Chapter 7

Matt

As desperate as I am to talk to Dylan privately, apologize for putting him through this—god, another middle-of-the-night phone call with bad news—I didn't get the chance that day. The staff kicked my family out when they were ready to move me to a regular ward, and the move—even though all I did was lie in the bed and get wheeled around—exhausted me so much, I fell asleep. When I wake up, Gabe's sitting beside my bed, and Marc is standing over by the window of my new, thankfully private, room.

Shit. I guess I'm not going to be rid of Marc for a while, if he has to work on healing me.

Connor and Ian arrive a couple of hours later, and when I ask where Dylan is, they say he volunteered to sit with me overnight, since he's usually awake and working during most of those hours. Technically, the hospital doesn't allow it—outside of visiting hours—but apparently Marc did some mojo so nobody will notice.

I don't want to think about that too much.

I'm not really sure how late my brothers stay, because I fall asleep again right after my dinner of unidentifiable disgustingness. The nice woman who delivered it asked me to choose my selections for tomorrow, and I think she was offended when I said, "Anything but this shit."

It's not until the sun is peeking around the edge of the blind—lighting half of Marc's face and casting the rest in creepy shadows—that I wake up.

Dylan is sitting beside me, his fingers tapping at his keyboard faster than I could ever attempt to. The light from his laptop screen illuminates his face, and for a long moment, I just watch him.

He's the best thing in my life.

Ten-years-ago me—hell, even two-years-ago me—would have laughed at the idea that my good friend Dyl and I could become more than friends. I probably would have laughed at the idea that I could ever even feel this way. Dylan makes me understand why people write poetry, and I hate poetry. But the love I have for him is so big that sometimes I think it's going to burst out of me. Keeping our relationship a secret, even from Ian, has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I'm counting the fucking Battle for the Barrier, where we went to war with demons .

I understand why he wants us to. I do. He's apologized countless times, and I get it. Especially now, after this. His parents were both killed in the Battle for the Barrier, but somehow, he didn't get notified. They weren't on the casualty lists, so when he couldn't reach them, he just assumed they were busy with the aftermath. It wasn't until two days later that he got a middle-of-the-night call to tell him they were dead.

So yeah, I understand. My family and I still work on the front lines in a lot of ways, me especially, and he's worried that if the world knows about us, if he's officially part of another family, he might have to go through that loss all over again. From my perspective, he was incredibly brave to push aside that fear enough to be with me. Love me. Plan a future with me, even if right now, we're keeping that to ourselves.

So I'll do whatever he needs me to do—I even offered to move to an admin job. When he was done laughing—everyone remembers my short stint in the archives—he insisted he doesn't want to change me, and that one day, we'll share us with the world. But that doesn't sometimes stop me from wondering if he really feels what I do or if his love for me is more… casual. Transient. Because if he loves me as much as I love him, how can he want to keep us secret?

Insecurities are a bitch.

His fingers stop moving, and he sighs, leaning back in the visitor chair and cracking his neck. It's something I've seen him do so many times, I smile, and that's the moment his gaze falls on me.

"You're awake… and happy. You remember where you are, right?"

I scoff. "Hard to forget, with a fucking catheter in my dick. I really hope that comes out soon."

He grins. "Aw, so you're not into sounding, then. Good to know."

My eyes shoot to Marc. Maybe he didn't hear that. Or maybe he just assumed it was the kind of thing friends say to each other. He doesn't have the greatest grasp on human interpersonal relationships.

Marc smirks at me, and I swear, if my arms and legs weren't all in casts, I'd get up off the bed and go smack it off his face. I seriously don't know how Ian can love him. The only good thing he's got going for him is the way he treats my brother-bestie.

"Don't mind me," he says in his usual bored, condescending tone. "I already know you're involved."

I'm speechless.

Maybe he has a better grasp of human relationships than I thought.

"What?" Dylan gasps. " How? "

"What he means is, we're totally not," I rush to add, tripping over the words. "We're just good enough friends that we can make jokes like that. You wouldn't know, not having reached that tier of friendship with anyone."

He says nothing, just arches a brow, but pain floods through me.

"Fuck," I croak. "Fine. You have friends. Jesus, just give me back the painkiller."

A second later, I'm blessedly free of pain once more.

"Don't test me, puny human," he says silkily. "Also, press the morphine button. If the pain was that bad, you would have done so already. No need to make the staff suspicious."

Sighing, I fumble for the little cylinder and push the button. It makes no difference, since Marc's a better pain blocker than any drug—and considering what a headache he is, that's not something I ever thought I'd say—but a moment later, he nods.

"I still want to know how he knows," Dylan insists. "I mean, it's fine—we need to talk about that—but how ?"

"You reek of each other," Marc says simply.

Dyl blinks at him, offended. "I beg your pardon?"

"We've never met in person before, so I didn't realize, but your scent is embedded deeply into Matt's skin. That usually only happens when people spend a great deal of time together, or immediately after sex. Long-term lovers are easy to identify." He flicks something only he can see off his sleeve. "I knew that first night."

My mouth goes dry. "Did you tell Ian? You can't. Dylan needs us to keep this quiet—" I break off when I remember what he said a minute ago, about it being fine that Marc knows. What?

"Ian doesn't know?" Marc asks, and normally I'd enjoy the note of surprise, but I'm only half listening. My attention is fixed on Dylan, who's smiling apologetically at me.

"It's time to tell them," he says. "I'm sorry I made you wait this long. I…" He looks away and swallows. "If this ever happens again, I don't want to find out by accident. I want to be the first person anyone thinks to call." He links his fingers loosely with mine. "Everyone needs to know you're mine, Matty."

Hope bursts inside me.

"How sickening," Marc observes dryly, shattering the moment. "Are you telling me that Ian doesn't know? You kept something secret from him ? How is the world still turning?"

"Hey, don't make it sound weird. He didn't tell me when you guys hooked up."

"But you knew anyway," he points out.

"Maybe Ian's guessed, then," Dylan says, patting my hand. "Maybe he's just waiting for you to tell him, like you waited until he was ready to tell you."

"He doesn't know," Marc says flatly. "If you didn't tell him and ask him to keep it from me, then he doesn't know."

Dylan rolls his eyes. "Because you tell each other everything? Dude, you're getting all human and sappy."

Marc narrows his eyes, and the window shade snaps up, flooding the room with early sunlight and blinding me and Dylan. He laughs mockingly as we curse him.

"One thing I will say about Earth," he muses. "There's a certain pleasure to be found in inflicting small torments on your humans."

"I'm so telling Ian on you," I mutter, squinting as my eyes take their sweet time to adjust. "Go wait in the hall so I can talk to Dylan in private."

He sighs. "You do know I'll still be able to hear you perfectly?"

"Okay, go wait in the hall so I can talk to Dylan with the illusion of privacy."

"You're extremely lucky Ian is fond of you," he informs me, then leaves the room. I'm kinda surprised by that—I really didn't think he would.

"He can smell us on each other?" Dylan shakes his head. "That dude is fucking weird."

"We knew that. It's why we have a whole project to make him seem more normal. Though I still can't believe we were so good at it that Ian believed the bullshit he helped us make up and fell in love with the asshole."

"I'm right with you on that. Though we should probably be nicer to him, since Ian loves him… and he saved your life." He looks away for a second. "I'll always be grateful for that."

Ugh. True. I sigh grudgingly. "I won't be rude to him anymore, but nice is probably stretching it. We both know he only saved me to make Ian happy."

Proving that Marc is, in fact, eavesdropping, my pain comes back. "Ow! All right, you fucker, you're a good human."

The pain disappears, but Marc opens the door and sticks his head in, an appalled expression on his face.

"Take that back."

I roll my eyes. "You're a good being ."

"No."

Dylan and I exchange glances. What the fuck does he want?

"You're a tolerable being?" Dylan suggests.

Marc huffs. "Better." The door closes firmly behind him.

"God forbid we should suggest he's human," I mutter, then brace myself for the pain, but it doesn't come. I guess he's okay with low-key sniping.

Good. I really don't think I could stop. He's just that annoying.

"So," Dyl says, tracing his fingers around the bruises on my hand, his eyes glued to them. Thankfully, the bones in my hands were among the few that survived unscathed. My feet, not so much. "While we were waiting for Marc to work his miracle, I did a lot of thinking." His gaze lifts to mine, and the raw vulnerability there makes me wish I could wrap him in my arms without my casts doing some serious damage. "I'm scared, Matt. I know your family. I love your family. And I know that if you tell them we're together, they'll welcome me like I'm their brother too." He swallows hard. "I don't think I can lose another family."

I take a second to think about my answer. We've talked about this before, and I'm not going to belittle how he feels—fuck knows, it was hard to process what my parents did and how we lost them, and we weren't close. But…

"I can't promise nothing will happen to us. We both grew up knowing what reality is. If you want a risk assessment, I'm the one most likely to get hurt these days—the others are all in administrative roles. If something did happen to me, you wouldn't be alone. They'd be there for you, always. And I'll say it again, Dyl—anytime you want me to quit and move to a different job, I'll do it. I'll do anything for you. Just say the word."

His smile is sad. "You love your job, Matt. I'm not going to be the reason you have to give it up. I knew what I was getting when we hooked up." He takes a deep breath. "But I'm never going through this again. I want your family to be there for me if I need them. So… tell them."

I knew that's what this was leading toward, but it still sends a giddy wave of euphoria through me. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "Positive." Then he winces. "Ian's gonna kill us both for keeping it a secret."

"Pfft. Let me deal with Ian."