Lover At Last(175)

If that could happen once, it could happen again—

Abruptly, the pain intensified, like the volume on his cranial concert from hell had suddenly been cranked.

“I’m going to go throw up for a while,” Trez mumbled as he wheeled away. “We’ll start packing as soon as this migraine is over….”

He had no idea what iAm replied, or even if the guy did.

Fuck.





SIXTY-FOUR


Standing outside the training center’s examination room, Qhuinn had his hands in the pockets of his leathers, his teeth locked tight, and his brows drawn all the way together.

Waiting. Waiting…

Medical shit was a lot like fighting, he decided: long periods of nothing doing, interjected with bursts of life-or-death.

It was enough to stamp you certifiable.

He glanced over at the door. “How much longer do you think it will be?”

Across the way, Blay crossed and uncrossed his long legs. The guy had stretched out on the floor about a half hour ago, but that had been his only concession to the wormhole of time they’d been sucked into.

“It’s got to be winding down now,” he replied.

“Yeah. Only so many parts to a body, right.”

After a moment, Qhuinn focused on the other male properly. There were dark circles under Blay’s eyes, and his cheeks had hollowed out. He was also paler than usual, his face far too light.

Qhuinn went over, leaned against the wall, and let his shitkickers slide out until his ass hit the floor next to Blay’s.

Blay glanced up and smiled a little, then resumed staring at the tips of his boots.

Qhuinn watched as his own hand reached out and brushed his friend’s jaw. As Blay started and looked over, Qhuinn was surprised to find he wanted to do so much more—and not sexually. He wanted to draw the male across his lap and have Blay put his head down. He wanted to stroke those strong shoulders and pass his fingers through that short red hair. He wanted to get some passerby to find a blanket and bring it over, so he could wrap some warmth around the powerful body that seemed to have been weakened.

Qhuinn forced his eyes away and dropped his hand.

God, he felt so fucking…trapped. Even though there were no chains on him.

Glancing down, he double-checked his wrists. Ankles. Yup, totally free over here. Nothing holding him back.

Closing his lids, he tilted his head back against the wall. In his mind, he was touching Blay—and again, not sexually. Just feeling the vitality beneath the skin, the shift of the muscle, the solidity of the bone.

“I think you should go see Selena,” he said to the guy.

Blay exhaled as if he had someone sitting on his chest. “Yeah. I know.”

“We could go together,” Qhuinn heard himself volunteer.

He opened his eyes in time to see Blay’s head whip around.

“Or you could, you know, do it on your own.” Qhuinn cracked his knuckles. “Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

Shit. In light of the whole Saxton thing, that might go too far. Feeding, after all, could be seen as more intimate than sex—

“Yeah,” Blay said softly. “I’ll do that.”

Qhuinn’s heart started to beat hard. And again, it wasn’t because he was all hopped to get it on with the guy. He just wanted to…

Share, he supposed was the right word.

No, wait. It went further than that. He wanted to take care of the male.

“You know, I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Qhuinn murmured. As Blay’s baby blues shot over, he wanted to look away—the eye contact was almost too much. But then he thought of his brother in that hospital bed—and all the ways people got robbed of time.

Jesus, he’d held so much in for so many reasons—all of which had seemed perfectly valid. But how arrogant was that? That kind of reticence assumed he’d have the time to talk about stuff when he wanted. That the person he had in the back of his mind would always be around. That he himself would be.

“For what?” Blay asked.

“For driving us home. Me and Luchas.” He heaved a great breath in and let it out slowly. “And for sitting out here with me all night. For going to Payne and getting her to help. For backing me up on the field, and during training. Also, for all those beers and video games. The chips and the M&M’s. The clothes I borrowed. The floor I slept on when I stayed over. Thanks for letting me hug your mom and talk with your dad. Thank you…for the ten thousand kind things you’ve done.”

From out of nowhere, he thought once again of that night when he’d walked in and witnessed his father giving that gold signet ring to his brother.

“Thank you for calling that night,” he said gruffly.

Blay’s eyebrows shot up. “Which night?”