AWAKENINGS

OH GOD.

Aaron kept his eyes closed, but he recognized the sound, the smell, the discomfort.

He was in the hospital.

He’d gotten himself shot.

He remembered being in recovery, the kids visiting, the few quiet moments of just knowing Larx had fallen asleep with his head on Aaron’s mattress.

That had been nice. Just having him there, no angry words, no recrimination. Not that Larx had ever done that—or Caroline, his late wife, either.

But there was the fear of it—the fear of knowing that he’d let somebody down.

Aaron couldn’t remember much about the visit with Larx, but he knew Larx saying “I’m not okay” didn’t equal them being not okay. Good.

Aaron thirsted, suddenly, for a permanence to them. Yes, they were living together—they could live together happily for the rest of their lives, and nobody would blink.

But he could easily move into his old house, just a few miles away on the forestry road—he and Larx passed it almost every day when they went running. One day he and Larx could come to an impasse, and Aaron would simply have to leave, heartbroken, and not be a part of his life anymore.

The thought made him gasp aloud from pain.

“Oh, hey!” The chirp of the cheery nurse told him that shift change had happened and it was probably after six. “You look like you’re in serious need of some morphine.”

“I wouldn’t argue that,” he mumbled after doing a quick internal assessment. Yes, things hurt. Yes, he was going to have to put a cap on that if he was supposed to think. “This isn’t recovery.”

“Nope—this is ICU, and you’re here for another forty-eight hours before you get shifted to Critical Care. But you know what the bennies are here, right?”

Aaron saw the cots already made up. “Sleepover visitors.”

“Yeah, but no kinky stuff. Your boyfriend looks like a screamer.” The nurse—in her sixties and old enough to be his mother—gave him a bawdy wink, and he had to chuckle. His mother never would have told a joke like that, and he wondered loopily if this woman would adopt him.

“He’s just naturally loud,” Aaron told her, trying to be stolid and loyal. Truth was, if they were in a house, alone, with no kids in sight, sound, or phone distance, Aaron was the loud one—but it had taken them a couple of tries to figure out how much louder. Larx had accused him of trying to summon moose by the herd.

“Not tonight he’s not,” the nurse said gently. “He took the kids to go get ice cream for breakfast—one look at the roads, and I don’t think they’re going anywhere until the plows get here.”

Aaron puffed softly. “Oh God. The girl. In the house. I gotta talk to Sheriff Mills….”

His eyes struggled to open, and he tried hard to stick to that one thought. They’d been working on a faulty assumption—that Candace Furman’s stepfather had sexually assaulted her. When Aaron had knocked on the Benitezes’ door, he’d gone in expecting her stepfather to be the one in the room.

That hadn’t been the case, but Eamon had come in, things had escalated, and boom! Aaron’s world had exploded, and the last thing he remembered was the picture on the wall falling on his head.

And then Larx talking to him, coolly assessing his wounds, and trying so hard not to lose his shit. God, Aaron was proud of him. When Larx had been hurt, Aaron hadn’t been nearly that capable. But then, Larx’s practicality let him teach high school students without completely losing his mind. Aaron had firmly believed that even before he’d seen Larx running without his shirt and been smitten.

He was falling asleep again, but he managed to say the one thing that could get them through this without heartbreak. “Larx. Gotta talk to Larx.”

NATURAL LIGHT was coming through the small prison window above his bed, and he had a grim and uncharitable thought about whoever designed this hospital. If he was actually going to die of his wounds here, he’d love to have something to look at besides the plain white wall with the exhausted man slumped against it.

His exhausted man.

Oh Lord, he hated to wake him up for this.

“Larx?” he whispered, and Larx’s body popped right up, his eyes bright and alert, proving that he’d only been dozing. If he’d been getting real sleep, he would have stood up, plowed into a wall, and said something truly amusing and incoherent.

Dimly, Aaron wished Larx had been truly asleep. He loved those mornings when there was nothing to do but wake up and run his hands over Larx’s chest. Besides the fact that it was a really nice chest, Larx made delicious sounds, decadent humming ones in the back of his throat, half-muffled chuckles, little gasps. Even if they didn’t end up having morning sex—and given how early the kids got up, the answer was usually no—just having him there, in Aaron’s arms, was all the heaven Aaron thought people ever got.

“Whassup?” Larx mumbled, walking across the room to the chair by Aaron’s bed. “You need drugs?”

Aaron assessed again. “No,” he said soberly. “Not for a little while. I gotta stay awake. Eamon… is Eamon coming?”

Larx grunted and checked his phone. “Yeah. He says it’ll take two hours for the plows to get through, and then we’ll have a big meeting.”

Aaron grunted. Who knew how conscious he’d be then. “Wasn’t her stepdad,” he slurred. “Killed stepbrother. Stepdad is still out there… out there with gun.”

Larx made a sound like he’d been hit, and Aaron missed the memories of those other good sounds. “Oh no. She’s still out there, Aaron. One of the things we were going to do when Eamon got here was quiz Yoshi about where she might be going. But wherever it is, it’s got to be someplace that’ll give her shelter and hopefully food.”

Aaron groaned. “Oh God, Larx. We’ve got to get her.”

Larx’s hand on his was gentle. “We’ll get her,” he promised. “We will. But you’re sitting this one out, Chief. This ain’t TV where you get shot in one frame and do a running tackle in the next.”

Aaron’s entire body ached under the softening effect of the morphine. “Believe it or not, I know that,” he muttered.

Larx let out a faint bit of laughter and stroked his hair back from his brow. “Not warm,” he said, voice relieved. “We may be able to get you out of here before spring.”

“What’s your house like in the spring?” Aaron asked wistfully. Larx had a garden—Aaron remembered passing by the front and seeing flowers in flowerbeds and ragged stone borders up the walkways and in front of the house.

“Mud everywhere,” Larx laughed.

“Flowers.”

“Mm… yeah. We’ve got rose bushes, and bulbs. There should be buttercups and pinks and crocuses when it gets warmer.”

Aaron closed his eyes, seeing that yard again as it had been in other springs. “Morning glories. You have morning glories growing over the carport.”

“Some years,” Larx agreed. “Do you want me to plant some this year? I think I pulled off all the vines in the fall so the carport wouldn’t rot.”

Aaron nodded. “Just like flowers. Stupid. Grown man.”

Larx laughed a little. “Grown men need pretty too. And kind.”

And you. “How’re the kids?” He didn’t want to get maudlin. He was doped up and in pain. When he said romantic things to Larx, he wanted to be in full control, so Larx knew he meant them and they were important.

“Kirby is hurting,” Larx said softly. “He’s… he was able to deal before this by superstition. Someone told him it would all be okay when he was little, and he believed them. He had that ripped away—can’t lie, Deputy, it was rough.”

Aaron lifted his hand—was hard, everything felt like lead—and he cupped Larx’s cheek. Larx’s usually bright brown eyes were swollen small with lack of sleep and—he could see it now—with tears.

“Rough night,” Aaron pronounced. “You need some sleep.”

Larx nodded, but he didn’t get up to go lie down.

“Put your head down here, like before,” Aaron begged. “Eamon will be here soon enough.”

Larx smiled tiredly. “Word.” And then he did. Total surrender, like he did sometimes, just did what Aaron asked, stopped thinking, stopped trying to always participate, stopped working to make people happy and the world a better place.

Just stopped.

Rested his head on Aaron’s bed. Let Aaron do the comforting, stroking his hair softly before they both fell back asleep.

Aaron dreamed of spring, of helping Larx dig up his garden, flowers in the front and veggies in the back. Or warm red earth under the pine trees, and the smell of roses and buttercups and pinks.

Of life.

THE MORNING stillness eased into the sort of hushed activity of a beginning day in the hospital. Aaron heard the kids first, talking about going to get food, and heard Kirby saying something about ice cream at five in the morning.

“That’s weird,” Christi mumbled. “Livvy said Dad took her for ice cream at four.”

Aaron grimaced, eyes still closed, and flexed his fingers to make sure Larx was still there. He was about to tell them to fetch some bacon and eggs for him, since he’d been running on sugar in the wee hours of the morning, but a familiar clearing of the throat stopped him.

“I’d say that means you should fetch your father some protein and some caffeine, both at the same time, don’t you think?”

“Eamon,” Aaron breathed, smiling as he opened his eyes. His lungs still hurt. Talking still hurt—but oh, it was good to see his boss again.

“Deputy.” Mindful of Larx, still sleeping at Aaron’s side, Eamon moved to his other side and pulled up a seat.

“Not sure who had the rougher night,” Eamon said softly. “Yours was over when you got shot—he still had shit to do.”

Aaron nodded. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Getting the guy before he could take the head shot.” Aaron remembered that much, sprawled on the floor, trying to breathe. He remembered the gun aimed at his head, his astonishment when he heard the shot and realized the intense, twentysomething young man who’d shot him had gone down.

Eamon shrugged like he hadn’t saved Aaron’s life. “Well, we all have our uses.”

At his side Larx yawned and swallowed, then sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “Ezomo?”

Aaron couldn’t chuckle, not really, but this was how Larx was supposed to wake up: completely disoriented and not even a tiny bit coherent.

Eamon’s tired chuckle served double duty, and Larx scowled at him while checking his mouth for drool. “Nungh. Timeizit?”

“Almost nine,” Eamon said. “You got to sleep in!”

Larx squinted at him. “You sleep at all?”

Eamon shook his gray head with a bit of weariness. “Not so much. In fact, I may steal one of those cots for an hour before we get a move on, if that’s okay.”

Larx nodded and squeezed Aaron’s hand. “I may send the kids home when Womb… uh, Olivia’s, uh, boyfriend gets released.”

“He’s okay?” Aaron mouthed.

Larx shrugged. “Still haven’t met him—I’ll need to make the rounds. But….” He frowned like he was thinking and stared at Eamon. “Okay. Plan. I talk to Livvy and Wombat Willie—”

Eamon burst out laughing.

“Shit. I will kill Christiana for that. That kid doesn’t have a chance. But if they’re ready to go, I’ll send the kids all home in the minivan, and I’ll go with Eamon to help find Candace. That’s what you were going to ask, right?”

Eamon yawned and nodded. “Yeah—Larx, we’re going to need you to start asking around the school. We think she had a plan, but her mother’s hostile, her little sister’s not allowed to talk, and her stepfather….” Eamon shook his head. “He’s wandering around the backwoods with a gun, and that is a bad goddamned thing.”

Larx and Aaron met eyes. Yes, all three of them had seen the damage brought on by someone not in their right mind holding their gun like a savior. Larx hadn’t ended up in the hospital—but he could have just as easily ended up in the morgue.

“Let me square my kids away,” Larx said decidedly, “and I’ll start making calls.” He grimaced at Aaron. “I always thought… you know… me and you would play chess or something when this happened.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Words with Friends,” he breathed.

Larx shot him a telling look, and Aaron managed a smile.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Go be a grown-up.”

Larx shook his head, an unfamiliar expression tightening his jaw. He swallowed another yawn before kissing Aaron’s cheek while avoiding the cannula and squeezing his hand.

“I’m going to go wrangle idiot children and let Eamon get some sleep. You rest up, Deputy. By the time we get you home—if it’s still standing, ’cause remember, Yoshi’s been there all night!—you’re going to think the hospital’s a dream vacation.”

Larx left, and Aaron watched him go. He hated feeling helpless, hated that Larx was leaving—but God. He really loved that man.

Eamon cleared his throat. “All done making gooey eyes at your boy’s ass?”

Aaron smiled impishly. Painkillers, pain, exhaustion—sort of took the formality out of dealing with your boss.

“Yup.”

“Look, I’m going to tell you a little secret about situations like this. I’m tired, I’m cranky, and like Larx, I’m worried sick, so you’d better listen to me. Are you listening?”

Aaron nodded dutifully. His own father had been a pale, stern man with high expectations and low communications. Eamon looked nothing like Herbert George, but Aaron really did think of the guy like a father.

“Listening,” he mouthed.

“Good. So, about ten years before you came to Colton, I got shot. I was in surgery for four hours and in the hospital for two weeks, and my wife was an angel of light the whole time.”

Aww. That was lovely. Georgina Mills—loveliest woman on the planet.

“And I thought, ‘Geez, I sure am blessed to have a partner in my life who respects my choice to go out and get my ass blasted to kingdom come all in the name of the greater good, and my life is truly a thing of wonder.’”

Oh, Aaron loved this story. He nodded and smiled, thinking how nice it was that he had a partner like that too!

“And then, about two weeks after I got home, as I was stumbling through the house and trying to remember my ass from a hole in the ground, that woman tried to kill me with a baking pan and asked for a divorce.”

Aaron blinked.

“Yeah, not what you expected to hear, is it?”

No, no it wasn’t.

“You promised him a happy ever after and then walked out of the car and got shot—and more than that, you left him ass-deep in kids he had to tell. And whatever is going on with Olivia and that kid you keep calling Wombat Willie is making a tic jump out in his jaw. And you left him in the middle of this, you son of a bitch, and not only that, he’s got to worry about your sorry ass too. Now I was lucky. She hit me with the baking pan, and that opened up the stitches and she saw the blood and started to cry and my ass was forgiven. But I’m telling you right now—it’s coming. I’d tell you to be ready for it, but I got no idea when he’ll blow, and I’d hazard that you don’t either. He’ll be all good one minute and freaking out the next. So be ready. Be ready to forgive. Because you almost did the worst thing you could do to that man, and you’re going to have to have that conversation more than once.”

Aaron gaped at him. “But… but we….”

“You think you had it. You think you’ve had that conversation.” Eamon sighed and grunted, most of his weight resting on his knees from his elbows at this point. “Whatever you think you’ve had, you haven’t had it for real until you get home and you don’t look like shit. Once you look healthy, he’ll remember you almost fucking left him. So be ready, okay? Figure out what you’re going to say to keep that boy in your life.”

Aaron yawned. “Gonna say… love him.”

Eamon shrugged. “Georgina needed a better package than that.” And then it was his turn to yawn. “I’m going to nap. You concentrate on healing so you’re ready when he turns around with a garden hoe and takes after your weenie-wounded ass like all the hounds of hell.”

And with those words of reassurance, Eamon went to the cot in the corner of the room, took off his boots, and settled in like the kids had, pulling the thin blanket over his shoulders and dropping off to sleep like the old soldier he was.

Aaron watched him for a moment before closing his eyes again himself. Well, if Eamon was right and Larx’s real meltdown would be saved for when Aaron’s lung wasn’t threatening to collapse, it was better to rest up now. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do—like go out with Larx and help find a girl lost in the snow.