Wild Raspberries (3 page)

Tyler let him hammer the last nail home, which Dan enjoyed doing because he was good with his hands, always had been, and a small part of him wanted to let Tyler see that. It felt good to hit it just
so
and watch it go where it belonged.

“That’s good enough,” Tyler said and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Let’s get the hell off this roof. I feel like I’m being barbecued.”

“Or slow-roasted,” Dan agreed, reaching out for the tub of nails and fitting the lid on it snugly.

They started to move back to the ladder, caution making Dan keep back and let Tyler take the lead. The shingles were slippery with age, and his sweaty hands weren’t much use at controlling his descent down the gradual slope.

Tyler moved like a cat, sure-footed and fast, which made what happened next even more unfair. Dan watched Tyler’s hand drag over something that glittered fiercely in the sunlight —glass? — and called out a warning in the instant that Tyler grunted in pain and brought his hand up to his mouth. Blood welled and dripped from the ragged tear, but before the first scarlet drop hit the roof, Tyler was rolling, his balance lost, gravity sucking at him and calling him home.

Dan scrambled after him, heedless of his own precarious footing, and got to the edge of the roof in time to see Tyler land, one foot doubled up under him, the breath driven out of his body by the force of his landing.

He didn’t cry out, or swear, which disturbed Dan more than screams of pain would have. He just lay there, his face contorted, and fought to refill his lungs with harsh gasps and pants that hurt to hear.

“I’m coming!” Dan called out, uselessly, pointlessly. He swung himself onto the ladder and jumped off it as soon as he was close to the ground. By the time he got to where Tyler had landed, Tyler was sitting up.

“Left ankle,” he said, his voice tight. “Broke it a few years back.” He bit his lip and then eased his foot out in front of him, using both hands. “Fuck, that hurts.” He gave Dan a quizzical glance. “I guess it’s your turn to do me a good deed.”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Dan said. He wanted to do something — put his arm around Tyler’s shoulders; maybe pat Tyler’s arm comfortingly, but the man was so self-sufficient and calm it would’ve seemed like an insult.

Tyler shook his head. “No need. It’s not broken again; just sprained. I meant, take me into town in my truck. You were headed that way, anyway. Doc Collins will see to me.”

Dan summoned up some vague memories of a first aid course. “RICE,” he said. “Rest, ice —”

“I know all that.” Pain was etching lines around Tyler’s mouth. “Yeah. Better get it strapped up and some ice on it before it starts swelling.” He nodded at the cabin. “I guess you can find the ice, and there’re bandages and such in the cupboard in the bathroom.” He held up his bleeding hand and examined it before sighing. “Fucking glass. How in the name of God did that get up there? Better bring some water, too, so I can wash it out.”

“Sure,” Dan said. “I’ll get it.” He laid his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, needing to breach the isolation the man surrounded himself with. “God, I’m sorry.”

“My fault,” Tyler said. “Now, if you’d slipped and knocked me over, I might be pissed, but I can’t see what you’ve got to apologize for.” He raised his eyebrows. “Except for chatting when you should be going to get me some fucking ice.”

There was no real bite to the words, but Dan flushed and backed away. “Ice. Right.”

He moved as quickly as he could in the unfamiliar house. Ice cubes in a plastic freezer bag, a deep bowl of warm water with a splash of antiseptic in it and a clean washcloth, an Ace bandage, antibiotic cream, Band-Aids… His hands full, he went back out and found Tyler, sweating and pale and sitting on a log some thirty feet away from where he’d landed, his injured ankle propped up on a chopping post.

“I could’ve helped you move,” Dan told him. He put everything down and gave Tyler a glare that glanced off the man like sunlight off water. “That was just plain dumb.”

“Shut up and help me get my boot off.”

Dan slapped Tyler’s hands away from the laces and put the bowl of water in Tyler’s lap. “Soak your hand.”

Tyler rolled his eyes and dunked his hand in hard enough that the water splashed his shirt. He snatched it out a moment later. “Jesus! What did you put in here? Moonshine?”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Dan said, savoring the moment. The man fell off a roof without even whimpering and then fussed over the sting of peroxide?

Tyler flicked some of the water at him and then immersed the hand again. “Boy, you sure do like to live dangerously.”

“Yeah,” Dan said as he eased Tyler’s boot off. “I’m about to take off your sweaty sock to prove it.”

He peeled the sock away as carefully as he could, cradling Tyler’s heel in his hand. In the end, finding it easier that way, he sat on the stump with Tyler’s foot in his lap. He worked the Ace bandage slowly over a foot and ankle that were already swollen, bruises rising under the skin. Tyler’s foot was sweaty, yes, but the skin was clean, the nails clipped neatly. Then he draped the icepack over the bandage and turned his attention to Tyler’s hand.

“Might need stitches,” Tyler told him, when Dan had blotted away the water. It was deep, but the bleeding had stopped. “At least my tetanus is up to date.” He pulled a face when he saw what Dan was holding. “A Band-Aid? She’ll just tear it off.”

Dan stuck one over the torn skin anyway. “You don’t want to get dirt in it. That should do it.” He raised his eyes and met Tyler’s calm gaze. Reaction hit, and he began to shiver.

“Hey.”

“S-sorry.” His teeth were chattering. Fuck. “You could have been killed.”

Tyler made a soft, scoffing sound. “From there? It couldn’t have been more than twelve feet, if that.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dan shook his head. “You could’ve, you
could
.”

“But I didn’t.” Tyler’s unhurt hand cupped his face and held it still, thumb stroking Dan’s cheek. “You’re just all over the fucking place, aren’t you? And don’t say sorry again.”

“I guess I am,” Dan admitted and tried to steady his voice. “Shit, I’m such a fucking girl.”

Tyler took his hand away after an admonitory pat nowhere near hard enough to be a slap. “I know some girls who’d rip your head off if they heard you say that.”

Dan thought about it and grinned a little shamefacedly. “Yeah, I do, too.”

“Go get the truck keys from the hook by the kitchen door,” Tyler said. “And my cell phone is —” He hesitated.

“Where?” Dan said after a moment.

“Just get the keys,” Tyler said shortly. “And lock up the cabin. You’ll work out which key goes where.”

“Did anyone ever teach you to say ‘please’?”

Tyler just stared at him, gray eyes cool. Dan felt tempted to just drop Tyler’s foot down on the stump — hard — but remembered the sandwich and set it down gently instead. “Don’t go anywhere this time, okay?”

Tyler shrugged. “I’ll be right here waiting.” There was a subtle emphasis on the last word that seemed to say it wasn’t something he was good at, so Dan should hurry.

When Dan had gone inside, Tyler let himself relax into the pain. More than just his ankle and hand was hurting, but he hadn’t felt the need to share that with the boy, not when Dan’s nerves were like shredded Kleenex. The last thing he felt like dealing with now was an emotional meltdown from a stranger.

He started at the top and worked his way down, cataloguing the damage. His head was okay; he hadn’t bumped it. Neck and shoulders were stiff, though. His ribs… he took a deep, slow breath and winced. Cracked one or two, by the feel of it, and his ass was going to be bruised.

It could’ve been worse; the way he’d fallen, with the control and grace of a sack of potatoes, he was lucky it wasn’t much worse. He’d been distracted; the sudden pain from the glass slicing his skin, and the way Dan was staring at him, curious and hungry, a mix of bold and timid…

It hadn’t taken long for Dan to show an interest, but as far as Tyler was concerned, the boy was off-limits. Abused, skinny, twitchy… Dan was damaged, and Tyler wasn’t interested in being added to the list of men who’d inflicted that hurt.

And for all that Dan had been eyeing him speculatively — and, yeah, he’d stretched and flexed just to see what would happen — Tyler wasn’t even sure Dan leaned that way when it wasn’t necessary. He’d learned early on that when it came to sex, fear could be enough of an aphrodisiac to let a man perform or endure.

He stared at the cabin. How long did it take to find some keys? If Dan had gone snooping… There was nothing in plain view in his bedroom, with the exception of the computer, but, hell, everyone had one of those. His had once been top of the line, but two years had changed that, so it wouldn’t raise eyebrows now — and most of the upgrades were buried deep, where you’d need more computer savvy than Dan probably had to find them.

Tyler still didn’t want Dan to start wondering just how he’d spent the time that Dan was asleep and get to thinking that it’d including tracking him just to make sure he was what he seemed to be.

“Got them,” Dan called out as he appeared in the doorway. He held the keys up as proof and then locked the door and walked over to Tyler, the keys jangling in his hand. Tyler, who had been taught how to hold a bunch of keys so that they made no noise at all, winced out of habit and then gave him a nod. He began to get up, the ice bag clutched in his hand.

“Hey!” Dan closed the gap between them with a few long strides. “Lean on me, before you fall over or something.”

“I’m not in the habit of falling over when I’m stone cold sober.”

“You’re probably not in the habit of hopping a long way, either,” Dan retorted, and slid his arm around Tyler’s waist.

Tyler counted silently to three and then, when Dan showed no sign of taking the hint, grudgingly draped his arm across Dan’s shoulders. “This way.”

“Yeah, I saw the truck from the roof.” Dan didn’t seem to be having much problem supporting part of Tyler’s weight, so Tyler leaned on him a little more.

Hop. Hop. Each one sent a shock of pain through him. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on not curling his fingers reflexively into Dan’s shoulder.

“Nearly there.”

“I can do without the running commentary.” Speaking had been a bad idea; Tyler could hear the way his words were squeezed out like toothpaste, and from the sidelong glance Dan gave him, so could the kid.

“Want to wait here and I’ll drive the truck closer?”

“No.” The ground here was level and firm under the covering of grass and wild flowers he never bothered to mow, and Dan could have easily driven the truck across it, but he was damned if he was going to give in to injuries this minor. He’d once made his way across a mountain range in sub-zero temperatures after a parachute jump had gone badly, suffering from a concussion and a broken arm, and with his supplies scattered over a square mile of rock and snow. And he’d
still
gotten to the rendezvous on time.

“I knew a mule once with your face,” Dan said under his breath.

“Funny, boy. Real funny.”

If he hadn’t needed his arm right where it was, he’d have popped the kid one right across the ass for that.

They got to his truck, and he leaned against the blister-raising metal of the hood while Dan unlocked the doors. The pickup truck was deceptively battered, and its twin could’ve been found on most of the farms around, but like his computer, it held a few surprises for anyone looking closely. Like a souped-up engine, a few hidden compartments, and one hell of a security system. Tyler didn’t use it often, but he made sure the gas tank was full and turned it over a few times a week. Sometimes, he took it out, tires squealing and drove, just drove, endless miles of road disappearing under his wheels, risking a ticket because it wasn’t enough to just drive; he had to feel like he was
moving
, until, hours later, he reached the foothills of the mountains or the distant blue sparkle of the ocean.

Once he’d run out of road, he hiked or camped out for a few days before he turned around and went home at a sedate, safe fifty, itch scratched.

That was something he wouldn’t be doing for a while with his ankle swollen and weak, and he’d been planning to soon, turning the idea over in his head that this time he’d pack up all he owned and never come back, all the while knowing that when the moment came he’d leave like the devil was chasing him, taking nothing but what he stood up in and a belly full of roiling, restless boredom.

Dan started the engine and then looked around. “Uh, where’s the road?”

Tyler grinned at that and pointed. “There.”

“That?” Dan’s voice went bat-squeak high. “That’s a dried-up riverbed.”

“That’s my driveway,” Tyler corrected. He pushed the seat back as far as it would go and bent to put the ice pack on his ankle again. “It gets easier farther down, and it’s not too far to the road. Just take it steady; she can take it.”

“It’ll bounce you around,” Dan warned.

“I can take it, too.”

Dan started the truck moving and then hit the brakes. “Your boot? Want me to go and get it?”

“Damn it, boy, don’t do that.” Tyler breathed through the pain of knocking his injured ankle against the side of the foot well and replaced the ice pack that had slid off. “I’ll be strapped up, remember?”

“Won’t you need a hospital to take X-rays in case it is broken?” Dan was driving like an old lady. A blind old lady. At this rate, his ankle would be swollen to three times its size by the time he got it treated. He toyed with the idea of driving himself. It wasn’t as if he used his left foot…

Dan picked up speed, and Tyler swallowed what would have been an order to stop and change places. Okay. Maybe only twice its size. “There isn’t one for miles. The people around here make do with the clinic. It’s small, but it’s got an X-ray and an ultrasound and an operating theater.”

“That’s more than the clinic in my town had.”

“Yeah, well, maybe your town didn’t save the life of a millionaire’s daughter twenty years ago.”

“Really?” Dan sounded skeptical, as if he suspected he was being fooled.

Talking took his mind off his ankle and the hot throb of his hand, so Tyler continued with the anecdote. “Yeah. She went into labor early, and the doc before this one delivered her babies — twins, a boy and a girl, right there in her summer cottage. There were complications, but don’t ask me the details; that’s the point I stopped listening when Doctor Collins told me the story.”

“I hear you,” Dan said. “My cousin had a baby and told us all about it at Thanksgiving dinner. I came close to throwing up at the table.” He turned his head. “What happened?”

“Watch the road!”

“You mean the trees?” Dan chuckled, low and impish. “The road’s not the problem. Can’t hit that.”

Tyler smacked his arm. Hard. “Yeah? Well, I can hit you, and if you crash my truck, I’ll put a dent in you the size of my fist.”

Dan looked unimpressed. “Whatever, man.”

Okay, when had he stopped being scary? “Look,” he tried again. “One of us hurt is enough; just… just be careful.”

“I’ve been driving my daddy’s truck since I was fourteen, and I’ve never put so much as a scratch on her.” The truck hit a rut in the road and bounced sideways. The branches of a bush dragged across the driver’s side door, and Tyler closed his eyes. “’Course, I wasn’t driving through the freaking woods. Would it kill you to make a proper lane here?”

Boy, you have no idea.

“Driveways cost money and besides, I like my privacy.”

“Found
that
out the hard way.”

Tyler felt compelled to state, “I wouldn’t have shot you,” though he was beginning to think if Dan stuck around for much longer, that was where they were heading.

Dan smiled at him. “I know. So, are you going to finish the story?”

“What story? Oh… nothing more to it. The old man was grateful and sprinkled some gold dust on the town. Left the council a nice chunk when he died, too. That put an extension on the library.”

“Cool.”

Tyler shrugged, abruptly bored of the subject, and pointedly turned his head to stare out of the open window at the press of green that gave him privacy but also made such excellent cover. As he always did, he told himself that if they knew where he was and saw him as a risk, he’d have been dead months ago.

The truck reached the end of the track and without asking, Dan turned left, his breath whooshing out in an audible hiss of relief as the tires rolled over a relatively smooth road.

They drove to town in silence, something Tyler should have been grateful for, but which left him uneasy. Dan struck him as the type who chattered, and when that sort went quiet and thoughtful it generally didn’t bode well. He gave Dan terse directions to the clinic and let himself relax when the truck was placed neatly between the painted white lines of the parking place closest to the door.

Dan took out the keys and handed them over without being asked. “Want me to help you inside?”

Tyler shook his head. “No, I can manage. Thanks.”

Dan was fiddling with that damn hole in his jeans again. “How’re you going to get back?”

He’d been wondering that himself. “I’ll figure it out. Right now, I just want to get fixed up, okay?”

“Sure.” Dan slid out of the truck without a backward glance. “Tell her to get the stick out of your ass while she’s at it.”

He let Dan get a few yards away before calling out to him to stop. Tyler told himself it was because the boy still needed a bath and a few more meals in his belly before he set off again, even told himself that it made sense to let Dan drive him home, but they weren’t the real reasons.

No. He wanted the doc to fix him up with a cane or something, and then he was going to balance on his hurt foot and use the other to deliver a swift, hard kick to Dan’s backside.

Dan kept on walking and made Tyler call out his name again.
Two
kicks.

“Changed your mind?”

“Yeah. Help me in, and then if you don’t mind waiting, you can run me home. I’ll pay you in soup.”

Dan grinned. “Make it a steak and you’ve got a deal.”

The waiting room wasn’t full; a mother was jiggling her baby in an attempt to stop him wailing, and an elderly man, bent over and withdrawn into himself, was sitting silently in a corner.

The receptionist glanced up as they walked in side by side. “Mr. Edwards! Oh, dear, oh, dear, what happened?”

She bustled out to meet them, her gaze flicking over Dan curiously.

“Sprained ankle.” Tyler made an effort to be sociable and smiled at her. “Fell off a roof, Miss Betty. They put those things too high off the ground.”

Betty Sanders was too much of a gossip for him to want to give her any more than that to work on. She was more than a few years older than he was; he suspected she’d turned forty but wasn’t prepared to admit to it. Her hair got a little brighter every time he saw her, the original strawberry blonde now closer to mahogany. Plump, pretty, with a poisonous tongue.

She giggled at his weak joke and patted his arm. “I’ll make sure the doctor sees you as soon as she’s finished with Mira. It shouldn’t be long.”

Tyler shook his head and indicated the people waiting. “I’ll wait my turn.”

“Nonsense!”

The old man didn’t look up, but the mother did, a spark of indignation showing. “I’ve got an appointment,” she said, her voice a tired whine.

“Oh, hush now, Lisa,” Betty snapped. “The man’s in pain. And I can tell you now that the only way to make your baby stop crying is to feed him, so I hope you brought a bottle, because he’s giving me a headache.”

Lisa gave her a hostile stare and calmly pulled her T-shirt up to reveal ample breasts in a hot-pink, lacy bra. “Got his bottle right here, Miss Betty.”

Betty’s cheeks flamed as pink as Lisa’s underwear. She turned her back and gave Tyler a determinedly pleasant smile. “If this young man would care to make himself useful, there’s a wheelchair in the corner.”

“I don’t need —” Tyler sighed as Dan left him wobbling on one foot and grabbed at a nearby chair for support. “Thanks,” he said shortly when Dan came back. He sank into the wheelchair and felt like an idiot.

Betty went back behind the desk, and the room settled down into the church-like silence of any waiting room. The baby was suckling happily now, Lisa’s face soft as she stared down at him, and the old man was tapping his foot on the ground, his mouth moving soundlessly. Tyler blinked as he saw the iPod in the man’s hand and then grinned.

Dan cleared his throat. “Think I’ll wait outside. Doctors freak me out.”

Tyler considered that and decided that as Betty would pounce on Dan as soon as he was left alone and start asking questions, it wasn’t a bad idea. He dug out his wallet and pulled out three twenties. “Here.”

Daniel stared at the money without accepting it. “What’s that for?”

Tyler could feel Betty’s eyes on them. “There’s a clothing store a block away and a drugstore across the street. Get yourself some stuff. Then meet me by the truck. If I come out and you’re not there, I’ll make my own way home.”

“You won’t hunt me down and get your money back?”

Tyler snorted. “I don’t hunt anyone down for a lousy sixty bucks, boy.” No, it’d never been about the money. “You want to keep on going once you’ve gotten yourself a change of clothes, you go right ahead. Don’t bother looking over your shoulder, because I won’t be following you.”