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Are you okay? Where are you going?
When ten solid minutes passed without a response, Michael allowed himself to panic.
Chapter Twenty-Two
From the moment Michael fell to his knees and embraced Rosco in the dirt, Josiah had felt a keen sense of loss. Michael obviously loved that dog. But inviting Kenny inside to talk had hurt in a way Josiah hadn’t been able to voice, so he’d chosen flight over fight. He’d removed himself from the situation, hidden in the trailer alone, and lied about eating. He did have two frozen burritos in the minifridge that hadn’t been engulfed by the ice monster, but his stomach was too tight to allow food inside.
Watching Kenny drive away without Rosco had given him the tiniest flash of hope—until Michael called and said Kenny was staying the night. Josiah had wanted to say no, that wasn’t cool. If Kenny was staying anywhere it should be in the trailer. But Michael and Kenny had talked for a while, and while Josiah felt bad that Kenny was broke, Weston had a motel. The selfish part of Josiah didn’t want Kenny anywhere near Michael overnight.
The part of Josiah that loved Michael and wanted him happy couldn’t deny Michael one more night with his dog. The trade-off was worth it. Keeping his distance was the only thing that would let Josiah sleep tonight. He trusted Michael not to cheat, but part of Josiah still worried that with two big reminders of his previous life in Austin right here, Michael’s heart and mind might start craving a life beyond Weston.
The life he used to have as a rich programmer who threw big parties and lived in a house with a pool. Josiah had needed to stay here alone with his big mood so he didn’t say or do something to ruin this precious life he was creating with Michael.
Then his cell rang a second time with Seamus’s ringtone. Josiah had stared at the phone’s screen for a long time while leaning against the slim wall between the kitchen’s seating area and the bathroom’s folding door. Long enough he nearly let it go to voice mail, because he had nothing to say to Seamus. Nothing at all. But what if this was about Josiah’s assault? So he’d answered with a terse, “Hello?”
“Jo-jo? Thank God you answered.” Seamus’s normally flat voice was, well, strained. Almost fragile and that put Josiah on instant alert.
“What’s wrong? You sound weird.”
“I, um, hate to call you for this, but they won’t let me drive myself home, so I need a ride.”
“Drive home from where? Are you drunk?”
“No, not drunk. I’m at the hospital.”
Josiah’s entire body jerked to attention, and he nearly dropped his phone. “The hospital? Why? Are you sick? Were you in an accident?” He hated the way he snapped to instant alert and wanted to know what was wrong with Seamus. Seamus was a selfish asshole who’d taken his bad moods out on Josiah for far too long, but he was also a human being. The part of Josiah who’d become a nurse so he could help people and families rebelled at anyone in pain, no matter the reason.
“I’m okay now,” Seamus said. “Bumps, bruises, a few stitches. It’s just, I hit my head so they won’t let me drive myself home.”
“Drive home...did you drive yourself to the ER? What happened to you?”
“I’ll explain it later. I just really want to go home, and I can’t call anyone I work with. I can’t do that. Please, Josiah. Please, take me home.”
“Okay.” Josiah agreed before he could talk himself out of it. Seamus was in the middle of a crisis, and Josiah couldn’t turn his back on the man, no matter how many times Seamus had hurt him in the past. He wasn’t that person.
So Josiah left. He knew exactly which roads to take to the county hospital and he found a spot to park. His phone beeped twice with texts he ignored, his adrenaline already on overload, no idea what he might find when he walked into the ER. What he did not expect to find was Seamus in a waiting room chair with a bandage on his forehead, his left arm in a sling, and dressed in scrubs instead of his own clothes.
Seamus flashed him a familiar glare that cut off all of Josiah’s questions. After signing whatever he needed to sign, Seamus limped his way out of the hospital and into the passenger front seat of Josiah’s car—a very odd place for him to be, because Seamus had driven them everywhere when they’d “been together.”
Neither of them spoke for the entire drive back to Seamus’s house, but it wasn’t the tense silences Josiah was used to. Seamus seemed unwilling to speak, and the fact that Josiah was waiting of his own accord gave Josiah a tiny bit of power. Power he planned on using to his advantage so he could get some answers out of Seamus tonight.
Instead of going straight back to Seamus’s place, Josiah pulled onto the shoulder about half a mile away and put the gear into Park. “What happened tonight?”
Seamus glared at him. “Take me home, Jo-jo.”
Two months ago Josiah might have backed down out of sheer fright. Tonight, he grabbed hold of all his inner strength and stubbornness and held his ground. “Not until you tell me what happened to you.”
“Fine.” Seamus yanked the door open and got out, probably with the intent to walk the rest of the way to his house. Five steps along the shoulder, though, he stumbled and went to his knees with a pained shout.
“Damn it.” Josiah scrambled to Seamus’s side, concerned by how pale he was even in the yellow glow of the headlights. Seamus never showed weakness, so something was hugely wrong here. “Get back in the car, you stubborn ass.”
“You giving me orders now, sweetheart?”
“Fuck, yes, I am. Come on.” For as much as he disliked touching Seamus again, Josiah helped him stand and limp back to the car. He didn’t have blood on his slacks or any obvious signs of a bandage, so Josiah’s best guess was Seamus’s ribs. Josiah had dealt with bruised ribs once, and they could make something as simple as breathing hurt like hell.
He got Seamus reinstalled in the passenger seat, barely feeling the cold air biting his cheeks. He still cranked the heat up on the short drive to Seamus’s. Helped Seamus out and into the small house that had been home for two long years. Seamus sank into his recliner and let out a long, frustrated groan.
Unsure what to do, Josiah went into the kitchen and poured Seamus two fingers of whiskey. He nearly poured a glass for himself but wanted to keep as clear a head as possible right now. Seamus took the old-fashioned glass from him but didn’t drink it. He stared at the brown liquid like it held the secrets of the universe. The living room was kind of a mess, with a broken picture on the floor, the shade knocked off a sideways lamp, and just a general look of disarray.
