Double Indemnity (29 page)

“Please. Please. Please,” Sam said, louder and louder as Nathan started to fuck him again.

“Good boy.” Nathan kissed the back of his neck, and then he started jerking Sam's dick in time with his thrusts. By then, Sam was so close it didn't take more than a few strokes. He shot his load as Nathan continued to fuck him, slamming his hips once, twice more, and then losing rhythm, pulsing deep inside of Sam.

They both collapsed, exhausted. Sam's eyes filled with tears. He blinked them away, not wanting Nathan to see and misinterpret. Nathan held him while their breathing returned to normal.

After some time, the bed shifted as Nathan got up to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he looked troubled. “Why did you ask me to hold your wrists?”

“I dunno.” Sam looked at his bandages, which were probably unnecessary by then. “It seemed like fun?”

“Is it because you thought I would like it? Because of what I told you about the club?”

Sam shrugged.

“I'm not a sadist. I don't get off on hurting people.”

“I know you don't.”

“Do you?”

Still, Nathan hadn't ever been specific about what exactly had gotten him off, had he? Sam knew he was into teasing and control. Maybe from there, he'd jumped to certain conclusions. “I wanted it, okay? I wanted it, because the thought of you being in control turns me on.” Sam's face flamed at the confession. “I didn't even think about my wrists being hurt, honestly. You say you're not a sadist. Well, I'm not a masochist. Much.” But obviously what Sam had taken as a moment of play, Nathan had read differently. Sam would have to be more aware of what he asked for in the future. He ran his hand down Nathan's chest. “I should have realized, though. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Nathan said finally, in an unconvincing way.

Sam turned away to search for his boxers.

“I think we need to talk, Sam.”

“Do we? It seems like all we do is talk.”

“I mean about us.”

The rawness in Nathan's voice opened up a pit of nerves in Sam's stomach. He wasn't sure he liked where this was headed.

“I have to leave on a new case in a few days.”

Yep. He definitely didn't like where this was headed. “How long will you be gone?”

“Not sure. Could be a month or two, maybe more.”

“Ah.” A frog lodged in Sam's throat. “What about the trial?”

“They're not going to need my live testimony.”

Sam swallowed. The frog got bigger. “All right. Well, have a nice trip.” He mustered a smile but couldn't quite meet Nathan's eyes. He'd known all along this wouldn't last. His mental walls, lost during the sex, started to reassemble themselves to prevent any more damage. They'd need to be even taller this time.

“Say something,” Nathan said.

“What do you want me to say? That you can't go? It's your job. Whatever this is,” he gestured between them. “It was temporary. And maybe it shouldn't have happened in the first place.”

“I'd be gone already if I thought you believed that was true.” Nathan touched Sam's shoulder.

“What are you getting at?” Sam wanted to pull away, but he couldn't resist the comforting pressure of Nathan's hand. Over the last few days, it had become something precious.

“These past months have been the hardest of my life. I don't think I would have gotten through them if not for you.” Ah, so he was grateful and he felt obliged. Perfect.

“Listen, you don't owe me anything—” He started to shrug Nathan off.

“I do, but that's not what this is about. I have feelings for you, Sam, but I need time to figure out what that means. I still—Part of me still loves Emma. I'm not over it, and how fair is that to you?”

“I'm not trying to substitute for your wife.” But when he thought back over the past few days, all of Nathan's solicitousness—how much of it had been for Sam and how much of it for the wife Nathan had wronged and lost?

“I know. But these feelings…. How well do we really know each other? We were thrown together under extraordinary circumstances. The worst thing we could do would be to plunge right into something without sorting ourselves out first. That is, if you feel something for me.”

Nathan looked suddenly vulnerable, naked, and in need of care. Sam wished he could be the one to draw him out of his darkness. But he also knew he couldn't. “I do have feelings for you, but you're right, we don't know each other well.”

“You're not angry?”

Sam shook his head. “I had no idea you were allergic to strawberries. God, we could be back at the hospital right now.” They both laughed, appreciating the momentary release of tension. It didn't last long.

“So, what I'm proposing is a short hiatus, while I'm away. No strings attached, no expectations.” Nathan reached out and gently touched Sam's face, under his swollen eye. Always assessing for damage.

Sam understood what that meant. He would be free, and so would Nathan. Free to do whatever—or whomever—they wanted. While part of him hated the idea, he knew why it had to be that way. He nodded. “Okay.” He kissed Nathan again, slowly.

“When I come back, I'll give you a call.”

“Fuck you. When you get back, I'll return the favor.”

“Is that a promise?” Nathan's eyes glittered.

“Yes.”

“I have a feeling I'm going to miss you.”

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “I'm going to miss you too.”

 

S
AM
STARED
at Lisa. She grinned back—an ear-to-ear smile. Her nurse's scrubs were covered with bipedal orange and black cats wearing top hats, and for a moment Sam wondered if he was dreaming.

“What do you mean, the bill has been paid?” Sam asked.

“I mean your brother is all set. His hospital bill has been paid indefinitely. He'll stay here at Shady Brook for as long as you want him here.”

It was the week after New Year's. Sam had taken the day off to make sure he'd be there when they moved Tim from Shady Brook to the state facility. But now Lisa said the transfer had been canceled.

“I don't understand.”

“Sometimes there's nothing to understand.” Lisa patted one of his hands. “Sometimes, it's best just to accept kindness.”

“But whose?” Lord knew his grandparents would have already paid if they could afford it. Yuri and Rachel got by, but they didn't make any more money than Sam. And he'd certainly heard enough from the insurance company not to be under any illusion that they'd forgiven the debt.

Lisa's smile spoke volumes. “I'm sorry, sweetie, but I'm not able to disclose that information. Confidentiality reasons.”

That left no doubt. Only one other person fit the bill, possessing both the money and the cause. Nathan had left town two weeks before. They hadn't communicated since then, and they didn't plan on it until his return, whenever that would be—a month, two months, even three or four. He'd never given the slightest hint he might have been planning something so ridiculous… and incredibly generous.

Sam didn't know what to say. “It was Nathan Walker, wasn't it?”

She shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Oh you. You're in on it.”

“A lady never tells.”

Sam could have kissed her. He definitely would have kissed Nathan. Even though he knew he shouldn't accept the gift and risk being forever indebted, he couldn't refuse it.

“Why don't you go down and tell Tim the good news?”

The staff had decorated Tim's room for the holidays. A wreath with fake shellacked apples and pinecones hung on the door. Inside, a tiny plastic tree covered with miniature lights graced the table that separated Tim's bed from Helen's… or what had been Helen's, but now waited vacantly for a new patient.

The week before, Helen had woken up.

Sam hadn't been there, but two days later when he came to see Tim, Helen's family had been packing up her things. At first, Sam had feared the worst, but her son had quickly explained what had happened. His mother had moved her right arm, and then made a sound that sounded like his name. Paul.

Now they'd transferred her to another wing of the clinic to start intensive therapy, hoping to stabilize her enough to bring her home within the month. There was a long road to recovery ahead, but Paul was confident his mother would pull through.

Sam had promised to come by and say “hi,” but he hadn't gotten up the nerve yet. Maybe soon. Anyway he was happy for Paul and his family, though he wondered how long it would take Tim to get a new roommate and whether he'd be lonely in the meantime.

“Looks like you're staying put after all, bud,” Sam said as he sat down. The lights on the tree twinkled. For six years they blinked at him. Six years. “I think Nathan paid your bill. I can't believe it.”

Tim stared at the ceiling, but Sam imagined him smiling. His blue, blue eyes seemed clear and trouble-free.

Blue as the sky.

 

 

L
ATER
IN
the day, Sam met up with his friends at the Star. Yuri and Michael had become one entity. They practically clung to each other like little gay koalas on one side of the table, leaving the other side to Alex and Sam. Rachel was finishing her shift at the bar.

“Muriel is definitely your couple name.” Sam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, pleased.

“Muriel?” Yuri wrinkled his nose.

“It suits you. And it's a real name. I'm a genius.”

Alex nodded in agreement. “It's so cute.”

“Thanks for backing me up, Alex,” Sam said.

“So what are we, then?” Rachel asked as she joined them at the table and slung her arm around her girlfriend.

Sam gave a thoughtful hum. “Unfortunately for you, Ralex is the only thing that makes any sense.”

“Sounds like a planet on
Star Trek
,” Michael added. This apparently was not a bad thing. It had recently been brought to the group's attention that Michael was a huge Trekkie—mainly because he said nerdy things about
Star Trek
all the time.

“What about you and Nathan?” Yuri raised his eyebrows. “You're so intent on giving us all stupid couple names.”

“There is no me and Nathan.”

“That's not what it seems like to me.” Rachel punched his arm. “He paid Tim's hospital bills. I mean, who even does that?”

“I think it's romantic,” Alex added.

Yuri smiled wryly. “Sneaky and maybe a little weird, but romantic.”

The topic of conversation quickly shifted to the night's plans. Sam listened as his friends tried to agree on a movie, a subject that inspired a lot of strong feelings from resident amateur film critics Rachel and Michael.

He sipped his soda and eyed the rest of their beers enviously. Recently, Sam had made a pact with himself to cut out drinking and
maybe do some serious writing on his blog again. A New Year's
resolution, though Sam didn't believe in those. If, when Nathan came back, they decided to start something, Sam wanted to be in a better place than he'd been. That was all. He took it one day at a time. And he tried not to miss Nathan too much.

It didn't work.

The trial had sped forward and was due to begin the following month. At first, it had seemed like Sheldon might reach a plea bargain and agree to sentencing, but his lawyers must have advised him otherwise. Already a story had begun to take shape in Sam's mind, a story of greed and loss and justice—maybe. With such compelling evidence, Sam couldn't imagine any jury letting Hoff or Sheldon off the hook, but it wouldn't be over until it was over.

Sam had tried to talk to Sheldon the previous week but had been turned away. He'd left the county jail—where Sheldon was being held without bail until the trial started—feeling a mixture of anger, disappointment, and relief.

He might never get the chance to ask Sheldon why he'd chosen money over honor and friendship. But maybe that was okay. Because sometimes greed was just greed, and evil was just evil, and no reason or rationalization could bring back the dead.

“Okay, Sam.” Michael's voice interrupted Sam's thoughts. “It's between
Gravity
in 3-D.”

Rachel cheered dramatically. She thought Sandra Bullock was hot. “I need to see it before it leaves the theater. Come on, Sam. You're my man.”

Michael cleared his throat and continued. “Or, we can go back to my very cozy, comfortable house and watch
Star Trek Into Darkness
. Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine wearing skintight wetsuits, 'nuff said.”

Rachel and Alex both made vomiting sounds.

Sam stared at the faces around the table. He was the fifth wheel, as always, and thus the deciding vote. The last thing he wanted was to spend a Saturday night cuddling on the couch with two couples, though. “Sorry, Mike. I'm going to have to go with
Gravity
.” An eruption of victorious cheers to his left and heavy sighs and forlorn gazes from across the table. Sam smiled. His friends had been doing a good job of distracting him these past couple of weeks.