Liability (Suncoast Society #33)(75)

Mason had closed his eyes, but at Cole’s touch opened them again and looked at him.

The nurse brought in a cup of water and sponge swab. “Don’t give him anything to drink yet,” she cautioned. “But you can wet his lips with that, and dab a little in his mouth.”

Tilly had brought in a couple of tubes of lip balm that they’d been using to keep Mason’s lips from getting chapped.

Cole struggled not to cry. He knew he’d need to be strong for Mason now. “Hey, buddy,” he softly said. “Pet’s at home asleep. I thought about waking her up, but I’m going to be selfish, and she needs the sleep.”

He reached over and stroked Mason’s hair with one hand, maintaining his grip on Mason’s hand with the other. Maybe now that he was on the mend, they’d be able to give him a real bath, with running water, instead of the dry shampoo they’d been able to use in his hair, and even then only over the past couple of days. The doctors hadn’t wanted any of that done to him early on, wanting him to remain as still as possible.

Cole had used a cordless electric razor on Mason a couple of times, trying to keep the stubble down to a minimum. He was due for another shave, and now they could get his full face.

“Squeeze my hand for me, please?” Cole whispered. “I know talking’s going to be hard right now, but squeeze my hand to tell me you love me.”

Faintly, Mason squeezed Cole’s fingers, making Cole smile.

“We’ll get you up and around soon. You just relax and focus on healing.”





Pain.

Holy f*ck, pain the likes of which Mason couldn’t ever remember feeling before in his life. Not even a kidney stone he’d once passed had hurt this f*cking badly, and he’d been convinced he was dying then.

Not just pain, but it felt like he couldn’t even think. Like his brain was wrapped in cotton gauze, and putting together two words was barely possible.

From context, he was able to gather he was in a hospital. Either that, or Hell, except that Hell probably wouldn’t feature Cole sitting next to him.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

He didn’t know how long he lay there, staring at Cole. There’d been nurses and a doctor—again, through context, not actually knowing what the hell had happened—and a vague recollection of coughing.

His left shoulder and arm, especially his wrist, really hurt, but when he tried to move it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move his right arm, either, but he wasn’t sure if that was because Cole had a grip on him or not. He tried wiggling his toes again, and while it seemed he had something on his feet, he could see the sheet moving, feel his toes moving. And when he tried sending orders to his legs, he could move them a little.

Once again he focused on Cole and those blue eyes he loved and tried to figure out what happened. What had happened, obviously. From the look on Cole’s face, the deep lines, the worry, it couldn’t have happened that day.

What day was it, anyway?

He tried to sweep his vision around the room but couldn’t tear himself away from Cole’s gaze.

The last thing he remembered…

He tried to remember what the last thing was he remembered. He could recall some vague, ghostly dreams. Feeling lost. The sound of sirens. Pain. The feeling like he was flying…

Freddie.

Okay. He remembered working, the little f*cker showing up at his door…

Had Freddie done…this to him?

Wait, that wasn’t right.

He took a deep breath, his throat hurting, his chest aching. Dinner.

He was supposed to have dinner with Cole and Kim and the others.

He’d…

Cole was his anchor. He squeezed the man’s hand again despite the pain he felt throughout his body and focused on those blue eyes.

He remembered Friday night. He remembered…

Wanting to talk. Wanting to talk to them about this being permanent. Telling them he loved them.

And then…

Things were fuzzy. Saturday.

His gaze slipped from Cole’s as Mason focused on a whiteboard on the wall behind him. A nurse’s name was written there, but more importantly was something else.

Tuesday.

Trying to do math felt incredibly hard…like scaling a mountain, but he managed it. Three or four days—gone.

Fuck.

So much he wanted to ask Cole, but it felt like he couldn’t talk, too tired to talk, too much energy to expend to make his mouth work right.

He managed to open his mouth a little to flick his dry tongue over his lips. He vaguely tasted cherry.

Cole released his hand, grabbed a cup and a swab, and dampened Mason’s mouth and tongue only enough he could actually swallow.

More was coming into focus.

More pain, unfortunately.

But he was hooked up to IVs, monitors. His head hurt like a motherf*cker and he definitely didn’t want to move that.

He tried licking his lips again and Cole this time produced a stick of lip balm and swiped it over his lips.

Cherry.

One mystery explained.

Mason took a couple of deep breaths and hoped Cole could hear him.

“What…happened?”

Something that looked like rage flashed across the man’s normally placid features, startling Mason into a deeper level of consciousness than even the pain he was feeling.