Morgan was warm. It had taken a while. It had taken more than a while. It had taken time, a wonderfully hot shower, dry hospital scrubs, heated blankets, several hours’ sleep, steamy tea, and two fantastic meals so far.

All that seemed like a lot to Morgan, and he had no idea how he was going to pay for any of it. He knew the hospital had a fund for crime victims, but he hadn’t been a crime victim here. He was living on someone’s kindness.

He wished he deserved it. All he could do was lie back in his hospital bed and let tears leak from his eyes.

He’d meant to stop Jamie from getting crushed by that branch, and he guessed he’d technically done so. Jamie’s limbs were sound, and his spine had been sound too. Too bad his skull had been crushed in.

Morgan had gone from sabotaging Jamie’s college career (unsuccessfully, really, and all in a bid for attention, but all the same, he’d done it), to crushing his dreams for a different life, to almost killing him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to do it. The only thing that mattered was the end result, which was Jamie in a coma, possibly irreversible.

He couldn’t even go to see Jamie to check on him. The nurse last night had said the Roscoe clan was on high alert for Jamie, and they’d been out looking for him. The hospital would be full of them by now. He couldn’t even show his face in the hallway. Why else would they give Morgan a private room? The last thing he could even consider was slipping into Jamie’s room. Lord, they’d shoot him.

All Morgan could do was lie in his bed and wish it had been him that had been hurt.

The door to his room opened, and Phil slipped in. Morgan wiped at his eyes, hoping Phil didn’t see, and tried to muster up a smile. Phil was a good guy. He was gentle, and he was kind. He’d provided the means for Jamie to reach out to Morgan, and that counted for a lot in Morgan’s book.

It was technically a violation of HIPAA to give out that information, but Morgan wasn’t about to complain. Granted, if Phil hadn’t given Jamie Morgan’s number, Jamie might be awake and healthy right now, so maybe Morgan shouldn’t be so enthusiastic about him.

“Hey.” Phil smiled easily at Morgan, his face bright. “Sorry it took me so long to get over to you. The storm kept most folks indoors, but the people who did come in really needed to be here, if you get my drift. How are you feeling? Looks like your temperature is back up to normal, finally.”

“I’m fine.” Morgan couldn’t meet Phil’s eye. “How’s Jamie?” Morgan couldn’t think about himself, especially not when all of this pampering left him feeling better than he had in years.

Phil huffed out a little laugh. “Jamie’s fine. He’s awake and he’s talking. And talking, and talking.

“His big brother had to restrain him to the bed. He wanted to come looking for you. Honestly, I’d be inclined to let him, but there’s the matter of the head injury. He’ll be just fine by tomorrow, but I don’t want him wandering around, just in case there’s a bleed or something. He doesn’t like hearing that, but he’s pretty worried about you.”

Phil closed the door behind him. “He told the family about you.”

Morgan did a double take. “No. No way." It was all well and good to make promises about helping him, but Morgan wasn’t the kind of guy Jamie should be bragging about, and he never had been.

“Yes way.” Phil chuckled. “And he was very quick to defend you, when they brought up some of the things you’d done in the name of the Patrick family empire.”

Morgan ducked his head in shame. “I’ll see myself out.”

Phil put a hand on Morgan’s. “Hey. I just said he was quick to defend you, right? Maybe he should have gone to law school, because he was pretty damn convincing.”

He smirked. “He didn’t use the L-word, but he was talking about business. So, I guess it would be weird if he did.

“But let me tell you, he was impassioned. And they were already a little predisposed to accept what he was saying, because of you saving Jamie’s life twice in one night and all. Gave him the shirt off your back, too.”

Phil winked, and then he sobered. “I’ve been going through your chart. We did some blood work to see if there was a reason beyond the hypothermia for you to pass out.”

“Your overall health is adequate. It looks like you’re malnourished, but I don’t know a lot of people who are malnourished who don’t already know that.” He eyed Morgan with a little bit of a speculative air. “Did you know you’re pregnant?”

Morgan’s world stopped cold. He couldn’t hear anything else — not the shuffle of people in the halls, not the heart rate monitor, not even his own breath. Nothing.

The room was spinning, and the only stable thing was Phil’s face. He tried to move his mouth, his jaw, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even draw breath to scream.

Phil grinned wryly. “I’m going to go ahead and take that as a no. I’m not surprised. It’s very early days. We found hCG when we were running the usual battery of tests. You wouldn’t be more than a couple of weeks in, at the very most.”

He paused. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that Jamie’s the other father.”

Morgan nodded. He still couldn’t think or speak. The only word in his head was pregnant.

“Okay. Well, he’s a good guy. Congratulations; I’m sure you’ll have a beautiful baby together.

“Anyway, the hypothermia wasn’t exactly good for the baby. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great, and of course you’re malnourished, and still a little bit shocky. The most important thing for you right now is to rest, okay? For the baby’s sake. Rest, and get the right nutrition.”

Morgan wanted to laugh, and to cry a little just because. Getting “home” would be a hike of more than two hours, assuming “home” still existed. Food involved shoplifting. There was a drug kingpin looking for his blood. His baby didn’t have a chance.

“Don’t tell Jamie,” he blurted. “Please.” It would kill Jamie to know he was pregnant, once Collins caught up to him.

Phil tilted his head to the side. “I thought you and he were really hitting it off — that things were going well between the two of you.”

“They were,” Morgan said. “They are. I just — I need to process this, before I tell him. You know?”

Phil gave him a measuring look, and then he nodded. “Okay. Well, I’ll keep it under wraps. I kind of have to.”

He shrugged. “I’ll help my cousin get in touch with someone he cares about, but this is serious. But Morgan, Jamie does care for you.”

“I know.” Morgan couldn’t speak above a whisper. “I care for him, too. More than I ever thought possible. But there are other forces at work…”

He swallowed. Phil was his doctor, not his priest or his therapist. “I love him. I do. And I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“If you need help, Morgan, we can help you. But for now, just rest. I know this is a shock for you.” Phil patted Morgan’s hand and left the room.

Morgan covered his face with the pillow and screamed. He couldn’t understand why this was happening. Okay, he understood how the pregnancy had happened. They hadn’t used a condom either time, and pregnancy happened when people didn’t use condoms.

Jamie hadn’t tried, and Morgan hadn’t asked him to. Frankly, it had felt too good to go bare with Jamie. Even with this disastrous result, he had to confess he probably wouldn’t have changed a thing.

But why did he have to catch pregnant now? Morgan still had no home. He couldn’t afford nutritious food to give his baby the best possible start in life.

He couldn’t afford food at all, really. He stole was enough for one small meal a day. And it was all going to be moot, once Collins’ people caught up to him.

The door opened. For a second, Morgan hoped it was Jamie, escaped from the clutches of his family and the watchful eye of medical staff to come and declare his love.

It was a selfish wish on Morgan’s part, and he knew it. Morgan should stay far, far away from Jamie, so Jamie didn’t get caught up in the never-ending disaster train that followed Morgan around.

He didn’t need Jamie to come and make some ridiculous, poetic declaration. Jamie had made his own declaration, in his own way, when he’d listened to Morgan without judgement and shared his own story. He’d shown his love when he’d sought to pleasure Morgan, with no intention of seeking out his own release.

It was far too late now for Morgan to return the favor. Titus, the slightly-built lackey to Collins, was walking into his room with a bulky man in a suit at his back.

“Hey there, Morgan,” he greeted. His voice was mild but cheerful. He might have been greeting him at the office, on a normal work day. Morgan supposed this was a normal work day, for Titus. “Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a jam here.”

Morgan glanced around. Maybe the hospital would play up Titus’ sympathy? “Yeah. A storm like last night isn’t exactly the best time to be stuck out on the side of a mountain in an abandoned house with no maintenance.”

“Yeah, probably not.” Titus leaned against the wall across from Morgan’s bed, hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m willing to bet that sucked. Not sure it was really worth hot-footing it out of there, though. I mean, it landed you in here, right?”

Morgan froze. How could they know he’d fled the house? Well, obviously, he wasn’t there now. He’d obviously wound up in the hospital. He needed to keep them away from Jamie. “It wasn’t necessarily a choice. I mean, staying wasn’t an option, if you get what I mean.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. You don’t go out in the open in a lightning storm unless your shelter’s about to pop open, I guess.

“So, here’s the thing. You don’t seem to have any personal property on you. I have to ask you, Morgan, do you have Captain Collins’ money hidden somewhere in those scrubs, or buried on the side of that mountain?”

Morgan might have tried to lie, but his heart monitor would have given him away. The stupid thing wasn’t tracking anything useful, and it was a hundred percent in his way.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t have it. I went from making an agreement with you — which I made — to getting stuck inside during the storm of the century. There was no way for me to get a dime.”

Titus acknowledged this with a nod and a lift of his eyebrows. “I hear you, I hear you. There’s only one small problem with that.”

“What’s that?” Morgan swallowed hard and tried to ignore the way his heart monitor sped up.

“The Captain doesn’t care. I tried to push him off for a while, and you know, he wasn’t impressed. He’s not the kind of guy that likes it when he feels he’s being stolen from, Morgan. He wants his money.”

Titus snapped his fingers and stood up straighter. “I know. You could go and ask your rich friend for a loan? With everything you’ve been doing for him, he pretty much owes you anyway.”

The room darkened for a second, but Morgan pushed the threatened fainting spell away through sheer force of will. He refused to be the kind of guy who swooned, even if he’d already passed out once in the past twenty-four hours.

“How do you even know about him?” he asked through gritted teeth. He couldn’t decide if he was angry that Titus would try to reduce things between him and Jamie to a transaction, or terrified that Titus had been watching. Or — this was the worst part — that Titus could have helped at any time, and hadn’t.

“Did you think we wouldn’t keep tabs on someone who owed us money? Especially someone connected to Roman Patrick? The dude’s middle name is double-cross.” Titus laughed. “Come on. Go find your boyfriend and get paid. It’ll all be fine.”

“He’s got nothing to do with this.” Morgan had nothing to bargain with, and nothing to offer. Any other day — hell, yesterday — he’d have just handed himself over and gotten it over with. He had nowhere to go, no prospects for getting the money anyway. Collins had been his last, desperate hope.

That was before he found out there was a baby growing inside of him, Jamie’s baby, and Morgan had to keep it safe. That little bundle of cells deep inside of him was more important than air. “I don’t have the money, but I’ll get it by the end of the day.”

Titus shook his head. He looked genuinely regretful; that was what made the whole situation most horrific to Morgan. “Unfortunately, pal, I can’t get the Captain to give you more time. He was pissed enough that I gave you time in the first place. He was pretty clear. Either I brought him a pile of cash, or I brought him a pile of parts.”

The big, looming fellow, who’d been silent until now, reached into his jacket and produced a set of bolt cutters. “No hard feelings,” Titus told him with a little smile. “It’s just, we have to make an example, you know? Now we have to start paying your debt back, one finger at a time.”

The door slammed open, and a booming and familiar voice firmly declared, “You will do no such thing.”

Morgan felt like he might pass out again. Titus and his companion craned their heads to see who the intruder was. They’d have known better than to think anyone in a Roscoe hospital would give even half a crap about Morgan Patrick.

None of them would have expected to see who they saw, least of all Morgan himself. Roman Patrick stood in the doorway. He wore, as always, a dark wool suit with a white shirt and a red tie. His hair had gotten a little grayer, but he didn’t look any less intimidating than he had the last time Morgan had seen him.

Morgan’s breath seized in his chest, and the heart rate monitor flipped into “out of control” territory. Morgan ripped the monitor off. His father hated background noise almost as much has he hated gay people.

Roman curled his lip at Titus and his friend. “What in God’s name do you think this is?” he roared. “You’re in a damned hospital, not a Tarantino movie. Get your small-time gangster asses out of here before I call security.”

Something dangerous blazed up in Titus’ eyes, but he held his hands up and gave a cocky little smile. “Hey, no harm no foul, grandpa. We’re just playing. Me and Morgan here, we’re old friends.”

He circled around Roman and headed for the door, his goon close behind him. He gave Morgan a look that warned him his time could be counted in hours, not days, and then sweetly wished him a speedy recovery.

For half a second, Morgan thought his father was there to reconcile. They’d been separated for two long years, and Morgan was his only son. Surely Roman had seen the error of his ways by now.

They would be reunited, and Morgan could return to his old life. He’d have a home, a car, a job. He could build a life with Jamie not as a grateful client, but as an equal.

Then Roman turned around. His look of disgust hadn’t changed. “It’s bad enough,” he said, pulling an unlit cigar out of his pocket and stuffing it into the corner of his mouth, “that you had to be a filthy, dirty queer. But I had to hear about you being in the hospital from that damned Lincoln Roscoe to boot.”

Morgan swallowed hard. He’d wondered what had brought Roman to his rescue. “I saved Jamie Roscoe’s life,” he tried. “That’s the only reason he knew.”

“Even worse!” Roman shouted. Morgan was knocked backwards with the force of his father’s hate. “Not only are you a queer, but you’re in bed with the enemy! I should have had a vasectomy before you were even born!”

He threw Morgan’s tray table through the doorway and into the hallway. “I cannot believe the depths of your incompetence, your intemperance, and your filth. You would lower yourself to rut with trash like Jamie Roscoe.”

“You had a perfect opportunity to hit them where it hurts and leave the little shit to die, but no — you had to help the little fuck. And — and! I come into your room in this hospital, since you clearly can’t take care of yourself, only to find you’ve gotten yourself into debt with some lowlife thugs! Why did I spend so much money on your education if you’re just going to get involved with trash?”

“Because after spending all that money on my education, you turned around and made sure I couldn’t even get a job as a waiter!” Morgan shot back. What did he care who heard him anymore? “What the hell did you expect me to do, magic money out of thin air?”

“I don’t care what it is you do, Morgan. I only came here to make absolutely, and finally, sure you understand you don’t get to call on this family. You have nothing to do with us.

“If I could somehow legally force you to change your last name from Patrick to literally anything else in the world, I would do it. You are not a Patrick. You’re nameless trash with no family.

“The next time you manage to land yourself in the hospital, you can die quietly without troubling anyone and without charging anything to anyone’s bank account. You’re not worth a damn to anyone. You understand me?”

Morgan fought back tears. His father’s hatred wasn’t new to him. He hadn’t expected his father to come to his rescue just now, and he would never have thought to tell Roman he was in the hospital.

Now that his father was here, though, Morgan wanted a reconciliation so bad it hurt. He’d wanted Roman’s approval for as long as he could remember. Old habits died hard, even habits of thought.

“I’m pregnant,” he said, as Roman stormed back toward the door. It was a last-ditch effort, something he hadn’t even fully acknowledged to himself. “This is your only chance to be a grandfather.”

Roman’s answering sneer could have made the history books. “Whatever parasite is growing inside of you is your own damn fault, and your own problem. That thing is unnatural. It has nothing to do with me. Don’t come crawling to me looking for money for it, either.” He stomped out the door and slammed it shut.

Morgan turned his head away, but he couldn’t cry. He didn’t have time.