, Finn stopped him with a hand. “Leave it. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder, leaning on the railing and staring across the backyard into the bush beyond. The full moon gave the whole area a ghostly appearance, casting long shadows across the lawn. The croaking from frogs was a constant chorus, punctuated occasionally by the call from a tawny frogmouth—the ordinary night sounds in the area. Where the noise of the frogs usually annoyed Finn, who had become more used to the constant buzz of traffic in Melbourne, tonight the regularity was reassuring. Or maybe the reassurance came from the warmth generated by Mitch’s arm pressed against his own.

“We were close. Pete and me.” Mitch’s voice broke the silence between the two of them.

“Yeah?” Finn responded but kept his gaze on the garden, not on the man he hoped would open up to him. Mitch would speak in his own time. A minute ticked by.

Mitch cleared his throat. “We were together for a while.”

There was the usual flare of jealousy at the thought of Mitch with another man, but Finn knew it was ridiculous. He had no control over Mitch’s past and didn’t even harbor any real hope he had rights to Mitch in the future. However, at the same time, it meant so much that Mitch was sharing this piece of his life with him.

“I figured as much.” Finn kept his voice low.

“You did?”

“A couple of times…. I don’t know, a couple of things that were said, the looks that passed between the two of you, I guess. I don’t think anyone else would pick up on it, but knowing what I know about you both, it isn’t a real surprise.”

“What do you mean? Knowing what?” Mitch turned to face him.

Finn thought for a moment, unsure how to proceed. How much of Pete’s story was his to tell? But it sounded like Mitch knew a lot of it already. “When we met in Melbourne, Pete and I became friends. Well, not exactly friends, at first, but we started to get close. We had a number of things in common, and staying under the same roof for a couple of weeks forced us to talk. We discovered we had some similarities. Come on. Let’s sit down, and I’ll tell you about it.”

Finn took Mitch’s hand and led him into the living room. They sunk onto the shitty couch, Finn holding tight to Mitch’s hand, needing to keep the connection. Mitch’s hands were warm, and Finn toyed with his strong fingers as he began his tale. He gave Mitch the key highlights of his time with Pete in Melbourne, mainly the revelation they were both gay.

“So you were never together?” Mitch asked.

Was he jealous? Jealous of the idea that Finn and Pete had been more than friends, and if so, who was he jealous of? Me or Pete?

Finn shook his head. “No. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. Just friends. Although we have grown closer since then. I think it’s because he’s the only one who knows how I feel about Rocky.”

Mitch gave a wry smile. “Not anymore.”

“No, I guess not.” Finn squeezed Mitch’s hand. “I know Pete has his issues, but his heart’s in the right place. He’s trying to make amends for what he’s done wrong.”

The sadness in Mitch’s eyes was evident. “I know.”

Finn couldn’t help himself—he had to ask the question. As much as it would hurt, he had to know the answer. “Do you have regrets? Do you want to get back together with him?”

“What? No.” Mitch let go of his hand and sat up straight. His words were what Finn wanted to hear, but Mitch’s reaction wasn’t. He was pulling away, his body language closed off. Finn reached for him again, Mitch’s arm tense under Finn’s hand.

“It’s okay, Mitch. I know it can’t be easy to have someone who means a lot to you in the hospital. I’ll give you some space, but I want you to know I’m here for you if you need to talk. If you need anything.”

“It’s not like that. I care about him, but….”

“I know. It’s still hard. How about we both go to bed, huh? Some sleep will probably do us both good, and there’s nothing more we can do tonight. We can call the hospital first thing in the morning and head over there, if you like. But first sleep.”

“Thanks, Finn.”

“You’re welcome. Now come on.” Finn pushed Mitch toward the door. They retraced their steps toward the bedroom, and stopped outside the door. “You go wash up first.” Finn flashed back to Mitch standing motionless in the bedroom only a short time earlier. “You can sleep in the guest room, if you’d feel more comfortable there,” he reluctantly offered.

Mitch tilted his head. “You don’t want me in the guest room?”

“No. I want you to be wherever you need to be.”

“You want me to stay?”

Finn nodded. More than anything.