Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“I’m not afraid of anything.” Mark shuffled his feet even as he crossed his arms in front of him, like he was walling himself off that much further from Isaiah.
“Liar. You’re terrified of committing to a relationship for reasons I just don’t understand. I’m good enough to watch the kids but not good enough for you?”
“You don’t really want a relationship.” Mark looked at the ceiling. “You’d get tired of—”
“There you go again. Making decisions for me. Well, you know what? You’re right. I’m tired of this. Tired of your excuses. Tired of your protector crap. Tired period.” He backed down the hall, leaving Mark there, still not meeting Isaiah’s eyes. “Peace out. I’m done with this BS.”
Right as he reached the stairs, Mark’s voice called out, “Will you still—”
“Do you have to even ask? Yes, I’ve got the kids this week. Don’t worry.” And then because despite everything, Isaiah did care, he added, “And for the love of God, please don’t go getting yourself killed on duty. We’ll let the lawyers settle this for us.”
Part of him wanted Mark to protest, wanted Mark to say anything other than the weary “Okay” that slipped from his lips.
Fuck. Couldn’t Mark fight for them? Even just a little? Was that asking too much? Apparently. Isaiah fled upstairs before Mark could see his face, see how deeply hurt he was. Hell and damn. He felt speared clean through. He’d known Mark would break his heart. Known it ever since that first kiss. Since that dance, really, if he were honest. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt this bad, to feel like he’d lost his whole right side. He flopped onto his bed. Never. Never again was he opening himself up to this kind of hurt. Mark wasn’t worth it. No one was.
* * *
The hospital was eerily quiet in the wee hours of the morning. Visiting time wouldn’t be for hours yet, but Mark wasn’t above using his clearance to circumvent that. He wasn’t sure what had driven him to check in with how Swenson was doing before heading to base. Maybe because he couldn’t sleep. He’d gotten too used to having Isaiah next to him. Too used to his scent and warmth and welcoming arms. Collateral damage. Don’t focus on what you lost, think about what you’re saving.
But he wasn’t sure he believed his own lectures anymore, tossing and turning all night, racked by guilt. God, the look on Isaiah’s face as he’d headed to the stairs. Disappointment. Disgust. Anger. It had all been there, vivid on his expressive face, begging Mark to say something, do something. But he hadn’t. Couldn’t. So yeah, he’d needed an excuse to be up this early.
“He’s doing remarkably well, all things considered,” the nurse on duty told Mark about Swenson. She was a long-time medical center employee, and Mark recognized her from other cases over the years. “He should be discharged in the next few days, then start rehab. He’s still having some neurological issues, but they’ll work on those in therapy. He’s lucky it’s not worse—I’ve seen guys in similar situations never come out of the coma.”
“Yeah.” Mark didn’t like thinking about how close they’d come to losing him.
“You want to poke your head in? He woke up with the last vitals check and hasn’t been able to drift back to sleep. I put on some quiet TV for him, but I bet he’d be happier to see you.”
“Sure.” Mark was here after all. He supposed he could say hello, even if he wasn’t sure what else to say, still wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. He followed the nurse to a room at the end of the floor.
Swenson didn’t have a roommate, so Mark bypassed the empty bed nearest the door, heading to the cubicle where a very pale, very young looking Swenson was watching some cooking competition show on the TV. He looked smaller in the bed, more vulnerable than he had at training, and Mark was hit with fresh guilt at not being able to stop the accident.
“Chief.” Swenson struggled to sit up.
“Easy there.” Mark put a hand on his shoulder, then helped him adjust the bed so he could see Mark and the TV better. “I hear you’re terrorizing the nurses. Refusing to sleep.”
“Can’t. They’re in and out all d—dang night. Guy can’t get more than an hour or two of rest before they’re back.”
“Well, I hear they’re looking to discharge you soon. You’ll get more rest on the rehab floor.”
“I get to go home for rehab.” Swenson offered a shy smile. “My parents drove over from Tucson because I can’t fly yet. We got permission for me to do my rehab back home so I can stay with them, not have to be in a hospital so long.”
“That’s great.” Mark forced the words out past his surprisingly tight throat. It was great that Swenson had a family who cared that much for him. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you back.”