Chapter 9

Newt

My shiftat the hospital was only halfway over, but it already felt like it had lasted a week. I'd spent the entire first half of my break looking forward to calling Bastian on my break, only for the infuriating man to leave me with an incomprehensible clue for the video game level I couldn't beat.

An hour later and it was still bouncing around my head.

"You have to breathe on yourself," I grumbled as I sat at the front desk filing paperwork. "What does that even mean? Stupid Bastian. He's lucky he's hot, or I wouldn't forgive him."

Although my words sounded angry, anyone passing by would have known I didn't mean them due to the smile on my face.

I was dating someone.

I still couldn't believe it.

We'd talked every day this week, and so far, Bastian had taken every moment of weirdness I'd thrown at him in stride. At first glance, I hadn't expected him to be so accepting. He seemed like the kind of guy who took life seriously. His sharp, dark eyes surveyed the world around him like he was judging whether it was worth his attention or not.

Yet, under his all black wardrobe and broad shoulders, I found a man with a relaxed sense of humor and a surprising preference for wholesome entertainment.

Maybe it was too soon to think such things after only a week, but I could see us becoming serious. I'd never had a proper boyfriend before. The few flings I'd had in college didn't count.

Sucking off a drunk frat boy in the bathroom during a party couldn't compare to even a single moment just sitting around talking with Bastian.

Although now that my mind had wandered onto the topic, I couldn't help picturing what sex with Bastian would be like.

Would he be strong and domineering?

Soft and considerate?

Confident?

Shy?

Any one of those would be fine with me. I didn't have many preferences in bed, but I was eager to find out if we were compatible.

I realized I'd been sitting behind the desk daydreaming for a while. The papers in front of me were the same ones I'd looked at ten minutes ago. At this rate, I wasn't going to get any work done.

Sick leave was a thing. Every employee got a certain number of days they could call off for the sake of their health.

Was it possible to also get off work for being too horny?

"Sorry, boss, I can't cover my shift today. I'm too busy fantasizing about the hot guy I'm dating."

"What was that?"

I jumped, not realizing anyone was behind me. One of the regular nurses stood there, clipboard braced on her hip in a way that made her look busy. I knew that stance. I used it all the time when I had nothing to do but didn't want to get pulled into anyone else's work.

"Oh, uh, nothing. Just talking to myself. Do you need anything?"

"Nope. Slow night, so far. Though, I think we have a car crash victim coming in."

I reshuffled my paperwork to give my hands something to do and hide how unproductive I'd been.

"Hopefully, it's nothing too serious."

She shrugged and moved the clipboard to her other hip so she could check something on the computer. "The message we received says that they drove off a bridge. Probably drunk. The ambulance should be here in about two minutes."

"Okay, I'll prepare for a new arrival." I scanned the waiting room for any patients that might cause problems. There was an older woman with an ingrown toenail, and a man with a minor burn on his arm. Nothing that couldn't wait until after we'd dealt with the car crash victim.

Just as I stood from the desk with a stack of papers in hand, the paramedics arrived with our new patent. Since I also worked as a paramedic, I recognized several of the people pushing their way through the door. That was nothing new, and I didn't even blink at the sight of familiar faces.

Then I looked at the patient on the gurney and found a familiar face there as well. The papers fell from my hand, scattering all over the floor.

"Bastian."

In a daze, I watched the gurney pass by and disappear through another door.

No, it couldn't be.

My eyes must be wrong.

My feet carried me after the gurney, kicking aside papers with each step. Someone called my name—the other nurse, maybe—but I paid them no mind.

Following the gurney brought me to a room with an open door where a doctor and several nurses were already working. I wanted to help, or at least move close enough to get a better look at the figure lying on the bed, but my feet were rooted to the floor.

"Nurse Clary. What are you doing? That paperwork needed to be filed an hour ago. Get back to work. This isn't your patient."

Still lost in a stunned fog, I looked over at Administrator Constella who stood next to me tapping her foot.

"I know him. At least, I think I do."

Administrator Constella demanded further clarification, but a hole had appeared in the bustle of activity inside the room. I took the opportunity to stumble over to the patient's bedside, praying that my initial observation had been wrong.

It was the only time I could remember hating being right.

Bastian lay on the bed, bare from the chest up and covered in cuts and bruises. The worst were the cut on his forehead that matted his hair with blood and the dark bruising along his ribs that indicated they were probably broken.

"Bastian." The name felt wrong on my lips. As if, by naming him, I'd made Bastian's tragedy real.

I trailed my hand lightly over his chest and down his stomach to stop at the top of the sheet covering him. Something didn't look right. The outline of his legs under the sheet was the wrong shape.

Terrified of what I'd find, I lifted the sheet. More cuts and bruises marred his left leg, but it was his right one that caught my attention. The paramedics had done what they could to stabilize the limb, but I could still see deep gashes in his flesh, some all the way down to the bone. The leg also sat at an odd angle, meaning it was broken in at least one place.

Overall, it was an ugly wound that was going to take a long time to heal. Even then, scars would still be left behind.

Administrator Constella grabbed my wrist and pulled me away. "What are you doing? You know better."

"I know him," I replied. "He's my... we're dating."

"Yes, I heard you the first time. That's exactly why you can't be here."

I stared at her blankly as she dragged me out of the room.

"Huh?"

She sighed, but her usual stern expression lacked its typical edge.

"Conflict of interest. Nurses and doctors cannot work with patients that they know. You need to step away and let others take care of this."

I hated that idea.

How could I just leave Bastian lying there in the hands of strangers?

However, I wasn't feeling very confident at the moment. My hands trembled even after Administrator Constella let them go. It was probably for the best that I didn't get involved with Bastian's care. In my current state, I'd probably just mess up and hurt him more.

Administrator Constella dropped me back off at the front desk, where I focused on picking up the papers I dropped. Hunting down each and every one turned out to be an arduous task, as many had used the opportunity to take flight and ended up several rooms away. One page had even somehow managed to slip under the door of the women's restroom. That one took me nearly ten minutes to find.

Half an hour after Bastian's arrival, I was once again sitting behind the front desk, filing paperwork, just as I had been doing earlier. I didn't feel any calmer, but I was at least able to think straight again.

No one had shown up for Bastian. That didn't strike me as odd, at first. Normal citizens couldn't drive as fast as an ambulance, so it took them time to get to the hospital. But surely half an hour should have been long enough for someone to show up. Bastian hadn't mentioned many family members, but I knew he had a brother.

What was the man's name?

It was short and started with a ‘D'.

Dan?

No, too ordinary.

Dell?

No, definitely not. I'd remember if Bastian's brother was named after a computer.

Daz?

Yes, that was it. I remembered asking Bastian if Daz was actually a name, or if it was short for something. Apparently, it was a name. The brothers must have had interesting parents to choose such an unusual name for their first son, but the one time I asked about Bastian's parents, he got so quiet that I never dared ask again.

Bastian claimed he and his brother were close. Surely at least Daz should be here to support Bastian through his injuries.

Unless Daz didn't know.

Quickly turning toward the computer, I looked up Bastian's file. He was listed as unnamed. Whatever had happened to Bastian, no one knew who he was, which meant no one had contacted anyone for him.

I didn't have Daz's number, but I did have the number for Alias Investigations, the PI firm that Bastian ran with his brother. Hopefully, Daz would pick up, because I didn't know how else to get a hold of him, and it would be hours before I could leave work to visit in person.

The phone hadn't even finished ringing once before it was picked up.

"Bastian? What the hell? Where are you?"

"Um, Daz Roth?"

A moment of silence passed where I could hear the man on the other end of the line breathing heavily. "Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm Newt Clary." It occurred to me that Bastian may not have told Daz about me. I didn't even know if Bastian was out to his family. Getting a call in the middle of the night from a hospital would be a traumatic way for the man to find out about his brother's sexuality.

Luckily, Daz put my fears to rest with his next sentence.

"You're the guy Bastian's been seeing. Is he with you?"

"Well, sort of. He's at the hospital where I work. As a patient. Apparently, there was a car accident. The doctors are working on him now, but he was still unconscious when I saw him."

I could hear shuffling on the other end of the line and the shattering sound of something breaking. Daz cursed and his voice disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he was panting. "What hospital are you at? I'm coming right now."

I told him the name of the hospital and rapidly listed off the address. As soon as I finished speaking, I was met with the sound of a dead line. Staring at the phone for a moment in confusion, I realized he must have hung up. The man had been in such a rush to leave, hopefully, he'd heard the address before he hung up or else he might end up at the wrong hospital.

Less than ten minutes later, a man who had to be Daz Roth came running through the door. He looked a lot like Bastian, equally tall and broad with the same intensely dark eyes. The only difference was that Daz's hair lacked the little wave at the front that caused Bastian's bangs to fall across his forehead. Instead, Daz had a short beard that highlighted the cut of his jaw.

I didn't get a chance to speak with the man. Now wasn't the time. As soon as he reached the front desk, he locked eyes with me, like he already recognized me and knew I would give him what he wanted.

I told him Bastian's room number and pointed him in the right direction.

With a nod of thanks, Daz took off down the hall, slowing down just enough to technically be walking instead of running.

I breathed half a sigh of relief. Not a full sigh. Bastian was still injured, but at least there was someone with him now.

The rest of my shift passed by in a blur. Thinking back on it later, I wouldn't even remember the next few hours. It was like I blinked, and suddenly, I was off the clock and standing outside Bastian's room.

The elation I felt when I saw that Bastian was awake could have sent me floating above the clouds. If I could bottle that emotion and store it for later, I would never need to walk again.

Next to Bastian's bed, Daz sat in a chair, bent forward with his elbows on his knees. The man looked tired. They both did, but Bastian was obviously more physically tired while Daz seemed to be suffering from emotional exhaustion.

"We'll talk about this more later," I heard Daz say as I approached.

Bastian's response was uncharacteristically subdued. "D, I'm sorry. I—"

Daz held up a hand to silence him. "No. We'll talk about it later. You lied to me. I didn't know where you were. But... that's not important right now. You need to focus on getting better, and I need to find out who attacked you."

Bastian was too busy looking at his brother to notice me standing in the doorway. It was Daz who saw me first and waved for me to come in.

"Your car has a dashcam. If it can be salvaged, maybe the video will show us something helpful about the other cars. It's a place to start, at least."

Daz turned to leave, but Bastian caught his sleeve. "Let me know what you find out. I want to help."

With the patience of an overworked mother, Daz sighed and pulled Bastian's hand off him before tucking the sheets tighter around his brother.

"The only thing you should be worried about is healing. I'll take care of this." It looked like Bastian was going to argue, but Daz pointed a scolding finger at him. "No. I don't want to hear it. You're on time-out right now. Stay put, and don't go poking your nose into things. It looks like your boyfriend is here to keep you company. Just focus on that, and we'll talk more later."

After saying his piece, Daz left. As we passed each other in the doorway, he patted my shoulder. Although he didn't say anything, that one little gesture felt like acceptance.

With no other people to stand in my way, and Bastian's attention now focused on me, I ran to his bedside.

"Oh my god. What happened? We were just talking on the phone, and then... then you showed up at the hospital like this. They said you were in a car accident."

I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle him or touch him in any way. Based on the notes I read, I knew they had him hooked up to painkillers, but I still didn't want to risk causing him any more harm.

Bastian grabbed my hand and interlaced our fingers. "It wasn't an accident. Someone ran me off the road on purpose."

What followed was a short but horrifying story about a high-speed chase in the rain that ended with Bastian crashing into the river. I practically stopped breathing until Bastian finally concluded the story by describing how he managed to climb onto the riverbank before passing out.

If it had been me in such a situation, I would have died. There was no question about that. I admired his tenacity and his fight to survive, but at that moment all I wanted to do was throw my arms around the man and make sure nothing bad ever happened to him again.

"So, someone really tried to kill you. Have you contacted the police? Do they have any idea who it is? Oh, is this because you're a private investigator? Does it have something to do with one of your cases?"

Bastian tipped his head to the side in thought, then flinched. I'd read in his notes that he had whiplash on top of everything else. Every movement he made was going to hurt for a while.

Still holding onto me with one hand, he used the other to rub the back of his neck. "It might be related to one of our cases, but... there is another possibility." He hesitated, obviously debating with himself over what he was about to say.

I waited in silence for him to come to a decision. We had all the time in the world. I wasn't going anywhere.

"What do you know about the Italian mafia?"

Such an out of the blue question caused my brain to stop working for a moment as I struggled to comprehend what I was being asked.

"Not much. I mean, I've seen the Godfather a few times, but that's probably not accurate."

Bastian shrugged, and even that small movement made him squint against the pain. "I wouldn't know. I could never bring myself to watch the movie. It... it hit too close to home. I need you to understand a few things. Some of which may come as a shock but no matter what you need to keep this information to yourself for our safety. When I was eighteen and Daz was twenty—his real name is actually Damien—our parents were killed by the mafia."

Of all the things I expected to hear, a connection to the mafia was not something I was prepared for. My noncommittal "Oh," probably didn't inspire a lot of confidence, but Bastian kept talking anyway. It was like, once he started explaining, he couldn't stop until he reached the end.

"I don't know what our parents did to get the mafia's attention. If they were innocent, or if they were mixed up in something they shouldn't have been. Whatever the reason, it must have been important for the Mafia Boss, a man named David Russo, to personally kill them himself. My brother and I saw it happen. We were determined to testify against that monster and make him pay for what he did to our parents. It worked. He went to jail, though not for as long as I would have liked. However, as soon as we testified in court, my brother and I became marked men. Russo's men came after us, so we had to go into witness protection."

"At least you had some protection. So that's good, right?" I tried to sound as positive as possible, but Bastian was already shaking his head.

"No. Russo must have had people inside the FBI. He found out where we were and his goons tried to kill us again. Almost succeeded that time. My brother and I went on the run. We hid from both the mafia and the FBI after that. It worked. We stayed alive, and eventually, it seemed like everyone forgot about us. We've managed to live peacefully for years now, but..." He trailed off, lost in memories I could only guess at.

However, I didn't need to guess the end of the story. That was as obvious as the stitches on Bastian's forehead. "Now you're worried that this David Russo Mafia Boss dude has found you again."

Bastian didn't even try to deny it. He just immediately agreed while looking down at our clasped hands. "I know this is a lot, especially after only knowing each other for a week. You didn't sign up for all this. Maybe it's better if we—"

I cut him off before he could finish that thought. "If you're about to break up with me out of some heroic need to protect me, don't. Get that thought out of your head right now." I shook my hand free from his grip, but rather than leave, I leaned closer to hug him as gently as I could.

"I know I don't seem like the strongest person. I'm weird and I'm small. I have no experience with the kind of hardships that you've described. In fact, compared to what you've been through, my life has been pretty easy up until now. However, I'm not such a coward that I would run away from someone who's in danger. People tried to kill you tonight. That's not a reason to leave you. That's a reason to protect you."

When I felt Bastian's arms wrap around my waist to embrace me, I couldn't help myself. I caught his mouth in a kiss. I meant for it to be a chaste gesture, but it ended up being much more passionate than intended.

Bastian must have been about to speak when I kissed him, because his mouth was slightly open. My tongue automatically slipped between his lips. Bastian gasped, startled at first.

I could understand the reaction. I'd startled myself as well, but I didn't back down. My mouth stayed locked with his, and after a moment, he relaxed into the kiss. His hand even cradled the back of my head and pulled me closer.

I would have preferred our first proper kiss to be when we were both whole and healthy, but a kiss was still a kiss. Just as I'd expected, Bastian was an excellent kisser. He was gentle, yet demanding as he tipped my head to the side so he could devour me properly. I felt the thrill of it all the way down to my toes and moaned against his mouth.

When we needed to breathe, we parted as little as possible so that our lips continued to brush. Then, once we'd caught our breath, we came together again, even more desperate than before.

There was no telling how long the kiss lasted. The only thing that mattered was that Bastian was here, in my arms, and not dead at the bottom of a river somewhere.

Eventually, we reached a point where we either had to stop, or risk getting kicked out of the hospital for indecent exposure. We pulled apart and I sat up straight. Most of my hair had broken free from its ponytail to hang messily around my face. It didn't even really count as a ponytail, just a tuft of hair at the back of my head. Frankie called it my rabbit tail, and I had to admit the description fit.

One day I would have to either cut it or commit to growing it long.

Still breathing heavily, I finger-combed my hair back into some semblance of order, though there was nothing I could do about my swollen lips or the blush staining my face. Anyone who looked at me would instantly know I'd just been kissed within an inch of my life.

I tried to speak, but my voice came out in an embarrassing squeak. Clearing my throat, I tried again with slightly better results.

"I don't have a lot to offer. I can't fight off the bad guys for you. But I am a nurse, and you're injured. Those two things go hand in hand. So, while I may not be able to protect you, I can at least help you with your wounds."

For the first time since arriving at the hospital, Bastian smiled. "Oh, really. You're going to be my personal nurse? I'm honored."

"You better be honored. I don't offer this kind of service to just anyone." I propped myself up against the pillow next to him and leaned my head on his shoulder, one of the few places I knew he wasn't injured. "Just so you know, Mr. Roth, I don't play nurse for free. I expect compensation. Preferably in the form of more kisses."

My head jostled when he laughed. He tried to hide his gasp as the movement aggravated his injuries, but I still heard.

We both silently agreed not to mention how much pain he was obviously in and continued our charade that everything was fine.

"More kisses?" he said when his painful laughter died down. "I can do that. Though, I might have something better."

"Better? What could possibly be better?"

He smirked at me, and for a moment he looked just as carefree as our first date. "Mirrors."

The baffled look I gave him nearly sent him into another laughing fit.

"Ha, ha. Ow. Ha. Stop looking at me like that. It's too cute. I can't handle it right now."

"I think I need to call the doctor. You might be concussed, because you're talking nonsense, Bastian."

With one hand he tipped my chin up. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but instead he just let our foreheads rest against each other.

"Sebastian. My real name is actually Sebastian. It's not nonsense. That clue I gave you about the level you can't beat. The answer is mirrors. You have to inspect each mirror in the level. One of them has a secret message written on it that you'll reveal by breathing on the glass." He flashed me a cocky grin.

"Oh. Sebastian. I like that. Thank you for sharing that with me. Hmm, breathe on yourself," I repeated his earlier clue. "I see now. You think you're so clever. Don't you, Sebastian?" I flashed him a smile, his name on my tongue feeling right somehow.

"Well, one of us is lying injured in a hospital bed, and one of us isn't. So, I'm clearly not that clever."

From that point on, the conversation remained casual. We had some very serious discussions waiting for us in our future, but now was not the time for that. Now was the time for relaxing, enjoying each other's company, and being grateful that we were both alive.

And I was. No one could say I wasn't grateful that Sebastian had survived.

Yet, a part of me wished that we could turn back the clock to just a few hours ago, when beating a level in a video game was the only thing we had to worry about.