“She’s terrified of being alone,” Thomas said. “Please, can’t you make an exception?”
“Mr. Kinsey, I understand you’re concerned, but she won’t be alone. She’s in the most intensively staffed area of the hospital. We can give her medication to calm her without sedating her if she’s distressed.”
The men returned to the waiting room. Nevvie wasn’t awake by the eight a.m. visitation. They had removed the breathing tube, replacing it with an oxygen cannula in her nose, and she still had the nasal drainage tube. The next visitation wasn’t until one p.m. The day nurse promised to call them immediately if she awoke.
Nevvie felt trapped, suffocated. Like she was wrapped in a black cotton cocoon with no way to escape. What happened? Where were her boys?
Oh, God, please let them be okay!
Images roiled through her brain—the Halloween party, the spa day, the boys proposing, when they rescued her from…
Alex! He attacked her!
Nevvie’s eyes flew open. She gasped for air, trying to scream but her throat was sore, raw, her voice little more than a weak croak. She frantically clawed at the air and then a nurse was at her side, trying to calm her. Where the hell was she? She hurt. Goddamn her stomach hurt!
“Ty…Tom…”
“It’s okay, Ms. Barton,” the nurse soothed. “You’re in Tampa Community Hospital. You’re okay.”
Nevvie looked around. “…boys…” They weren’t there.
“You’re safe, ma’am.” A doctor examined her, checking her vital signs. “You had surgery and you’re in the intensive care unit.”
Nevvie looked at the nurse again and tried to speak. “Where are they?” Nevvie tried to sit up but the nurse’s hand and a dizzying wave of pain held her back.
“Where’s who?”
Nevvie felt the tears and didn’t try to stop them. Were they even here? She’d yelled and screamed at them, and now she needed them. She was still pissed, but she was willing to deal with that later. She couldn’t leave them. She needed them. Now.
“Where are my husbands?”
The nurse and the doctor exchanged glances.
The men looked up when a doctor walked into the waiting room. “Mr. Paulson? Mr. Kinsey?”
They both stood.
“Please follow me.” He left without waiting for them. Tyler and Thomas exchanged a brief look before hurrying after him. At the SICU door the doctor turned and dropped his voice.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, and frankly, I don’t care. It’s not my business. She’s awake. You can stay for thirty minutes unless her condition changes or there’s an emergency.” He looked at the men. “She woke up asking for her ‘husbands.’ I’m assuming that’s you two.”
Both men nodded.
“I’m won’t have to call security to keep the peace, will I?”
The men shook their heads.
“No,” Tyler said, trying to cover. “It’s fine. I’m sure she’s just upset. We did warn the staff she’s terrified of being in the hospital.”
The doctor eyed them and finally let them in. They scrubbed as fast as they could and raced to Nevvie’s alcove. When she saw them she closed her eyes and reached out both hands, sobbing with relief as they huddled close.
Tyler didn’t care who saw him cry. His angel was awake, that’s all that mattered. “Nevvie,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I love you so much.”
She weakly squeezed his hand. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, sweetheart.”
She squeezed again. “Stop. It’s okay.”
Thomas held her other hand. “You scared me bad, Nevvie. I was afraid I’d lost you, sugar.”
She squeezed his hand. “Not yet. Alex?”
“In jail. Denied bond.”
“Can you stay?”
“Thirty minutes,” Thomas told her. “I’m sorry, then we have to leave. Once you’re out of here and in a regular room we can probably sweet talk them into letting us bend the rules so I can stay with you all the time.”
If Tyler noticed his particular phraseology, he said nothing.
But Nevvie noticed. She squeezed their hands. “Both. Not just you.”
Thomas glared at Tyler. Now was not the time to stress her out. “I doubt they’ll let us both stay all the time, sugar, but we’ll work something out, alternate shifts. Okay?”
She nodded and squeezed their hands again. “I love you. Both. I need both.”
Tyler leaned in. “Sweetheart, we’re here for you. Don’t worry, we’re fine. You just focus on getting better.”
“Did you sleep?”
Thomas nodded. “Some. They made us go home.”
She brought her hands together over her chest, forcing the men’s hands to touch while she held them. Neither had the heart to pull away.
“Eat. Rest. Okay?” She held them like that until the nurse told them their time was up. Nevvie was falling asleep anyway. Each man leaned over and tenderly kissed her on the lips.
“I love you, Nevvie,” Tyler whispered.
“Love you, too.”
“Love you, baby girl,” Tom said. “I’ll take care of you. You just get better.”
“Love you, too. Both.”
The men reluctantly left.
They came back to see Nevvie later. In that time the men had spoken less than ten words. The staff bent the rules and let them stay an hour with the warning that the men would have to leave if another SICU patient had an emergency. Nevvie drifted to sleep before their time was up, and the men kissed her and reluctantly left.
When they returned home they spotted a car waiting, parked on the street. A woman and a man jumped out. “Mr. Paulson? Barbara Walsing, from the Tampa Tribune. Can we talk with you?”
He held up a hand and shook his head, heading for the house. Thomas grabbed the mail from their box, the paper laying in the drive, and shook his head.
“No comment. Please, just give us privacy.”
He locked the front door behind him and dumped the mail and paper on the counter. He yanked the paper from the bag and looked at it, nothing in the A section. In the local section, a headline on the front page above the fold read, “Local Author’s Housemate Stabbed, Critical.”
Goddammit.
He took a deep breath and read. While it didn’t specifically mention them being gay, it said, “…the housemate of famous author, Tyler Paulson, and his long-time partner, award-winning architect and local developer, Thomas Kinsey…”
Great. Hopefully Tyler had called Maggie, because he’d totally forgotten.
Carrying the paper, he stopped at the answering machine. Over forty messages and it blinked that the machine was full.
Craptacular. He walked to the bedroom. Without a word he handed Tyler the paper.
He sank to the bed, reading. “I’m sorry, Thomas,” he finally whispered.
Thomas undressed. He still wore her necklace and rings under his shirt. “For what, Ty?” His anger boiled, barely restrained. “For nearly getting her killed? For breaking her heart? For being a fucking dumb shit? You need to be a little more specific than that.”
“For everything. I’m so sorry.”
“Here’s how this is going to work. I won’t have her become a media sideshow. The gay guys’ girlfriend. So I am going to take care of her. You are going to stay the fuck away from her once she’s out of ICU. She doesn’t need TMZ offering bounties for pictures of you at her bedside.”
“You can’t stay there twenty-four hours a day. You have to sleep.”