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“I’ve had worse.” Not sure I had, actually, but there you go.
“Not gate-crashing your own home.”
“No,” I acknowledged. “But I’m…I’m glad you’re here.”
“It’s odd isn’t it, Alex? Us meeting again, after all this time?”
His words were spoken so quietly, I had to strain to hear. Daring to look, I saw he had opened his eyes again and his gaze tangled with mine, all at once as familiar as if we’d never parted.
“Odd in a good way or bad?” My heart paused mid-thump.
“Good,” he replied. “But I think you already know that.”
Watching the flames lick up the inside of the glass, peacefully sitting across from Matt, something within me settled into place. As if I’d pushed my feet into a well-worn pair of slippers. It felt right. Being here with him felt right. I had countless questions, of course, but they could wait. All that mattered was having Matt back in my life, and this time I wouldn’t let him get away.
I had to go to work tomorrow, but Matt could stay longer. From the state of him, he needed at least a week of bedrest for his head to mend. He had a couple of hospital follow-up appointments to attend, too. I’d drive him to those, even if I had to juggle operating list commitments. He wasn’t fit enough for public transport. And then, when he recovered, we’d arrange to stay in touch. I guessed he didn’t live too far away, seeing as the ambulance had scooped him up and brought him to our hospital. We could get to know each other again. Maybe I’d invite him over when Ryan came to stay, for Sunday lunch or something. Or we could meet for a walk along the beach.
Surprisingly, Matt accepted my offer to help him back to bed. He must have been feeling worse than he let on. As he pushed himself off the sofa, he even let me support him, pausing with dizziness as he stood straight. We shuffled a couple of metres with minimal swearing before he clutched his ribs and began heaving. An ugly mustard yellow vase chosen by Samantha sat within easy reach, which Matt made even less attractive while I rubbed his back.
“Better?” His stomach couldn’t possibly have anything remaining in it. He sagged against my arm.
“I think so. Sorry. Christ, the nausea hits me from nowhere.”
“My pizza didn’t agree with you.”
“My stomach thought your pizza tasted delicious. It’s my brain that rejected it.”
A compliment lay hidden in there, I think.
“As I said, you need to take it easy. Let’s get you back to bed.”
A sheen of sweat covered his face. As his head came to rest on my shoulder, silky threads of thick black hair brushed my chin. “Sorry about the vase.”
“Don’t be. I have a valid excuse to get rid of it now.”
No way would I leave his side until I saw him horizontal again. I hovered in the bathroom doorway as he rinsed his mouth then brushed his teeth, averting my eyes as he used the toilet.
He began grumbling again as we tottered towards the bed, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “We’ve skipped a few steps on the intimacy front, haven’t we?” Bracing his ribs for him, I helped settled him back on the pillows. “I’m not usually this easy.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, reluctant to leave him. “It’s nice to have someone to look after. Ryan doesn’t need me anymore.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t got yourself a girlfriend.” He stifled a yawn.
I shrugged. “I’m not interested in finding one. I’ve become quite…set in my ways. And having Samantha spend the last three years telling me I’m dull and unadventurous dented my confidence a bit, to be honest.”
Matt’s hand rested perilously close to my own on top of the duvet. Even so, it still shocked me when his warm fingers tangled with mine.
“I never used to think you were dull, Alex. Or unadventurous. When we were kids, it was me who knew I was gay, but, if you remember, you were the one with the balls to make the first move. Even though you were as confused as hell. I’d call that pretty adventurous.”
That crazy kiss after the Pogues gig. How could I ever forget? Like a stampede of pissed elephants, hundreds of blokes had surged out of the concert hall, with Matt and me right in the thick of it. Petrified he’d get flattened; I’d held onto him tightly all night. That was the excuse I’d told myself anyhow. But when the time had come to let go, I’d just held on even tighter, then done something I’d been plucking up the nerve to do for weeks. Looking back, I suppose it had been pretty brave.
“You’re very kind. But I know what I am. I’m not setting the world on fire.”
Matt’s eyes were closed. The strong painkillers I’d persuaded him to swallow as he brushed his teeth had started to kick in. His fingers squeezed mine and I squeezed back.
“Do you ever wonder what could have been?” he asked, half-asleep. “If things had been different? If we’d stayed together? If Brenner hadn’t…”
For a long moment, I didn’t answer. Playing ‘if only’ was a dangerous game. If only Brenner hadn’t been killed. If only I’d searched for Matt a little longer. If only my feelings for this injured man weren’t so terrifying. If only I didn’t want to slip under the covers and hold him close, right this minute.
