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Will sat down while Alan asked the usual bank questions.
Twenty minutes later he left the bank with his
brother's money transferred, a shiny new bank account to
go with his new life, and the banker's phone number, the
latter he'd never use.
The gorgeous weather made him decide to walk
instead of calling Cash, ignoring the little voice in his head
whispering he was putting off seeing his lover. Eventually
he'd have to face the truth. His handyman might not be only
a handyman. He would have shrugged off anyone else
making such an accusation, but not his mother. Mrs
Stamson had better instincts than anyone he'd ever met.
How she made a mistake with Will's father he'd never
figure out, but whenever anyone didn't follow her advice,
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things went horribly wrong.
Will had to find a way to nail his lover down on his
real occupation. He pushed all the negativity away as he
enjoyed the afternoon sun warming his back and the scent
of roses in the air.
Turning the corner Will saw the tip of Harriett's
steepled roof. So absorbed in watching his property come
into sight, it took him a moment to recognize the sound of a
car engine growling behind him. Will wasn't too concerned.
Even though there weren't any sidewalks in this part of
town, he was far off to the side and out of the direct path of
cars.
As the sound got closer, he turned just in time to see
a black car barreling towards him. Will didn't have a
chance to get out of the way before the vehicle slammed
into him and he was airborne.
He didn't remember falling to earth. There was only
blackness.
* * * *
The steady beeping woke him.
Blinking, he tried to focus.
Hospital.
What the hell is going on?
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A soft squeezing on his right hand caught his
attention.
Cash sat on an uncomfortable looking chair beside
him. He looked like hell.
"You look like hell," Will told him.
No one had ever accused him of being diplomatic.
He got a faint smile, nowhere close to Cash's usual
brilliance. "You don't look so good yourself."
Struggling to figure out what was going on, he
dropped his suspicions of his lover. "What happened?"
"Some asshole hit you with his car and drove away.
Why were you on the road?"
"I was walking home. There's no sidewalk, and no
one was around."
"Someone was. You should've called me to come
get you. The police think the incident was intentional. Mr
Barnett, four houses down, saw the car aim straight at you.
I heard the ambulance and went to look because the sirens
sounded close. You were lying in the street." Cash's voice
broke at the description. As Will watched, two big tears
drifted down his lover's face. "I thought you were dead."
A long shuddering sob went through Cash. "Never
do that again," he demanded. The order lost some of its
usual command through the tears. Whatever Cash's true
purpose in Will's house, his affection wasn't manufactured.
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If this was acting, Will was ready to nominate him for an
Oscar.
Tentatively he reached out to stroke Cash's head. He
let out a hiss as pain shot through his body.
Cash's head snapped up. "Careful, love. You were
pretty banged up. The doctor said it's a miracle you weren't
seriously injured. They were initially worried about a head
injury. You hit the cement pretty hard, but they say there's
no swelling. You must have a really strong skull," he said
with a faint smile.
Will wiped away a tear Cash missed on his right
cheek. This strong, tough man was truly devastated by his
injury. The reasons behind him staying with Will faded into
insignificance. When he was ready, Cash would reveal his
motives. Until then Will really didn't care. Almost getting
killed changed his priorities.
His eyes snapped back to his lover when the other
man spoke. "By the way, your family is going to be here
soon. I called your mom and told her you'd been injured."
"You called my mom?" He didn't even know Cash
had her number.
Cash nodded. "She gave me her card in case I
needed anything. She was back in Seattle. When I told her
there were no major injuries, she promised to visit when
you recovered. She had a lunch appointment with the
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mayor or something."
In that moment Will realized his mother was
actually trying to get along with whomever he chose as his
partner. Even though she suspected Cash wasn't who he
claimed, she gave him her card anyway in case of
emergency. She might be a cold person, but he knew she
genuinely cared about him. Of course, while handing over
her card, she picked up Cash's magical signature. His
mother had used the same technique more than once to hunt
down someone who tried to cheat a Stamson. His mother's
talent was like a psychic bloodhound. She could track
people through their magical frequency, except Will. He
didn't have one.
"Is my father coming?"
Cash shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't given an
update. She said she'd tell him, but I didn't hear back."
"Huh." With his father's presence, things could go
either way. He knew his father would get away if he could,
but Will hurt too much to care if his father planned to
descend with wife number four. The only positive thing
from this whole encounter was he discovered Cash really
cared about him. Not his money, not his family, but him.
He just wanted Will. It was a refreshing change or a
suspicious one. He hadn't decided.
Before he could say anything irretrievably mushy,
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Dr Mathews came into the room.
"Ah, you're awake, Mr Stamson." He pulled a
penlight out of his pocket to flash in Will's eyes. "Pupils
look normal."
After taking Will's blood pressure and temperature,
he leaned against a cabinet and looked over Will's chart.
"Your vitals look good. I don't know if Cash here
told you the whole story, but you're extremely lucky to
have escaped this with nothing but a hairline fracture on
your collarbone. The bone should heal on its own if you
don't re-damage it." He made sure to meet Will's eyes as if
trying to impress upon him the gravity of the situation.
"Overall you're a very lucky man. There was no head
trauma or internal bleeding. Not bad for a man who was hit
by a car."
Will's nose twitched. The doctor's scent tingled his
sinuses. Strange. Will didn't have any allergies except to
zombies. The scent of the ash used in raising the undead
always caused his sinuses to swell.
Will sneezed.
Dr Mathews gave him a tissue. "A lot of people are
allergic to the cleaning fluid."
"Huh. I'm usually fine with cleaners."
Usually only zombies and flowers made him
sneeze, but he couldn't come out and say such a thing to the
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doctor. Even the most experienced magic user often denied
the existence of zombies. Part of the magical community
genuinely thought the undead would go away if they
weren't acknowledged. Glancing around, he didn't see
flowers or zombies in the room. He'd have to contact his
Seattle doctor about getting some allergy medicine if this
kept up.
"When can I go home?" The quicker he got out of
there the sooner he could breathe again.
"I'd like to get the results back from your last MRI
to make sure there isn't anything we missed, and if
everything looks good, you can go home tomorrow
morning." Dr Mathews looked between Cash and Will, a
strange look crossing his face. "You still have my number.
Let me know if you need anything."
"I'll make sure he gets everything he needs," Cash
growled.
Mathews gave Cash an unfriendly look before
turning back to Will. The doctor gently patted his arm in an
overly familiar manner. Leaning over he said in a low
voice, "Give me a call."
Not looking at Cash, the doctor left the room.
"I'm keeping you in bed forever, and I'm going to
hire a bodyguard with all your fancy money," Cash
growled at his bedside.
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"I've already hired him a nurse with a military
background," a deep voice said from the doorway.
Shit.
His father, Senator Edward Stamson, stood in the
doorway, looking at Cash like he was a particularly stinky
bug he'd found at the bottom of his shoe. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]