Shattered Glass(137)

“I might take you up on that,” I murmured, then opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside the ICU room.

Peter’s mother turned on me before the door closed. “You are not welcome here.”

“You said that the first time you kicked me out. So I thought I’d give you some time to reconsider.” I took a seat near the bed. Her seat. It was petty. I was petty. “Then, while I was having my nose set, I thought to myself, ‘what a great hospital. I bet they could use a million dollars.’ Guess what? They did!”

Darryl laughed and flopped in a nearby chair.

“I am still his mother,” she said staunchly.

“Yeah? Good luck with that. I’m still rich.”

Until he took my hand, I hadn’t realized Peter had woken up. We all went silent. He opened his eyes slowly and met mine.

“Your nose,” he whispered.

“Petya. Sweet boy.” His mother combed her fingers through his hair as she kissed his forehead.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Darryl squeeze Peter’s knee.

Peter’s eyes never moved from mine. I couldn’t speak. “Hey, mamma,” he said with a barely there smile. My throat closed on an emotional swallow. His lids fluttered, then lowered and his breathing once again slowed.

For the next seven hours, we sat in silence. The nurses came and went way too often. Darryl occasionally left to call and update Cai and Rosa. Not that there was much to update. Peter woke up three times besides the nurses visits. The longest was two minutes. Each time he asked for water. We gave him ice shavings, and he slipped into sleep again. So did I at some point.

I awoke to a tingling sensation spilling over my scalp. Peeling my eyes open, I blinked a few times at the blur of shadows. Fingers spread into my hair, curled up and then radiated outward again. I tilted my face from my crossed-arms pillow and gave Peter a bleary smile. His hand slipped along my cheek and fell to the bed softly.

“They broke your nose?”

“It might be an improvement.” I stretched and yawned. “Been awake long?”

“Few minutes.” He turned his head. I twisted mine to follow his stare. Darryl was curled and snoring on the floor. Zhavra was missing.

I took his hand and brought his attention back to me while I played with his fingers. “Cai’s safe.”

“I know. Darryl told me a while ago.”

“How do you feel?”

“Sleepy.”

“Sleep helps with that.”

“Going to sleep in a second.” His turn to yawn, though he winced at the end of it. There was a long pause after I threaded our fingers together. “Austin?”

“Yeah, Peter Rabbit?”

“Kiss me goodnight?”

“No,” I said, studying our joined hands.

“C’mon.”

The strange foreboding crept over me again. That a kiss was his way of saying goodbye. And if I pressed my lips against his, I’d catch his last breath. I pushed the selfish thoughts away. Leaning up, I braced my hands near his shoulders and let the heat of him draw me close.

He smelled of antiseptic and sweat, and the weird hospital scent that clung to the sick. “Your breath reeks.” I grazed his lips with mine. His fingers touched my thigh. My heart wrecked into my ribcage. I dusted his mouth with another kiss and felt him sigh against me.

“I’m not dying.” He wet his lips, his tongue inadvertently brushing against my mouth.

“Oh, good, because I’m not into necrophilia, but all that could change.” I tugged the hair over his forehead and licked the taste of him off my upper lip. “Want me to go get your mother?”

“Stay.”

“Arf,” I said softly. He fell asleep with a smile. I was sure that was the most useful thing I’d done all day.





Running On Empty

I was pulled out of my vigil a few hours later and taken to the station to give my recorded statement. There, I learned Frank, Del and Dave were exchanging information for protective custody. After leaving the interview room, a crutch-wielding Luis filled me in on the details that Internal Affairs had refused to divulge to me.

“You look like you’re on your last leg, partner.”

“Get it all out, Glass.” He sat his butt on the corner of my desk, leaned his crutches against the arm of my chair and exhaled with an almost pleading look to the ceiling.

“I’m done,” I said, resting back in my chair. I wasn’t feeling very witty. What I did feel was conflicted between wanting to be with Peter and resolving the case.

Luis tossed a paper-stuffed file on the desk. “The plastic melted around everything like a seal. Some smoke and water damage, but the passport numbers were salvageable.”