Authors: A. E. Via
Pres couldn’t believe how nervous he was. He’d agreed to let Ric come over to his place to plead his case. Pres was by far still in love with Ric. He knew that for a fact when Ric sat down beside him and he got a whiff of that scent that went straight to his cock so fast, it made his head spin. Yes, he still had it bad.
However, Ric had still hurt him like crazy. At one point, Pres didn’t know how he would go on again. If it wasn’t for Blair, things probably would’ve turned out a lot worse for him. He remembered the countless midnight conversations he and Blair had had and went about putting his plan in motion.
Pres put the small hors d’oeuvre tray on the living room table and jogged back into the kitchen.
Damn it, he’ll be here any minute.
He scurried to put the crackers on the dish and accidently knocked over the jar of olives he was trying to arrange for his cheese crudité. He heard the loud shatter of glass and olives scattering everywhere across his hardwood floor.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Of all the damn tea in China. Fuck! I do this now!”
Pres had to get this mess up fast. He hated cleaning up spills, obviously. However, he didn’t want Ric to come in and see him scrubbing a floor, or be overwhelmed by the now-powerful scent of Calabrese olive juice everywhere.
Pres tried to be mindful of where he stepped. He was barefoot and didn’t want to try digging out a shard of glass from his foot, too. He tried to sidestep the spill altogether, but still ended up losing his footing on a patch of juice, making his legs fly up from under him. He fell back, and his eyes shot wide open at the horrific sting of the corner of his kitchen island coming into contact with the back of his skull.
Pres could hear a muffled dog bark sounding far off in the distance. There were various colors dancing around behind his eyelids. The pain was too much. Pres let the darkness surround him.
* * * *
Ric had just closed his condo door when he heard a dog barking frantically like he was trying to get out of a burning apartment. It was a big dog’s bark, not like the little Yorkiepoos everyone seemed to have on this floor.
Everyone except Pres. Shit!
Ric raced down to Pres’s door and banged hard on it. He tried the knob and was surprised but relieved to find it unlocked. Ric didn’t waste time on the hysterical retriever barking and whimpering at his heels.
“Pres!” he yelled, but got no answer. Ric ran into the kitchen, and his knees buckled at the sight—Pres unconscious on the floor, bleeding from the back of his head, and broken glass everywhere.
Although it was Pres, Ric went into trauma surgeon mode. He pulled out his cell and dialed 911 while trying to asses Pres without moving him, ultramindful of a possible neck injury as well. He rattled off the address, brief patient history, and seriousness of the injury to the operator and let the phone drop to the floor. He didn’t need her instructions. He knew what to do.
Damn it, Ric’s medical bag was in his apartment, and he’d be damned if he was leaving Pres’s side. Pres was still alive, he was breathing, but his pulse was weak, and all the color had drained from his beautiful face. He got all the way down and spoke directly into Pres’s ear. He’d have no choice but to wait for the paramedics. It wouldn’t be wise to move him to try to check the head wound. The blood that had pooled around Pres’s head was enough to scare the shit out of Ric, but he would be strong for Pres this time and not run.
“Hang in there, baby. They’re coming. I’m right here with you. Stay close to my voice, Pres. Stay focused on that. I’ll be by your side the entire time. You’re going to be okay. Oh God, please be okay.” Ric wept quietly.
He was coming over today to win his man’s heart back. He’d had a well-thought-out plan and everything. There was no way God could be this cruel. Hadn’t he suffered enough loss? Hadn’t Pres suffered enough for ten lifetimes?
Ric kept a firm hold on the pulse point on Pres’s wrist as he concentrated on the faint drum of his man’s lifeline. “We’re gonna make it through this together,” he whispered on the shell of Pres’s ear before kissing his cheek tenderly. “Me and you, baby, that’s how it’s going to be, forever. I’m not going to run ever again. No matter how scared I am…like right now.”
Ric squeezed his eyes. The endless forming of tears was clouding his vision. Pres’s pulse was weakening.
“Noooo,” Ric groaned. “Don’t you dare, Prescott. Fight, goddamn it. Do you hear me? Fuckin’ fight, baby… Fight for us.”
Ric whispered harshly now, desperation taking over. He stopped talking to concentrate on finding the pulse and this time felt a firmer beat underneath his fingertips, making him gasp at the realization. Pres was listening to him, and he was fighting.
“That’s it, Pres. Fight harder. Fight harder. Me and you. I love you, Pres, so fucking much. You can’t go until I’ve shown you how much you mean to me.” He kissed Pres’s cheek again, letting his tears slide down both of their faces.
Ric barely registered the firemen and paramedics bursting into the apartment or Josey going crazy at all the activity. He was focused on the firm pulse beating under his fingertips now.
“Sir, please let us help. Sir, let us get to him to help him.” A paramedic was yelling at Ric, but all he could do was feel, feel Pres’s pulse. A second later, several sets of arms were lifting him away from the floor.
“Dr. E, let them do their jobs,” a deep voice spoke in front of him. Ric was still locked on Pres and his pale, motionless face. Ric finally looked up and recognized the fireman and two of the four paramedics. All of them frequented his ER. “You can ride with him in the ambulance, Dr. E. Come on. We’re moving now.”
They had Pres on the gurney and wheeling out of the apartment so fast that Ric had to jog to keep up.
I’m here, Pres. Keep fighting.
They wouldn’t let Ric in the back with Pres, because he was too emotionally involved. He knew this already. He’d told countless family members who were medical professionals the same thing before he went into the OR to play God on their loved ones.
Pres was currently getting a full neuro work-up by the best neurosurgeon in the country. The brilliant doctor was here consulting on a clinical trial at the university when Ric called him in for a favor.
Thank God Dr. Brown was still here. If anyone can save Pres, it’s him.
Ric was staring out the window debating if he’d done the right thing by going through Pres’s contacts on his cell phone and leaving a voice mail for Blair. Blair was Pres’s best friend now, so he believed it’s what Pres would’ve wanted, despite the fact that the sexy Texan grated on Ric’s last nerve. He also contacted his parents. They were driving in from Richmond as Ric waited alone—but not patiently—for Dr. Brown to come out with some answers. It’d been hours already. Actually, it’d been one hour, fifty-two minutes, and thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…Ric’s counting was interrupted by Nurse Maggie.
“Here, Dr. E. I went and got this from the cafeteria before they closed for the shift change.” The small woman handed Ric a steaming cup of coffee. Her hands were so small and timid as she lightly brushed his fingertips in a comforting gesture.
“Thanks, Maggie. You didn’t have to do that. But thank you very much.” His voice couldn’t hide the despair he was feeling, and it was obvious Maggie caught it too, her light brown doe eyes taking on a sorrowful look.
“I’m so sorry about your friend, Dr. E, but he’s in good hands. I’m on another case, but Dr. Brown is working frantically at his computer. That’s always a good sign from him. It means something has him very intrigued.”
“Really? How long’s he been at his computer?” Ric’s voice was rushed, and he jumped back when Nurse Maggie’s eyes got as wide as saucers. He vaguely realized he’d grabbed her by both arms. “Oh, Maggie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just I worked on a trial with Dr. Brown four years ago. I know what it means when he’s intrigued.” Ric dropped his chin to his chest.
Regarding Dr. Brown, “intrigued” meant one of two things. Either Pres actually had developed something that Dr. Brown couldn’t figure out, which was extremely farfetched. The man had been all over the world studying the human brain. He knew it all. Well, he knew a hell of a lot. Or two, Pres was exhibiting symptoms that Dr. Brown had rarely seen. Either instance would have the smart doctor working nonstop until he found a solution.
“God, when is he coming to get me?” Ric whispered more so to himself.
“Do you want me to go get him?” Maggie asked as she began to turn to walk away.
“No! Please, let him work. It’s why I called him. Please, don’t disturb him.” Ric spoke hurriedly to stop her in her tracks. He took a few calming breaths and tried to give Maggie a little smile. He hoped he’d pulled it off. Maggie was always so sweet to him, a little flirty, but sweet nonetheless. “Just, talk to me okay? A little distraction might help.”
She smiled warmly. “Sure, Doctor.” She gestured for Ric to sit as she sat next to him and jumped right into distracting him. “So, the clinic’s kid’s charity bazaar was yesterday, and we raised over five thousand dollars for the children’s wing.”
Maggie excitedly rattled on about the hospital’s charity events, her new book club that she’d joined, a chick flick she saw over the weekend, and her husband’s inability to cut the grass every week or take out the trash when needed. This time Ric did smile. She never expected him to input any thoughts. She just released irrelevant story after story. After a good while, he realized he wasn’t holding his breath anymore in anticipation of a “code blue” being called over the PA system.
“Dr. Edwards.”
Ric jumped at Dr. Brown’s sharp tone, and Maggie immediately shut her mouth. Ric rushed to the counter where Dr. Brown was handing the nurse a few faxes.
“Send these now, please,” he ordered.
The man was no-nonsense all the time. Ric had sensed that Dr. Brown liked him from the first time they’d met, when he’d promptly requested Ric to work with him on one of his trial studies. When Dr. Brown asked, you accepted, because it was indeed an honor.
“How is he, Clark?” Ric looked into Dr. Brown’s intellectual eyes for any fraction of sorrow and saw none.
“Come on back, Rickson. I have something to show you.” Dr. Brown led them back to a small family waiting room in the neurology wing that was empty and waited for Ric to join him at the small four-person table.
“Is the family coming?” he asked first.
“Yes, I called his parents and his best friend. The parents have to drive in from Richmond, so they’ll be here in about another hour or so, I guess,” Ric answered. He fidgeted nervously while Dr. Brown scrunched his wise brown eyes at some results on Pres’s CT scan. Ric didn’t dare interrupt him. Finally, Dr. Brown raised his head to speak.
“When I looked at the CT scans, my first concern was blockages, or clots, in his brain, specifically because of his previous surgery from his car accident. Then, Mr. Vaughan woke about fifteen minutes into his angiogram exam, and we had to immediately put him back under. However, when he was awake for those few minutes, he was screaming about bright light, Rickson, and his eyes were wide open.” Dr. Brown looked at Ric as he processed what he’d just said.
“Wait. Clark. Are you s-s-saying that Pres…” Ric’s voice trailed off as his hands shook violently.
“I believe Mr. Vaughan may have regained a portion of his vision from the head trauma he just sustained.”
Holy shit.
Pres could hear beeping and footsteps all around him while he lay as still as he could on the most uncomfortable bed he’d ever felt in his thirty-plus years. He had to concentrate on not moving an inch, because even wiggling his toes required a command sent from his brain, and any use of his head hurt like hell.
Pres was hopeful, because at least he remembered what had landed him in the hospital, so he believed that meant no serious brain damage.
Maybe I just have a big knot on my head.
He didn’t remember too much else. He’d dreamed of a blinding light and loud knocking sounds. There were frantic voices yelling his name and telling him to calm down.
Maybe I was closer to death than I thought. Man, so it’s true. You do see bright lights before you die.
Pres was just pondering that thought when he registered a gentle touch on his thigh and then someone grasping his hand.
“You should be awake by now, baby. They stopped the medicine an hour ago.”
Ric?
Ric was there and talking to him, and oh God, he sounded so sad. Pres could hear him as clear as day. He desperately wanted to open his mouth and tell Ric he was fine, but his mouth didn’t work, and it scared him shitless.
I can’t talk. I can’t talk.
The fear gripped and seized his brain, and he fought not to throw up at the intensity of the pain. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, and he began to shake fiercely.
“Pres, calm down.” Ric squeezed Pres’s hand hard. “I’m right here, baby. Try to relax. You’re okay. You’re actually better than okay. Please calm down.”
Like hell I’m okay!
Pres heard the door burst open and a man’s voice barking at Ric to step back.
“Mr. Vaughan, can you hear me? Mr. Vaughan, I’m your doctor, and I can give you something for the pain, but I need for you to calm down. You’re having a panic attack. I need you to concentrate on my voice and breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”
Pres tried to follow the orders that he could hear so clearly, but he still couldn’t speak.
Why can’t I speak? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“Rickson, get over here,” Dr. Brown commanded. “The monitor shows that he’s wide awake, but he’s not responding to me, and I don’t want to give him a sedative until I’ve had the results from his EEG on his vision. Help him to calm down. Talk to him.”
Ric leaned down to whisper in Pres’s ear. “Pres, we need you to calm down. You are not critically injured. I don’t know what has you so upset, baby, but you’re going to be just fine. I have the best doctor taking care of you. But, if you don’t calm down, then he’ll have to sedate you, and we don’t want that. I know you can hear me. Just concentrate on my voice, and slow your breathing.”
Ric’s deep voice was warm and soothing on Pres’s neck. It felt so good and familiar, as if it’d been there all the time. Pres remembered how scared Ric could get, so he tried very hard to do what he said. He squeezed his eyes tightly and fought through the pain in his head. Pres sucked in a shaky breath through his nose and coughed and sputtered when he tried to release it through his mouth.
“Ric,” he managed to croak out.
I can talk.
“Yes, I’m right here. That’s it. Breathe again. Just like that, gorgeous.”
Ric was squeezing Pres’s hand with a harsh grip, but the soft, whispered words in his ear contradicted the paralyzing fear Pres assumed Ric would be feeling. Pres faintly registered the decreasing beep of the machines as he focused on Ric’s breath so very close to his face. He breathed in again—this time a little slower—and got a large whiff of Ric’s scent.
Ahhh. Smells so good.
He wanted to nuzzle Ric’s scratchy jaw, but refused to move his head, which would surely result in another jolt of pain. So, he just breathed in that beautiful fragrance and felt his body untense.
Dr. Brown spoke up. “Well done, Rickson. All right, we’re back to normal. Mr. Vaughan, can you verbally respond to me?”
Why is he yelling? Goddamn it. If he’s such a brilliant doctor, doesn’t he know I have a damn headache the size of Blair’s ego?
“Yes, I can hear you, but the pain… It’s too much.” Pres managed to finally find his voice, but every syllable that he spoke was like someone whacking him in the head with a steel hammer. He couldn’t even remember feeling that kind of powerful pain after his accident.
Oh, well, maybe that was because I had a doctor nice enough to give me morphine.
“Well done. Yes, I know the pain is intense. You have twenty stitches in the back of your head, but otherwise, and very luckily, there were no additional internal injuries. You just have a local anesthetic right now for the discomfort. I’ll give you something stronger for the pain as soon as I get the results of your last test that will hopefully tell me what I suspect has occurred as a result of your recent head trauma,” Dr. Brown said.
“What result occurred?” Pres asked to whoever was in the room.
“I’ll let Dr. Edwards explain that to you, since he’s more than capable. I just got a text that your results are ready. Let me go have a look, and I’ll be back in a few.”
Pres heard the man’s heavy footsteps leave his room.
What results? Am I even more blind?
“Ric, what results?” Pres squeezed Ric’s hand. He really didn’t want to talk, but Pres hated surprises. He just wanted Ric to rip it off like a Band-Aid and tell him the bad news.
“Pres, Clark—I mean, Dr. Brown—thinks that the fall you had in your kitchen, the impact of a precise location of your skull to the corner of your counter, may have affected your vision…for the better, not worse.”
This is so stupid. I can’t see shit. Can I just get some pain medicine, please?
“Jesus. You say this guy is the best there is,” Pres huffed, not meaning to sound so annoyed, but he felt this was all very unnecessary and pretty cruel. “How can it be better? It’s still pitch-dark, Ric.”
Ric leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on Pres’s forehead before responding, “You have bandages over your eyes, baby. That’s why it’s dark.”
Pres jerked his hand up to lightly graze the featherlight bandages covering his eyes.
How the hell did I not realize that?