soul.
“Revenge.”
The word was so quiet, for a minute the labored sound of Brian’s breathing silenced it.
Lyndie’s arm went around Tate’s shoulder, and she pulled his bald, Mohawked head down for a kiss. “I didn’t hear you, baby. Tell me again?”
“Revenge,” he said again, louder this time.
“Revenge?” But Lyndie sounded speculative—not surprised. “Somebody getting back at Brian?” she asked carefully, and Tate lost the same battle Brian had won, and his face crumpled like cellophane, and suddenly he was sobbing into Lyndie’s arms.
“Oh God… did everybody know but me?”
Sometime as he was losing it, crying as he hadn’t cried since the same night Brian had, the police officers tried to come in. He never saw the look sweet, fragile-seeming Aunt Lyndie cast over his shoulder to make them go away, but he had the feeling that it was that sort of danger in Brian that had brought them to this pass in the winter as it was.
Excuse Me While I Lose Something
“So, Talker , you were in your date’s home, and what happened next?”
Tate shrugged. “We were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and, you know, suddenly Trev’s all hands. And it’s not like I can blame him, right?”
“I can,” Brian said darkly, and Talker flushed.
“I told him, you know? Not in so many words, but I tried really hard to make it clear that I was looking for….” Talker blushed. “It. Sex. A good time. Whatever.”
“Love,” Brian muttered. “Be honest, dammit.”
Talker was surprised into looking at him, and his lips pulled up into a smile that he’d always hated because his teeth were crooked and his canines were prominent and his teeth were crowded, and no, foster kids didn’t always get taken to the dentist when their wisdom teeth grew in. “Well, if I was, I was looking in the wrong place for it, wasn’t I?”
Aunt Lyndie’s presence was the right place for love, just like Brian’s was.
Talker calmed down after a while. The dreaded cops had backed off, and were waiting outside of Brian’s room with dark glances and a way of making anyone who tried to visit the room feel unwelcome—even the nurse.
The nurse didn’t “bustle”—in fact, a few years older than Lyndie, with lovely gray eyes in tanned skin, she seemed to radiate a sort of competent serenity, and Talker was grateful.
“With all of that,” she said, after “hmmming” over the pink fluid coming from Brian’s catheter at the foot of the bed, “you’d think this guy was the winner of the fight and not the loser.”
Tate bit his tongue to keep from blurting out, “Yeah, but he won the first one.” Instead, he focused on what she was doing with the catheter bag.
“He’s bleeding,” was what he actually did say.
The nurse turned to him and nodded, keeping her face calm. “Yeah—yeah, he is. But it’s not too bad. The kidneys are sort of fragile that way. They bleed a little with almost any trauma. Sometimes, even putting the catheter in turns the urine pink. So we’re not too worried, not yet.”
Talker nodded. “What are they going to do with his shoulder?”
The nurse sighed. “That’s a tough one. I think, when he’s stabilized a little more, and we’re sure his insides are going to hold up, they’re going to have to operate to repair the ligaments and some of the torn muscles there. That’s going to be an ongoing thing right there—physical therapy, the whole nine yards.”
“It’s gonna hurt,” Tate said quietly, and the nurse nodded sympathetically.
“No two ways about it,” she confirmed.
Tate couldn’t seem to stop stroking Brian’s hand. “He’s tough.”
Brian’s shoulder must have been in agony, that last year on the track team. He’d stayed—by his teeth and nails, but he’d stayed on and thrown, because he wanted the education. Tate remembered
“Revenge.”
The word was so quiet, for a minute the labored sound of Brian’s breathing silenced it.
Lyndie’s arm went around Tate’s shoulder, and she pulled his bald, Mohawked head down for a kiss. “I didn’t hear you, baby. Tell me again?”
“Revenge,” he said again, louder this time.
“Revenge?” But Lyndie sounded speculative—not surprised. “Somebody getting back at Brian?” she asked carefully, and Tate lost the same battle Brian had won, and his face crumpled like cellophane, and suddenly he was sobbing into Lyndie’s arms.
“Oh God… did everybody know but me?”
Sometime as he was losing it, crying as he hadn’t cried since the same night Brian had, the police officers tried to come in. He never saw the look sweet, fragile-seeming Aunt Lyndie cast over his shoulder to make them go away, but he had the feeling that it was that sort of danger in Brian that had brought them to this pass in the winter as it was.
Excuse Me While I Lose Something
“So, Talker , you were in your date’s home, and what happened next?”
Tate shrugged. “We were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and, you know, suddenly Trev’s all hands. And it’s not like I can blame him, right?”
“I can,” Brian said darkly, and Talker flushed.
“I told him, you know? Not in so many words, but I tried really hard to make it clear that I was looking for….” Talker blushed. “It. Sex. A good time. Whatever.”
“Love,” Brian muttered. “Be honest, dammit.”
Talker was surprised into looking at him, and his lips pulled up into a smile that he’d always hated because his teeth were crooked and his canines were prominent and his teeth were crowded, and no, foster kids didn’t always get taken to the dentist when their wisdom teeth grew in. “Well, if I was, I was looking in the wrong place for it, wasn’t I?”
Aunt Lyndie’s presence was the right place for love, just like Brian’s was.
Talker calmed down after a while. The dreaded cops had backed off, and were waiting outside of Brian’s room with dark glances and a way of making anyone who tried to visit the room feel unwelcome—even the nurse.
The nurse didn’t “bustle”—in fact, a few years older than Lyndie, with lovely gray eyes in tanned skin, she seemed to radiate a sort of competent serenity, and Talker was grateful.
“With all of that,” she said, after “hmmming” over the pink fluid coming from Brian’s catheter at the foot of the bed, “you’d think this guy was the winner of the fight and not the loser.”
Tate bit his tongue to keep from blurting out, “Yeah, but he won the first one.” Instead, he focused on what she was doing with the catheter bag.
“He’s bleeding,” was what he actually did say.
The nurse turned to him and nodded, keeping her face calm. “Yeah—yeah, he is. But it’s not too bad. The kidneys are sort of fragile that way. They bleed a little with almost any trauma. Sometimes, even putting the catheter in turns the urine pink. So we’re not too worried, not yet.”
Talker nodded. “What are they going to do with his shoulder?”
The nurse sighed. “That’s a tough one. I think, when he’s stabilized a little more, and we’re sure his insides are going to hold up, they’re going to have to operate to repair the ligaments and some of the torn muscles there. That’s going to be an ongoing thing right there—physical therapy, the whole nine yards.”
“It’s gonna hurt,” Tate said quietly, and the nurse nodded sympathetically.
“No two ways about it,” she confirmed.
Tate couldn’t seem to stop stroking Brian’s hand. “He’s tough.”
Brian’s shoulder must have been in agony, that last year on the track team. He’d stayed—by his teeth and nails, but he’d stayed on and thrown, because he wanted the education. Tate remembered
Similar Books
Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel
Octavia McKenzie
Too Naughty
Brenda Hampton
The Messenger of Magnolia Street
River Jordan
Moon Over Manifest
Clare Vanderpool
More Than Enough
Ashley Johnson
Star Watch
Mark Wayne McGinnis
An Ever Fixéd Mark
Jessie Olson
Seeking Single Male
Stephanie Bond
My Bad Boy Biker
Sam Crescent