Conscious Decisions of the Heart (29 page)

Come home maybe? No need speak 2 me but do other things words not needed?

2 angry with u. Need 2 work it off first.

Work it off in me.

The reply took a very long time to come but when it did, he smirked.
Give me hour
.

Nikolas tossed his phone onto the desk and took a long drink of the icy, oily liquid. He just had time for a couple more cigarettes.

§ § §

Ben returned to their table in the pub with two beers instead of the three he’d got up to buy. Nikolas being contrite was temptation enough, but the offer to work off his anger deep inside that superb body was beyond Ben’s ability to resist. Tim and Squeezy looked up from what appeared to be a very interesting conversation. Ben made a face. “Gotta go.” To his slight annoyance, neither seemed bothered by this. He told Tim to get a taxi when he was ready to return but realised no one was listening to him. He clicked to Radulf to follow him and left them to get on with it.

When he let himself into the house, he wasn’t expecting to find Nikolas in bed waiting for him exactly; but equally, he wasn’t prepared to find him in bed deeply asleep. And he particularly wasn’t happy to find him deeply asleep with a burning cigarette in his fingers alarmingly smouldering the sheet. The half-empty vodka bottle clutched in his other hand did nothing to improve the look. He wasn’t sure what to do first, but shouting, snatching the cigarette and hitting Nikolas all seemed like good ideas, so he did all three. Nikolas sat up, winced, held his head, and then staggered off the bed and into the bathroom where Ben could hear him being violently sick. Let him. He grabbed the vodka, ripped open the bedroom drawers, found a stash of cigarettes, took those, went into the office, raided all the drawers, found all sorts of things he’d think about later, went down to the kitchen and began systematically to pour out all the alcohol from the wine bottles, the vodka in the freezer, and the beer in the fridge. When that was done, he tipped out all the contents of their bags still not unpacked from the trip and found more cigarettes, more alcohol and more things he’d think about later. Finally, he sat at the table, staring at nothing, deciding what was best to do.

Nikolas finally emerged just as Ben finished loading the washing machine and clearing up the kitchen. He went to the sink and poured a glass of water. He started to take a handful of pills. Ben shot to his feet. “What the fuck are those? Let me see!”

Nikolas frowned. “What?” Before he could react, Ben had his palm open and was inspecting them. Relieved they were only painkillers, he stepped back. Nikolas glared at him. “Don’t step over the mark, Ben. I won’t tolerate it.”

Ben’s eyes widened. He couldn’t even compute this at first. He watched, slightly stunned, as Nikolas went to the freezer and reached in before realising it was empty. He asked coolly, “What’ve you done?”

“What do you think I’ve done? What the fuck is this? You’re drunk at eleven in the morning! You were drunk yesterday! And you were smoking in bed! In bed, Nik! With a bottle of neat vodka spilling out alongside…You set the sheet alight! If I hadn’t come—This is
serious
. It’s like you’re a totally different person! On Aeroe—”

“On Aeroe,” Nikolas came up close and personal with Ben. “On
Aeroe
I was busy looking after
you
.” Ben faltered in his righteousness. He couldn’t deny this. Nikolas smirked. “I’m having a holiday from—”

“From me? Is that what you mean?” Nikolas suddenly bent at the waist, hand to his head. Ben caught his arm, but he shook him off. He backed off, staring at Ben as if he’d no idea who he was. Radulf began to growl, distressed at the situation. Nikolas’s eyes swivelled to the dog. He went pale then he blinked and croaked in Danish, “That’s Radulf, yes?”

Ben’s eyes widened, and he took hold of both of Nikolas’s arms gently. It was like watching a god fail. He bit his lip then gently pulled Nikolas into a deep hug. He stroked his head, just holding him, then whispered, “What’s wrong, baby?”

Nikolas didn’t reply for a while then admitted equally quietly, “I don’t know. I—” He stopped with a catch in his voice.

Ben kissed into his neck and over his ear. “Okay, it’s okay.” He sat Nikolas down, and Radulf immediately came and stood beside him, trying desperately to defend him from a threat he couldn’t see or hear. Nikolas put his hand tentatively on Radulf’s head and then seemed surer and began to methodically stroke around his ears. Radulf groaned in pleasure. Ben put a mug of tea in front of Nikolas and slid into the chair opposite him. Nikolas traced a small spill of tea into a pattern. He flicked his eyes up. “I just have another headache. I’m sorry. Will I be forgiven?”

“You will if you agree to see a doctor. I don’t even know if you have a doctor. I don’t know anything about you really, do I?”

Nikolas swallowed. “I don’t need to see a doctor.”

Ben took his hand, playing with his fingers for a while, and then looked up through lowered lashes. “What would you do if it were me?”

Nikolas smiled slightly. “I’d probably spank you for setting fire to the bed, but you’d enjoy it too much for it to be effective punishment.”

“You’d also make me go see a doctor.”

Nikolas sighed. “The number is in the office. In the top drawer…wait, I’ll fetch it.”

Ben gave him a look. “I already know what’s in your top drawer, and we’ll have that conversation when we’ve recovered from this one, yeah?”

Nikolas shrugged as if unconcerned, but Ben could tell Nik was beginning to feel badly wrong-footed when he mumbled something about replacements and eighteen-year-olds. Ben found the number and brought it down. Nikolas called and got an appointment the following day. Once again, money and rank had its privileges.

They spent the rest of the day entangled on the sofa, watching some movies with the fire crackling in the hearth. Despite the situation, they were both very content, Ben having Nikolas where he could keep an eye on him, and Nikolas, for once, allowing himself to be ill. The painkillers weren’t helping much anymore, and Nikolas’s headache continued getting worse.

Tim came in sometime in the early evening. He leant in the doorway to the main room and nodded at Ben, eyeing Nikolas slightly more warily. If Ben had been worried Nikolas was ill before, he was almost beside himself now. That Nikolas would continue to lie in his arms when someone else was present was unthinkable. It was one of the most uncharacteristic things Nikolas had ever done in the five years he’d known him, and no one could say knowing Nikolas Mikkelsen hadn’t been a roller-coaster ride already.

Tim appeared quite buoyed by his interesting afternoon but his face fell a little when he saw Ben and Nikolas entwined and clearly so complete in each other’s company. He turned away suddenly like a man who’d just realised what he’d lost. Perhaps he and John had spent many cold, wet January evenings doing just what Ben and Nikolas were now. It was clearly a bit of a downer after an invigorating, if probably profane, afternoon.

“You guys eaten yet?”

When Ben said they hadn’t, Tim volunteered to order something in. Nikolas didn’t object—but then he had his eyes closed and didn’t appear to be bothered what anyone else did as long as they left him alone. Before the food arrived, however, he excused himself and went up to bed.

Ben couldn’t manage much of his meal after that; Radulf had to bravely take up the slack. Tim told him Chinese probably wasn’t good for him, but Radulf disagreed. Tim, toying with a prawn cracker, finally asked, “Is it me being here?”

Ben shook his head swiftly. “God, no. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Go up to him, Ben. Just be there. It may not seem like he wants you to, but he does.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Maybe it’s best not to know someone so well to see the truth. I think you saw John better than I did, and we’d been together twelve years. Nikolas is afrai—No, Ben, listen. I know you don’t want to think it, but he is—he’s scared. He’s sick—maybe for the first time in his life, facing something he can’t fight. Oh, hell, what am I saying? Ignore me. What do I know? Look at me…” He pushed his plate away, staring morosely out at the dark beyond the brightly lit kitchen. “I wonder what John and the bastard baby are doing now.”

“Each other, probably. How did it go with Squeezy?”

“Who?”

Ben frowned. No one usually forgot Squeezy.

“You mean Michael?”

“Michael. Seriously?” Ben chuckled. “Michael. So?”

Tim smirked. “Go upstairs, Ben. You’re needed.”

Ben took his advice. He used the spare bathroom and then slid very quietly into bed so as not to wake Nikolas. He smiled when a hand snaked out and pulled him close. Nikolas breathed deeply into Ben’s short hair. “Hello, Benjamin.”

Ben could have cried at the familiar and so welcome greeting. He pulled him closer and breathed into Nikolas’s ear, “Hello, baby.”

Nikolas stilled for a moment in Ben’s arms. “That’s twice you’ve used that ridiculous term.”

“Mmm, I know. It suits you.”

Ben heard a deep sigh. “You’re the stupidest person I know, Benjamin Rider.” And then Nikolas was asleep in his arms. He kissed the shorn, scarred head and thought to himself if stupidity led to being in this bed, holding this man, then he wouldn’t swap dumbness for all of Nikolas’s smarts.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The appointment with the doctor was in the afternoon. Ben announced he’d take Radulf to the park early, get some shopping in and be back in time so he could drive.

They couldn’t park outside the smart Harley Street address, so Ben double-parked and Nikolas climbed out. “Text me when you’re done, and I’ll swing by again.” Nikolas shook his head. “I’ll get a taxi back.” He adjusted his immaculate suit, which didn’t need any adjustment at all, and breezed into the imposing building as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

When he was called in, Nikolas and the doctor eyed each other openly for a moment, judging and assessing. Dr Andrea Gillian’s slightly patronising smirk told Nikolas that she was well aware she didn’t fit most people’s expectations of a trauma specialist. He eyed her petite femininity with alarm. He didn’t like women particularly, and his recent experiences had done nothing to endear them to him. This doctor was disconcerting, and he wasn’t at his best to start with. Summoning his aloof air of cool disinterest, he sat obediently to her gesture of welcome and faced her, masks in place.

“So, what appears to be the problem, Mr Mikkelsen? You look as if you’ve been in the wars.”

“Yes.”

“You have a head injury? Do you mind…?” She rose and came out from behind her desk, all four foot nothing and heels. Nikolas tipped his head to one side obediently as she felt around his scarring. He closed his eyes. This close, the intimacy of being touched by a stranger, a woman, was overpowering. “You told my nurse this happened recently in Denmark, I believe?”

“Yes. An ice hockey game.”

“It’s healing very well indeed.” She moved over to the other side, probing where Gabby had originally hit him with one of Ben’s pine logs, they’d concluded, then she returned to her dominant position behind the desk. “So, what brings you here today?”

Nikolas pursed his lips. He wanted to claim something dramatic and manly…an amputation, possibly?—gunshot?—but eventually he reluctantly admitted, “I have headaches.”

She sat up a little higher and began to take notes. “Have you ever suffered from headaches in the past?”

“No.”

“Previous head injury? Particularly in that area?”

“Possibly. I don’t recall.”

“All right. Tell me, when did the headaches start?”

He gave her a look and waved at his scar vaguely. She gave him a pained smile. “What I meant is, was there a delay of a few days, or did you notice the headaches immediately?”

“I don’t recall.”

“Okay.” She tapped her pen against her mouth, regarding him for a moment. “Are you married?”

He frowned. “No.”

“In a relationship?”

“Why is that relevant?”

“I need to know if there’s anyone who sees you regularly enough to notice changes in behaviour patterns. Is there someone like that, Mr Mikkelsen?”