Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

It beganwith a deceptively simple conversation.

“Brandon, what are you doing here?”

Will had been happy to see his brother rolling down the halls of GKH, especially since he hadn’t seen his brother in weeks, thanks to everything going on with Oakley.

“Just in for a regular check-up,” Brandon had answered, steering his chair so that he could walk with Will toward the staff breakroom. “To be honest, I’m surprised to see you here, mate.”

Will laughed. “I know, I know. I’ve been spending entirely too much time with my boyfriend lately. You and the rest of the family can tease me all you’d like about it.”

“I mean, I’m never going to pass up an opportunity to tease you,” Brandon said, bumping his chair against Will’s leg. “And I’m right pissed off that you haven’t introduced me to Oakley yet.”

“He’s had a lot going on,” Will said with a frown. The understatement had made him feel off. Oakley was struggling, and Will wasn’t sure if he even knew it.

“Don’t we all,” Brandon said with a smirk. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“No? What did you mean?” Will asked.

“I meant I’m surprised to see you wandering down the halls instead of queueing up at Dr. Armitage’s door to apply for the new director position.”

Will stopped and narrowed his eyes at Brandon. “What new director position?”

Brandon maneuvered his chair around so he was facing Will again. After spending more than half his life in his chair, Brandon could manipulate it with grace and precision, even though his upper body motor function was limited.

“Come on. Don’t tell me I know more about what’s going on at this hospital than you do,” Brandon said. “You’re the one who works here.”

Maybe he had been spending too much time focused on Oakley after all. But Oakley was so much more than just a patient.

“Just tell me,” he sighed, walking on with Brandon at his side.

“Word on the street is that Dr. Armitage is looking for a right-hand man to help run the expanded physical therapy department,” Brandon told him. “The announcement was just made this morning, so maybe you haven’t heard yet. Apparently, with the new grant money from the NHS, Dr. Armitage and the hospital in general want to make this London’s premier hospital for treating spinal cord injuries.”

“And Armitage wants to hire an assistant?” Will asked.

“Sounds like the position will be more important than that,” Brandon said. “This is your chance, Will. This is the job you’ve always said you wanted. It sounds like you could have a direct hand in improving the lives of all sorts of people like me and your sweetheart.”

Will’s brain had started buzzing after that brief conversation with Brandon, but it completely scattered about an hour later, in the staff lounge.

“Is it true that Armitage wants to hire a director for the expanded physical therapy department?” he asked Debbie as the two of them helped themselves to coffee.

“Yeah, that’s what it sounds like,” Debbie had answered. “There’s a Director of Development position opening up, and people are already applying, or so I hear.”

Will’s heart thumped harder. He hadn’t even seen the brief, and he could feel that the job of Armitage’s right-hand man had his name written all over it. It was like the chance he’d had back in January was being offered to him all over again. He would actually be able to reach for that brass ring he’d set for himself when Brandon was first injured.

“How does Armitage want people to apply?” he asked.

Before Debbie could answer, Rich—who had walked into the lounge in time to hear the tail end of the conversation—barked a laugh and said, “They’re never going to give that sort of responsibility to you, mate.”

“Richard, hold your tongue,” Debbie scolded him, though she did it with the good nature of someone who was trying to stay on everyone’s good side.

“What?” Rich had asked with a shrug. “It’s true. The hospital is never going to hire someone to that sort of a position when they have a history of inappropriate relationships with patients.”

“I do not have a history of inappropriate relationships with patients,” Will said in a flat voice, glaring at Rich. “I happen to be dating a former private patient is all, and it’s going quite well.”

“You are dating a man who was assigned to you as a patient of this hospital not five months ago,” Rich corrected him with a sneer. “And I don’t see how you can say that a relationship that started with him completely dependent on you and you in a position to capitalize on a patient’s vulnerability is going well.”

“Stop it, Richard,” Debbie came to Will’s defense again. “Will and Oakley are perfect together. I’ve seen them here at the hospital, when Mr. Manfred has come for an appointment.”

“Oh, so you, too, are admitting that Will here is dating a patient at this hospital?” Rich asked, growing smugger by the moment. He sent Will a smarmy look and said, “Yeah, you can kiss that promotion goodbye, mate. Again. Unless you want to dump the boyfriend to advance your career instead.”

Those words had rung in Will’s ears for the rest of the day. Not for the first time either. The suggestion that dating Oakley was inappropriate and that the hospital administration would see that, and that it would come back to bite him in the arse someday, had been there all along.

And now the choice that had always been a vague hypothetical was rushing closer faster than Will could wrap his mind around it.

All that had come before Will had gone home to Oakley for the night. It had happened before Oakley had lashed out about his country house and let show some of the massive cracks that had been forming for weeks in the optimistic shell Oakley kept his true feelings trapped behind. It had happened before the awkwardness between the two of them as he’d told Oakley about everything that had happened at work except his professional integrity being brought into question and the potentially life-changing promotion he desperately wanted to apply for. It had happened before Oakley’s spirit had been broken by the curse of a public place that should have been accessible to him but wasn’t.

It wouldn’t be the last time something Oakley loved and had previously done with ease would be closed off to him.

“We’re home,” he said, trying to maintain cheer in his voice…but not too much cheer, because Oakley tended to be insulted by false displays of optimism. He’d pulled the van into its place behind Oakley’s house, then set to work unlocking Oakley’s chair and preparing the lift.

Oakley didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at Will. His posture had slipped so badly on the drive home that Will was worried he’d hurt his back again and undo some of the progress they’d made in the last few weeks.

“Come on, love,” Will sighed, deciding to let his exhaustion and frustration with the situation show as well. “You can’t let it get you down. Yes, it sucks to not be able to get into a restaurant, but you’re bigger than that. You’re better than them. It’s their problem, not yours.”

Oakley looked at him with those words. Just looked at him. He didn’t say anything.

But Will could see the smoldering pain building in Oakley’s eyes, and it didn’t bode well.

With only minimal effort and help from Oakley, Will managed to get him out of the van and into the house. In the past few weeks, Oakley had insisted on as much independence as he could manage, which had manifested itself in irritation anytime anyone tried to push his chair. Oakley liked to get himself around as much as possible, because it was something he could actually do, legs or no legs.

He didn’t lift a finger to help himself once they were in the house. Will had to push him into the kitchen, otherwise he likely would have stayed in the hallway all night.

“It’s just a minor setback,” Will insisted once he’d positioned Oakley at the table and gone scrounging in the fridge to see what was there. It was a little late for making dinner now, though. “And think of all the good that can come out of this,” he went on, plopping things to make sandwiches on the counter. “I’m sure La Friponne will give some thought to accessibility now. Maybe other Michelin star restaurants will start doing the same. You might be the one to start a whole trend in accessible dining in London.”

“Hoorah for me being the poster boy for crippled fine dining,” Oakley muttered, looking away from Will.

Will slammed the jar of mayonnaise on the counter. “Do not use that word, Oakley,” he said, voice raised. “You know better than that. Both for yourself and others who are in your position.”

Oakley whipped his head around to stare at Will, wide-eyed and furious. “In my position?” he demanded. “You mean the position of being trapped with my head at the level of everyone’s dick? Unable to easily get out of embarrassing situations without creating more embarrassment? Automatically looked down on, like I have the plague, just because I was idiot enough not to fasten my seatbelt?”

Will felt as though Oakley had punched him in the gut. Not so much because Oakley’s outburst was directed at him, but because it was proof that all of the smiling and positive talk, all of the insistence that things were getting better and the future would be full of hope and accomplishments, had been fragile enough to be torn to shreds by one rude ma?tre d’ at some restaurant nobody actually cared about.

“All of that is circumstantial,” Will shouted. He wasn’t angry with Oakley specifically, but he was suddenly so furious with so many things that he felt as if his skin might burn off. “It’s not who you are.”

“Like hell it’s not who I am,” Oakley shouted back. He grabbed the wheels of his chair and jerked back from the table. “All of it is who I fucking am now. I’m a cripple, and I don’t care how offensive that word is to you or anyone else. I’m stuck in this bloody wheelchair, and I’m never getting out of it again. It doesn’t matter how much money I have or what stupid fucking title I inherited or how many bloody country estates I own. I’m hardly better than a worm to most people now.”

“Fuck them!” Will shouted, taking a step toward Oakley. “People are fucking morons when it comes to treating anyone the way they should be treated, whether they’re in a chair or gay or black or anything. Because people are so far up their own arses that they stop feeling any shred of compassion. But you aren’t like that. You are a strong, proud man who can conquer any challenge he’s faced with.”

“No, I’m not!” Oakley shouted, his eyes going glassy. He managed to hold his tears back, but the pain was still raw in his voice. “Everything was taken away from me. Everything I love and care about is gone.”

“I’m standing right here, you fucking cock!” Will shouted right back at him.

“But for how long?” Oakley demanded, his temper spiking. “How long until you’ve had enough of me? Until you get tired of hauling me around like a sack of potatoes when I can’t help myself? Until you run out of patience with me for being shit in bed? How long until you get tired of the embarrassment of people looking at you with pity when we go out because you’re stuck with someone defective?”

Will had to ball his hands into fists and clench his jaw hard to stop himself from flying at Oakley in a rage. He was shaking from head to toe, which had never, ever happened to him. But then, he’d never been so angry, or so insulted, in his life.

“Do you really think so little of me?” he hissed, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Do you really think that with the brother I have and the job that I do, do you really think that after everything we’ve shared together and the way I’ve put my entire career and my life’s goals in jeopardy just to be with you, that I would, for one second, think as little of you as you clearly think of yourself?”

He could see at once that his words had hit Oakley like the lash of a whip. Oakley flinched away from him, his face clenching as tight as a fist.

Will couldn’t bear to stand there and watch it. He was afraid of what he might say or do if Oakley came back at him with another insult—not to him, but to himself. He launched into motion, striding right past Oakley and out to the hall.

Part of him had intended to keep going to the door, to walk out into the cool, spring, night, and possibly never to walk back. Was he really putting his dreams in danger for this? For this heartache and frustration? Oakley hadn’t even told him he loved him yet. Maybe everyone who said it was just infatuation and dependence was right.

He couldn’t do it, though. He couldn’t walk out, because whatever Oakley might be feeling, what Will felt was love. Stupid, fucking, soul-ripping love. And he wasn’t about to risk losing that over a fight. So he veered into the living room instead and threw himself onto the sofa, like some sort of overdramatic, Victorian child.

He held his whole body rigid for a moment as he fought not to sob with the pain and outrage tearing at him. Life was a cruel bitch to inflict so many good people with so much sorrow and trauma. Brandon didn’t deserve to experience life from the confines of a chair or a bed. No one did. Oakley had done nothing to warrant the self-flagellation he treated himself to on a daily basis, in addition to being stuck in his chair, just because he’d made one minor mistake. Millions of people failed to wear their seatbelts on a daily basis, but so few of them ever faced consequences.

It took a few minutes, but Will calmed himself down enough to sit forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. What was he supposed to do with the overabundance of feeling and caring he’d been cursed with? He loved Oakley, but love created pain as much as it created joy.

A few more minutes ticked by, and Will noticed the portfolio containing plans to renovate Oakley’s country estate. He grabbed at it and was half a second from throwing it across the room and into the empty fireplace before he stopped himself. What use would it be for him to take his hurt out on the same thing that Oakley was trying to cast aside because it was too painful?

Instead, Will set the portfolio in his lap and opened it. Inside, along with technical drawings and copies of blueprints, were photographs of the house, inside and out, and its grounds. Part of Will thought it was silly for anyone to be a nobleman in this day and age, and for them to own something as aristocratic as a country estate. But the house was gorgeous and impressive. The grounds were glorious, and the views breathtaking.

He glanced up and around at the photographs Oakley had taken of the Cumbrian mountains. Every one of the photos was filled with majesty and peace. He could see why Oakley loved the land so much, and he could see why losing his ability to ramble freely through it would be so devastating.

No wonder the man he loved was bleeding so badly.

Hard on the heels of those thoughts, Oakley quietly rolled into the room. His head was slightly bowed, but when he saw Will, he lifted it, and his eyes filled with heartbreaking hope.

“I thought you’d left,” he said in a wrecked voice.

“Never,” Will said, blowing out every frantic emotion he hadn’t let himself express with that one word.

He shut the portfolio, tossed it aside, and started to stand, but Oakley wheeled quickly over to the sofa, trapping him where he was.

“I don’t think so little of you,” Oakley said, barely above a whisper. “I think so little of me. I would have left any of my past boyfriends if this had been them instead of me. Heath keeps asking me why I’m not angry with Ellis for abandoning me after the accident, but how can I fault him for doing the same as I would have done?”

“Oakley,” Will sighed, all of his angst and anger turning into the strangest mix of love and sadness he’d ever felt.

He reached for Oakley, helping him out of his chair. It wasn’t difficult, since Oakley had already started pushing himself from the chair to the sofa, where Will could wrap his arms around him.

“I would have done exactly the same,” he said, not quite sobbing or crying, but bleary with emotion as he leaned into Will, pressing his face against the side of Will’s neck. “Six months ago, if I had been a patron of La Friponne and someone in a chair had tried to have dinner there, I would have turned up my nose and considered them a nuisance as well. How can I blame anyone who might be tempted to treat me horribly when I would have done exactly the same thing?”

“You wouldn’t have,” Will insisted, pulling Oakley closer. “You might have been tempted to, but you’re a good man at heart, Oakley. You would have self-corrected.”

Oakley huffed and shook his head. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

“And you’re not giving yourself enough.”

Just holding Oakley suddenly wasn’t good enough. Will used the strength and leverage he had to spread Oakley across the sofa and to stretch himself out alongside him. He felt so much better being able to press his body against Oakley’s and to stroke his hand over Oakley’s shoulder and side before resting it over his thudding heart.

“If I ever leave you, it won’t be because you’re paraplegic or because it takes a little longer to get you hard. I rather enjoy that particular challenge, actually.”

Oakley huffed a laugh and blinked rapidly to stop himself from crying.

Will grew more serious and went on. “If I ever leave you, it will be because you’re a cranky, demanding, frustrating bastard who keeps his feelings locked up too tight and who would rather lash out than feel hurt. And frankly, love,” he said, brushing Oakley’s hair off his forehead, then cradling the side of his face, “you would be that way whether you were in a wheelchair or not, admit it.”

Oakley let out a sharp laugh, then took in a breath, like he was gasping for air after nearly drowning. “You’re right. That part of me hasn’t changed.”

“And I dare say it won’t anytime soon,” Will said, arching one eyebrow. “Grumpy git.”

“I’m a grumpy git who desperately needs a kiss right about now,” Oakley said with surprising vulnerability.

Will had no intention of saying no. He leaned in, holding the side of Oakley’s face, and kissed him with all the passion he could muster. He parted Oakley’s lips, thrusting his tongue against Oakley’s and plundering what he wanted and needed from the man. He needed Oakley to see that he did want him, that physical barriers were nothing to the sort of connection that made being in a relationship that might make him lose everything he’d worked for professionally was worth it.

He just needed to kiss the man he loved.

“Can we go upstairs now?” Oakley asked in a hush when Will paused for breath.

“You don’t want to eat something first?”

It was the perfect set-up for a joke, but Oakley shook his head seriously and said, “No. I just really need to be naked with you right now.”

Will swallowed hard. He understood. Lord, did he understand.

“Alright,” he said, sitting and scooping Oakley into his arms. “But I’m going to carry you upstairs to bed, like some sort of fairy tale prince, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Good,” Oakley said, smiling warmly.

That was all the answer Will needed from him. It was all that mattered.