Ripped (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) (9 page)

Roman stood, walking the short distance to where an older version of himself stood leaning heavily on a cane.

“When your mother told me what had happened and your reaction…Anyway, what kind of father would I be if I wasn’t here for my son and his husband? I may not understand what you and Kyle share, but I would have to be cold and uncaring if I didn’t see that you share something I want to understand.”

“I’ve missed you, Dad,” Roman said, quietly staring at his father.

“So have I. Kyle’s a part of our family now. Will you help me understand? What about you, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Roman answered his father as both men sat down. “Another accident where I walk away unscathed. I can’t lose Kyle, too,” he said, feeling the words choke in his throat.

“I am assuming that young man up there in surgery needs you just as much as you do him,” his father said, putting his arm around Roman’s shoulders. “Lisa and Adam’s deaths were not your fault, nor is this accident. If anything, I suspect that Kyle’s will to live has a lot to do with my son. I’m proud of the man you are. I don’t know if I could have handled everything that has been dealt to you in the last five years.”

“I love you, Daddy,” Roman replied, wiping his eyes.

Before his father had a chance to respond, Roman saw a group of what appeared to be doctors entering the waiting room. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Roman saw that it was almost seven that evening. He had lost track of time as earlier events swirled in his brain.

“I am assuming you’re Roman?” the older of the two doctors said, removing his surgical cap. “We’ve heard quite a bit about you from Mr. Stringer. Probably more than what we should have.”

Standing to shake the man’s hand, Roman said, “I apologize for his mouth. Is his okay?”

“Roman, I am Doctor Winters, the orthopedic surgeon on staff, and this is Doctor Amir, vascular surgery.”

Eyeing both doctors, Roman thought the Middle Eastern vascular surgeon looked barely older than Kyle.

“Roman, I think we need to sit down,” Dr. Winters said.

“No. Is Kyle okay?”

“His legs were badly damaged. Probably the worst I have seen in a long time. It was like a grenade had gone off in there. There was nothing that we could do to save either leg. In cases like this, we run the risk of infection that can be more deadly than the injury itself.”

As the doctors words started to fade, much like the garbled sounds of the voices at the crash site, Roman fought to remain in control.

“How much is gone?” Roman asked, stifling a wave of nausea.

“Both legs had to be removed from the knee down.”

Roman sank into a nearby chair as his mother tried to console him.

Hearing a thick Middle Eastern accent, Roman looked to up hearing Doctor Amir explain what he thought was a textbook definition of Kyle’s injuries.

“He’s lucky to be here, Mr. Carter,” Doctor Winters replied.

Roman had been oblivious to the woman standing slightly behind the doctors, wearing scrubs and what appeared to be a flight jacket.

“Anna, the registered nurse that was on the flight, asked us if she could speak with you as well,” Winters continued.

Ignoring the young woman, Roman replied, “When can I see him?”

“He’s lost a lot of blood and sustained a tremendous amount of trauma to his body.”

Not letting the doctor finish, Roman stated again, “I just want to see if he’s okay!”

“He will be in intensive care for at least the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Two visitors, ten minutes each, or one visitor for twenty every hour.”

“Does he know?”

“No. He’s been sedated since he came out of surgery. I’d like to keep him that way until at least tomorrow.”

“I want to be the one who tells him,” Roman said quickly.

“Not until he’s out of IC, unless he asks.”

Roman turned his attention to Anna, introducing himself.

Both doctors excused themselves, letting Roman know that they would be on call throughout the night and would visit Kyle on rounds tomorrow.

“I’m Anna, the flight nurse that was with you and your partner on the way into Hot Springs. I wanted to make sure that I had a chance to find out how Kyle is doing. Also, when he wakes up, I’d like you to apologize for me. When you two were separated when the flight landed, I whispered to him that I was a butch lesbian, and if he didn’t calm down I would beat the crap out of him.”

Roman smiled, looking at the petite woman standing in front of him, thinking that she hardly fit the definition of butch.

“Thank you for everything you did. Also, did Kyle calm down?”

“My words and, of course, Ativan seemed to help. Maybe when Kyle is better, we can all go to lunch. Rebecca and I do not have a great deal of friends, or at least supportive friends. We’ve been together for almost five years. I’m not going to keep you. I’ve got some paperwork that I need to finish before I go home, and I am sure you want to see Kyle.”

Before she walked away, Roman took the piece of paper that she handed him with a phone number written down.

It took every ounce of strength that Roman had not to break down as he saw Kyle lying unconscious and hooked up to a deluge of machines. His face was so battered and bruised. There appeared to be a gash on his chin that had been sutured. Roman smoothed the hair from his husband’s face as tears filled his eyes.

“My sweet boy,” he whispered, knowing that he wanted more than twenty minutes every hour.

Recalling the promise that he made when they arrived at the hospital, he reaffirmed his vow not to leave until Kyle could go home with him. Roman had already made plans to sleep in the surgical waiting room until his husband could be moved to a regular room. He had sent his mother and father to his condo to pick up some clothes.

“I won’t leave you, baby,” he spoke quietly, leaning down to kiss Kyle’s forehead, “not until you can leave with me. We will get through this. I’ll always love you regardless.”

Kyle’s body was covered with a sheet, shielding Roman from the bandages that lay beneath. He was going to be the one to tell Kyle, knowing that would be the hardest thing he would ever have to say to his lover.

Pulling a chair next to the bed, Roman sat down, taking Kyle’s hand in his. He only had ten minutes left. His thoughts turned to Kyle’s green eyes staring back at his on the pavement, wishing that it had been him lying there.

“We should be at the lodge in each other’s arms, not here, sweet boy,” Roman said, bringing Kyle’s hand to his lips, smelling a combination of oxygen and surgical disinfectant.

Thirty minutes later, Roman met his mother and father back in the waiting room.

“Have you had anything to eat? You look so tired,” his mother asked, placing a warm hand on his cheek.

“I’ll get something later. I want to be near Kyle.”

“Are you sure you want to stay here? Dad and I are more than happy for you to come to the house for a few days. I can make up the guest bedroom for you.”

“Mama, I’m fine. I promised him that I wouldn’t leave.”

“Abigail, leave him be,” Roman’s father quickly spoke. “I am assuming that he is doing what any person would do when they are in love with someone.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Roman said as he hugged his father.

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, son.”

After saying good-bye to his parents in the parking lot, Roman went back to Kyle’s room. This time he sat in silence, caressing his partner’s hand in his own. He wondered what the staff would think if he curled his body beside Kyle to sleep. He also pondered sleeping on the floor near the bed. Security would throw him out for sure. Knowing he needed sleep was one thing, as he had to stay strong for Kyle, but leaving him was another. Even if Kyle was in a medically induced state of unconsciousness, it gave Roman a sense of solace to think that his husband was aware of his presence. Laying his head on the bed, he thought for a moment that he felt Kyle’s hand squeeze his, ultimately realizing that it was his own imagination.

The sofa in the surgical waiting room was definitely not designed for overnight guests, as Roman woke to what felt like a dull ache throughout his body. His shoulder was stiff, and it throbbed as he sat up. His watch read five thirty. Doctors would soon be making their rounds. As he grabbed a fresh shirt from his backpack nearby, Roman wished that he had his bottle of Demerol. He also wondered if there was a medication to heal the pain in his heart. Roman already missed feeling Kyle’s arms around him, his husband’s boyish grin, and his partner’s sense of adventure. Buttoning his shirt, he realized just how close he had come to losing those things, and the idea washed a familiar wave of nausea through his body.

The morning doctor’s visit was technical, as Roman watched both surgeons checking Kyle’s legs and reviewing his chart from the previous night. Seeing his husband’s injuries for the first time had proved more difficult than Roman had imagined. He wanted to take Kyle into him arms and assure him of the love they shared. If anything, Roman felt more intimacy with his husband right now than he ever did while making love.

As if Dr. Winters could read his mind, he said, “Kyle is going to need your support and love in the months to come. He’s doing very well, considering his condition when I first saw him yesterday. I’d say he was a fighter, because that was all he had. I’m disconnecting the medication that has been keeping him unconscious. I want him waking up, hopefully by this afternoon. Go slow when you tell him. If he continues to improve, I’ll order him out to a regular room in the morning.”

“How soon can I take him home?”

“That depends on Kyle. I’ve seen patients with this type of injury go home in two weeks, while some have stayed a few months or more. He will need physical therapy, and, of course, prosthetics if he chooses. There is no reason why he can’t live a normal life.”

Roman felt Kyle begin to stir later that afternoon. His husband’s fingers caressing his own gave Roman a sense of hope.

“Where am I?” Kyle whispered as Roman kissed his forehead.

Moving to sit next to him on the bed, still holding their fingers entwined, Roman replied, “You’re in the hospital. There was an accident, and you were injured.”

“I don’t remember much,” Kyle replied. “We were riding the Harley, and then everything just goes black. Why can’t I remember?” Kyle continued, looking at Roman with the same fear in his eyes as when he was pinned beneath the Wrangler.

“It’s okay. We’ll remember together.”

“I want to know what happened,” Kyle asked, trying to sit up.

Roman watched as his husband’s face distorted in pain.

“Lie down, silly boy. You’re still hooked up to a morphine pump. Push the button if you need to. Then we can remember what happened together.”

Roman barely remembered telling Kyle the details of the accident, but he knew that he would always remember Kyle’s response.

“Get out!” Kyle screamed.

“Baby, we can look at the bandages together! We can get through this!”

“Get the hell out, Roman! Visiting the sick is over!”

Knowing Kyle’s words were probably a product of trauma and a reaction to strong painkillers didn’t reduce their ability to sting Roman’s heart.

“I’m sorry, silly boy. I made a promise to you that I wasn’t leaving until you could go home with me.”

“Well I’m relieving you of that obligation,” Kyle spoke, tossing his water pitcher at Roman, drenching him in the process.

“Maybe it’s best if you leave, at least for a few hours,” a voice spoke from the door.

Doctor Winters was standing in the doorway.

“While visiting another patient, I was alerted to the fact that Kyle was beginning to wake up.”

“I don’t love you anymore, Roman. Is that enough to make you leave?” Kyle stated, turning his face to the wall.

“You can’t possible mean that,” Roman said quietly.

“Roman, can I speak to you at the nurse’s desk?” Dr. Winters spoke quietly.

Roman fought to retain his composure. Turning to Kyle, he said, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Security can escort you out, then,” Kyle replied.

Roman leaned against the nurses’ station, putting his face in his hands. That was where his emotions collapsed as he let his tears flow freely.

“Come on, son. Let’s go get a cup of coffee. I’ve been off duty for about thirty minutes anyway.”

Sitting across from the older gentleman in the cafeteria, Roman wrapped his hands around a Styrofoam cup.

“I’ve never been able to drink it black like that,” the doctor said, stirring in creamer. The nurses say that you slept in the surgical waiting room last night and have been visiting Kyle nearly every waking hour. You look bad! What have you had to eat in the last twenty-four hours? I see injuries of your own.”

“Why the interest?” Roman asked.

“I had a son about Kyle’s age…similar personalities…always smarting off to his mother and I. He was killed in a motorcycle accident last year.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman replied, drinking a sip of coffee.