Restoration 01 - Getting It Right (10 page)

A sense that the threat had been eliminated.

They made small talk for a while. James didn’t take much notice of the staff members coming and going, and the occupancy of the waiting room increased the closer to visiting hours it became. A few minutes before three, the pair of detectives exited the ICU, their expressions grim.

James jerked to attention, alarmed by the way both men were carefully guarding

themselves. “Is Nate okay?”

“He’s resting,” Carey said. He angled to include Elliott and the Wolfs. “He remembered a lot, more than I expected, so we need to make some reports.”

“Can you tell us anything?” Cathy asked.

“Not at the moment, ma’am, but Nathan is free to tell you what he likes. James, a word?”

He didn’t like the heavy tone, but he followed Carey to the other side of the waiting room. “What is it?”

Carey looked as if he’d rather chew nails than say what was on his mind. “I really hate being the one to tell you this, but Nathan doesn’t want to see you today.”

James blinked, not understanding. A chill settled in his bones as the words slowly sank into his brain. “What does that mean?”

“Look, I can’t pretend to know what’s in his head, because I don’t. All I know is he’s upset and hurt, and he wrote down in big letters that he didn’t want to see you. I’m passing on the message.”

“But why?” It made no sense. Nathan was in pain, and James wanted to help. He would be there during Nathan’s recovery, anything he needed, period. Nathan had to know that, so why was he pushing James away? Because of the rooftop confession? Sure, it had been an uncomfortable moment for them both, but this?

“It’s what he wants, Doc,” Carey said. “He’ll probably change his mind tomorrow after everything’s not so fresh, but for today he doesn’t want you in there. The nurses know, so don’t try a fast one.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” As badly as he wanted to see Nathan with his own two eyes, going against Nathan’s wishes would only upset him. His entire body ached from the forced separation from the one person he wanted to see more than anything else. He pushed the awful words out of his mouth. “I won’t go in.”

“I’m real sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Parsons must have said as much to the others because the confused sympathy radiating off Elliott was almost painful. Cathy looked ready to burst into tears again. She came over and hugged him tight, in the full-bodied way that only a mother could.

“Tell him I love him,” James whispered. “Call me if anything changes.”

“I will, sweetheart. I’m sure he’ll change his mind.”

He considered waiting until visiting time ended, so he could grill the Wolfs about Nathan, but he didn’t want to make this harder on them. Being with their only child while he was in a hospital bed, bandaged and hurt, had to be ripping their hearts to pieces. They wouldn’t want to relive it in order to assuage his curiosity, and he wouldn’t cause them more pain.

So he left.

Elliott commandeered his keys, and James didn’t have the sense to protest someone else driving his beloved vehicle. He stared out the passenger window, barely seeing the city go by.

He’d left behind a piece of his heart, and he wasn’t whole without it.

How did I screw this up so badly?

Elliott got the word around to his friends, and by bedtime Sunday night, James had had visits or phone calls from their entire social circle. They pulled together in the midst of tragedy. First Doug, and now Nathan, and James never felt alone, even when his apartment was empty. They did his dishes, took out the trash, and stocked his refrigerator and freezer—and he had a funny feeling they’d just done the same thing for Elliott.

Boxer and Elliott stayed the longest, feeding him an overload of carbs in the form of veggie pizza and breadsticks from his favorite delivery place and helping him through a six-pack of lager. He shooed them out around eleven because he couldn’t take the company any longer.

He only felt truly alone when he let himself remember Cathy’s eight o’clock phone call, in which she informed him that Nathan still didn’t want him to visit. That small punch to the nuts had hurt enough. Then she lobbed the grenade that shattered his life.

“His ribs are going to take a long time to heal,” she said, voice strained. “He needs to be immobile for a while, so he can rest. Be tended to.”

James had wanted to insist he’d take care of Nathan, that he’d hire a private nurse for when he had to be in the office, but he saw the explosion long before the shock wave knocked him on his ass.

“Nathan agreed to come home with his father and me. We’ll get him back on his feet.”

“In Oak Orchard?” Almost two hours away.

“Yes. He needs time, James. I think, too, he needs some space from this place.”

And from me. Fuck.

“I understand.”

No, I don’t. I don’t understand why he’s pulling away so hard. He’s never put this kind of
distance between us.

“When?” he asked.

“A few days. Hopefully he’ll change his mind about seeing you before we go. I’m sure it would do him good, and I don’t understand why he’s so resistant to the idea. You two have always been so close.”

“I wish I knew. The second he wants me, I’m there. Please tell him that.”

“I will. Good night, James.”

As he lay in bed that night, staring at a shadowed ceiling, sleep evaded him. His life had been completely upended, and he was still trying to make sense of the wreckage. The man who’d destroyed his sister was out of prison. One of his recently deceased friends had been a lying cheater. And now Nathan had shut him out of the most traumatic moment of their friendship, and that hurt. It also scared him on a deeper level. A level that worked with trauma victims on a regular basis, and he was terrified for Nathan’s recovery.

He hadn’t thought to ask if Nathan’s cell phone still worked, or if it had been damaged during the attack. James snatched his own phone off his nightstand and scrolled through their last few texted conversations. The missing piece of his heart seemed to grow larger, more painful.

He thought long and hard before he typed.

Please don’t shut me out. Please, Nate.

Send. A second thought, a second message.

You’re everything.

Nathan never responded to the text. He went home to Oak Orchard the same day as Doug’s funeral.

James spent the day mourning two men and doing his best to comfort Elliott.

He spent the next few weeks simply getting through his days. Alone. Uncertain.

And as spring turned into summer, and then summer inched closer to autumn, fear became anger. Anger morphed into need.

Need always won out over common sense—and that was the only explanation he had for sleeping with Elliott.

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

10 April

N—

You didn’t want to see me and you won’t take my calls or answer my texts, so I figured email was my last real option. I hope you at least read this all the way through before you delete it, because I need you to know I’m not giving up. You’ve been my brother and my best friend for almost half my life, and I’m not letting that go because of what happened on Saturday. I’m sorry for how things went down on the parking garage roof, and I’m sorry that the last thing I said to you was a lie. I hope you’ll break this no-contact rule and let me tell you all about it, because I’ve been aching to set it right since you walked away from me.

I miss you. Elliott and Boxer and Tori have been great, but they aren’t you. And Elliott…well, he’s coping. Doug’s funeral was today. The same day you went home with your parents, and that’s partly why I’m writing. I wanted to tell you about the funeral. It was short but very lovely. Doug’s parents both spoke and said such nice things. Several times I wanted to stand up and demand to know if Doug’s lover was in the room, but your voice in my head kept telling me not to make a scene. It was hard, though. Elliott’s still all mixed up about the whole thing.

Guilt is a powerful emotion.

The other reason I’m writing is to remind you I’m here. I’ll keep writing, too, every single day, until you’re ready to speak to me. I know you were hurt very badly, and I can’t imagine what you must think of what happened. I want to kill the bastard who hurt you. And I promise not to get all, as you say, headshrinky about the incident if you do call. Or write back. I don’t want to analyze you, Nate, I want to help you.

Please don’t keep shutting me out. Please.

Best J

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

13 April

N—

After my appointments today I stopped by to check on Elliott. He’d put all of Doug’s clothes into a couple of garbage bags, and he was in the midst of tearing them into long strips while watching DVRed episodes of
General Hospital
. I’m not sure what he’s going to do with all the rags, and he won’t tell me.

Best J

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

16 April

N—

Ell has started braiding the rags into one long rope of clothes. Further deets to come, but I suspect some sort of area rug is in the works…

Best J

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

20 April

N—

Sorry I’m sending this at almost three in the morning (which is silly since you probably won’t read this until well after dawn). I can’t sleep. I had the most bizarre night. Met Boxer and Louis at Pot O Gold for drinks and dancing. I think they wanted to cheer me up. You remember how I got a few years ago when I was down with pneumonia for almost a month? The grumpy, growly, bite-your-hand-off attitude? Pretty sure that’s been me these last two weeks. I keep that out of these emails because I don’t want to take my bad moods out on you. I’m dealing with your silence the best way I can that doesn’t involve excessive drinking.

Take a moment and absorb that. I’m trying not to drink too much. Don’t take that to mean this whole silence and separation is a good thing. But I guess I can try to see a positive.

Anyway, back to the Pot. Remember Ezra? The night I found out about Price and almost did something stupid? It was with him. I saw him at the Pot tonight. He was totally shit-faced and being led off by someone trying to get him to do poppers just to fuck with him, and I stepped in. Don’t think I was playing the hero. It was more like paying what I owed. Apparently Ezra’s hung up on a bartender named Donner, and it’s complicated (when isn’t it?), but I took Ezra outside to sober up and made him call Donner to pick him up. I don’t know the whole story there, and it’s not like I’m friends with either of them, but I think I did a good thing. Maybe they’ll work it out.

That’s probably why I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of you. Wondering what you’re doing?

How you’re feeling? What you’re thinking? Hoping I get another chance to make things right.

I’m sorry there’s been no progress in your case. Your mom called earlier today and told me. She says you’ve scheduled an appointment with a plastic surgeon. Please tell me if you need anything. Anything.

Best J

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

5 May

N—

Today was another grueling session with one of my patients. I thought we’d had a breakthrough a few weeks ago, but now I’m not so sure. He’s so stubborn, which helped him survive a lot of crap, but now I think it’s hindering his recovery. I really want to help this kid.

I thought you might also like to know that Ell finally got tested. He’s clean. Thank God.

He doesn’t need any more heartache from Doug. I think maybe he can finally start moving on now. I hope he can.

Best J

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

15 May

N—

Are you getting these? Do they go straight into your spam folder? Am I filling my sent folder with a lot of nonsense?

Doesn’t matter. I promised I’d write every day, and I’m going to. Miss you.

Best J

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

2 June

N—

Went out to the Rusty Nail last night for a distraction from my life. Going out lately has been more for socializing than actually picking up a trick. Am I getting pickier in my old age?

No one really appeals to me, and that is weird, right? Maybe what happened with Elliott and Doug changed the way I see things. That life is more than work and casual sex, and maybe I want to find someone I can have more with. Someone who understands me. Someone who doesn’t take shit from me. Someone who knows all my secrets and loves me anyway. Some people find that in a bar. Most people don’t.

Anyway, Rusty Nail. Typical night, right? Until I run into David Q., a guy I know from the community. Nice guy. Not a brainy type, but he isn’t a meathead either. He starts gossiping about this kid he knew named Romy, who he’d fucked a few times last fall, and how this kid had fallen off the scene for a while. Says he got in deep with some asshole named Carlos, and some of Romy’s friends broke it off between them and now Carlos is pissed. Then he says there are other rumors that Carlos was beating Romy up, but no one knew for sure.

And then it struck me right in the gut, Nate. I knew Romy too. Nice kid. Young, early twenties. We hooked up last year. I’d seen him around the Pot a few times after, but not in a while. Apparently he’s with friends now, but when I realized I knew this guy David was talking about, it slapped me in the face. Hard. I hope his friends help him out.

The point of the story? Last night David was leaving the Rusty Nail and saw Carlos getting the shit beat out of him by a big black guy no one knew. Karma, right?

Miss you, Nate.

Best, J

From: Taggert, James

To: Wolf, Nate

20 June

N—

It’s hot as donkey balls around here already, which means we’re in for a scorching summer. Remember the summer in college we spent two weeks at your parents’ house with plans to drive to the beach every day, only we ended up in the middle of a heat wave? We managed two whole hours before you nearly passed out from the heat, and then we spent the rest of the vacation holed up indoors with air-conditioning, playing board games. I miss that. I miss you always beating me at Clue.