Chapter One
It was chaos. The sounds, the smells. A dozen voices calling, the beep of machines, the wail of alarms. The scent of sweat overlaid with disinfectant. There was a time when Matt had loved this. Bringing order to that chaos, using his eyes, his ears, his hands, to judge a situation and make a call.
Now the tumultuous emergency department made him uneasy, wary. Not of it, but of himself, his reactions, his mindset. He still enjoyed his work, he just didn’t love it anymore.
Jesse, the department manager, was standing in the center of the room, pivoting slowly. They had incoming trauma patients from a car accident and space was now at a premium.
“Dave, clear four. Ole, move your patient back out to the waiting area. Jan, your patient goes to four. Let’s keep things moving people.”
Matt was glad he wasn’t covering trauma that week. They’d had a litany of car accidents and falls with the bad weather, not to mention a gang war getting out of hand sending them a handful of gunshot and stab wound victims. Instead, he was dealing with the sick and the minor injuries. His job was to evaluate and treat as fast as possible, to clear their ever-growing board.
“Okay, Mr. Hagan, your tests are back and everything looks good. I think we can chalk the dizziness up to that new blood pressure medication you’ve started. We’ll decrease the dose and get your primary care doctor to monitor your blood pressure. For the next few days, take care to sit and stand slowly, and don’t drive until the dizziness is gone.”
He sent Mr. Hagan off with a letter for his doctor and an extra dose of reassurance.
Turning back towards the central station to grab the next chart, he walked straight into someone. The shock of it sent a bolt of anxiety through him and he jumped back but reached out automatically to steady the person he’d knocked into. The person who was, he realized belatedly, sneaking out from the adjacent cubicle through Mr. Hagan’s.
“I’m sorry, didn’t see you there,” he said, adding, “people don’t normally travel through—”
He was met by the bluest eyes he had ever seen and trailed off.
“Sorry,” the man replied, his eyes darting left and right, his breaths coming in shallow pants.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Matt asked, conscious that he still had his hands on the blue-eyed man’s shoulders. He should probably stop touching him.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Mr. Benson?” His colleague Lacie stuck her head around the curtain, prompting Matt to drop his hands to his sides. “I’m Doctor Gates. Why don’t we get you back to your cubicle and I’ll examine you?
Mr. Benson glanced at Lacie then back at Matt.
“I really think I’m okay. I might just go.”
“Nurse Taylor tells me you might have a broken rib or two. That can be very painful, not to mention have some nasty complications. I promise I’ll have you in and out as quickly as possible. And if it’s money you’re worried about, don’t. You're covered under the shelter’s insurance.”
Shelter? Mr. Benson didn’t look like their typical homeless person. But then plenty of people fell on hard times, particularly in the past few years.
With a sigh but no words, Benson turned and followed Lacie. As he left the cubicle, he glanced back at Matt, holding his gaze for a moment, and Matt couldn’t move. Then he was gone and Jesse was there.
“Chop, chop, Matt. The list is growing longer by the second.”
Grabbing the next chart, he felt oddly thankful that Mr. Benson wasn’t his patient.
Later, as he sat down for coffee and a quick bite to eat with Lacie and Taylor, he resisted the urge to ask about Benson. He wasn’t his patient, so he’d been doing it purely out of nosiness and not out of genuine medical interest. Broken ribs he’d seen a hundred times before. No, he was content to sit quietly and top up his caffeine reserves before the next battle.
But Lacie and Taylor wanted to talk about nothing else.
“Do you think he was a model?” Taylor asked.
“No, he said he worked in a shop.”
“What kind of shop? I’d say he’d really sell the clothes in one of those upmarket places.”
“He wasn’t the talkative sort. Gorgeous eyes though. What did you think, Matt?”
“Hmm?” He’d been doing his best to pretend he wasn’t listening, his eyes on the magazine in his hand.
“My patient, the one you caught making the great escape from his cubicle.”
“What about him?”
“What did you think?”
“He certainly wanted to be anywhere but here.”
“Yeah, but… oh, you’re no fun.”
Matt hid a smile behind his coffee cup.
He tried his hardest to forget about blue-eyes, but his mind seemed to have other ideas. Every time he was bored, when he had nothing to occupy his thoughts, he’d flash on an image of him, gorgeous cheek bones, dark brown hair, and those eyes. When a week had passed, and the thoughts hadn’t lessened in intensity, he started to wonder if it was a sign he should start dating again. It had been almost two years since Jon’s death. Was it time he moved on?
But he couldn’t quite bring himself to engage in the modern dating world. No app, no website, no speed dating event held any appeal to him. Maybe he was just being difficult, a sort of self-sabotage. He discussed it with his therapist, and she advised him to dip his toes in the water.
“Just take it slow, day by day. Don’t rush into anything and be prepared to get overwhelmed pretty quickly.”
And yet, he found himself doing nothing except pondering the mystery man with the blue eyes.
He’d heard good things about a Malay restaurant a half-hour walk from his apartment, so he decided to brave the elements one evening after a long shift, donning a coat, hat, and scarf. The food was every bit as delicious as they’d promised and he was only sorry they didn’t do takeout.
The streets were busy as he began his walk home though they hadn’t yet reached the peak of Holiday shopping. The sound of a car horn had him whipping his head around, body and eyes alert for danger, but he got past it quickly, turning to walk on, only to smack straight into another person.
He grabbed hold of them as they pitched sideways, surprised when they grabbed him back. Familiar blue eyes, muddled with fear, stared at him.
“Help me,” Benson whispered, glancing back over his shoulder. “They’re coming.”
Matt looked up, staring into the distance, and caught sight of three men rounding the corner, craning their necks as they searched through the crowd. Matt, acting on well-honed instinct, tugged the stranger over to the bus shelter, pulling off his own coat to wrap around him and setting his own hat on the Benson’s head.
The men were pushing past people on the street, searching for him. As they got closer, Matt pulled the man into an embrace hiding his face against his neck. He could feel Benson’s warm breath against his skin as both of them held very still. The men walked straight past, their eyes glossing over the couple.
Matt waited until they had disappeared from view before pulling back.
“Are you okay?”
Benson was shaking, fine trembles rippling through him, and Matt wasn’t sure whether they were from fear or cold, given he wore nothing but jeans and a T-shirt.
“Yeah. Thank you. Really. I should get out of here before they come back.”
“If they’re giving you hassle, maybe you should call the police? There’s three of them and one of you.”
Benson shook his head, shivering harder. “I tried already. That would only make things worse now.”
He started to pull Matt’s coat from around his shoulders. Matt caught him before he could, tugging the heavy material back in place.
“Do you have somewhere safe to go tonight?” he asked, conscious of how late it was, and how cold.
Benson glanced over at a clock in a shop window and his shoulders sagged. “I won’t get back to the shelter before curfew. There’s a church I can sleep in, they leave it open sometimes when the weather’s bad. It’s better than being outside.”
Matt watched him for a moment, debating with himself. He was about to make a monumentally stupid decision and he knew it.
“You can stay with me for tonight. It’s too cold to be out on the street, especially when you’ve got three pairs of eyes out looking for you.” He glanced meaningfully in the direction the three men had gone.
A range of emotions crossed Benson’s face, so quick Matt couldn’t pick them out.
“Thanks, if it’s not too much trouble,” he said, trying to shrug off Matt’s coat again.
“You keep that for now. You need it more than I do,” Matt said, once more taking in the t-shirt the man wore that left his arms bare. In contrast, he had on a vest, T-shirt, and a sweater, plus a little more meat on his bones than Benson. “Come on, this way.”
Benson followed, falling into step beside him, tugging Matt’s coat tighter around his slight frame as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. “Where do you live?”
“Near Grundy Bridge. It’s a bit of a walk.”
“That’s okay. I like walking.”
“I’m Matt, by the way.”
That earned him a sideways glance, Benson chewing on his lip. “I’m Jasper.”
Finally, a name for the mysterious blue-eyed would-be escape artist.
Jasper wasn’t sure what to make of the doctor. He recognized him as soon as he’d set eyes on him, his mouth pleading for help before his brain had caught up.
And then he’d been wrapped in a warm coat, a warm hat, and a warm pair of arms, a fleeting sensation of safety in his uncertain world.
Now, he was traipsing after Matt to his place. He wasn’t sure what awaited him there. People didn’t usually take guys like him in out of the goodness of their hearts. They wanted something. But, between the cold and Phillipe’s guys chasing him, a night on the streets looked like a very hairy prospect. He’d find out what Matt expected and, if it was too much, he’d bail. He was good at that.
Matt’s apartment was up one floor and they took the stairs.
“Not big on elevators,” Matt said and there was something significant in how he said it that was lost on Jasper.
And then they were in. Matt switched on the lights and Jasper looked around, taking it all in. It was cozy if a little on the messy side. He caught Matt watching him and wondered if he thought Jasper was casing the place. It wouldn’t be the first time that assumption was made, or the last.
Matt held out a hand and Jasper blinked at it before realizing what he wanted, slipping off his coat and hat and handing them over.
“Thanks,” he said as Matt hung them up.
“So.” Matt turned back to him and Jasper’s mouth went dry. There was no easy way to ask what Matt’s expectations of the night were. It wasn’t like it would be a hardship. Matt was gorgeous, just his type. Not to mention he had the doctor thing and the knight in shining armor coming to his rescue thing, too.
“How about some food?” Matt offered, walking to his fridge, and pulling it open.
“I can’t pay you,” Jasper blurted out. Matt turned back to him, eyebrows raised. “But if there’s something you want?”
He dropped his gaze, very deliberately running a hand down his chest to his waist as he glanced up at Matt through his eyelashes.
Matt turned back to the fridge, closing it firmly, his shoulders tensed.
Jasper wondered if he’d made a mistake, been too direct? Maybe Matt didn’t like to break the fantasy?
When Matt turned around, he wouldn’t look Jasper in the eyes. “I’ll make up the sofa bed for you. There’s food in the fridge, help yourself.”
He walked past Jasper heading towards the other doors. As he came level with him, he paused.
“How old you are?”
“Twenty-two,” Jasper replied.
“Are you sure?” It was an odd question, but he answered it readily.
“Pretty sure, I saw it on my birth cert that I got before I moved here. My mom wasn’t too good at birthdays.”
“Okay,” Matt said. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t harboring a runaway juvenile. That can get a person into a lot of trouble.”
“I didn’t mean that, what I said before. I don’t usually do that kind of thing, almost never. It’s just, I like to know where I stand.”
Matt seemed to consider that for a moment before he spoke again.
“A warm, safe bed for the night and food if you want it. No catch,” he said, making eye contact with Jasper finally, holding his gaze until Jasper responded.
Jasper nodded, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, grateful for the straight words.