Page 64 of Carry On
A second shattering crash was more than enough for me to get my ass in gear. I hurried out into the living room to find Nash on the ground, sitting around a broken lamp.
“Fuck,” I muttered. Doing my best not to step on glass in the dark, I made my way around the mess to turn on the kitchen overhead light. The open floor plan made it easy to flood the space with enough light to see everything.
Nash moaned at the brightness and buried his face in his hands. Fuck, the migraine was worse than I expected.
“Okay, okay,” I said softly, doing my best to be heard but not too loud. “Don’t move, okay? Don’t move. I’ve got you.”
I made fast work of sweeping everything up—at least everything I could see. I’d have to move around the furniture and area rug later to make sure I didn’t miss anything. As soon as it was clear, Nash was stumbling to his feet. I caught him around the waist as he swayed.
“I’m fine,” he snapped.
“You’re not fine,” I retorted.
“I’m fine!”
“You’re not!”
“I’m—”
“You’re not fine, Nash,” I interrupted once more. I wasn’t about to let him talk me out of taking him to the hospital. Not when he could barely stand.
“I’m…” He shook his head with the smallest of sounds. It killed me. “I’m not okay.”
His voice was so soft that I barely heard the words. He sagged against me, his head falling to my shoulder. Slipping an arm around his waist, I accepted the brunt of his weight. I was grateful his fight waned, but I hated seeing him like this. The little moan he let out was pathetic and coiled around my heart viciously.
“You need help, Nash,” I told him. “You can barely stand. Either you let me take you to the ER, or I’m calling for an ambulance to take you.”
“Fine,” he relented.
Thank fuck because I was fairly certain that if I tried to get paramedics involved, it’d get ugly fast.
The nearest hospital was a different one from the last time, and yet, they knew him. Several administrative members and nurses recognized him when I brought him in. He still didn’t have insurance, which I could tell had them hesitant, like it was more important that they made money than helped someone who needed it. I had to practically throw my card at them to get the process moving along and get us into a room.
The first nurse who walked in was almost thrilled to see him. That bothered me. A big grin lit up his face when he saw Nash on the bed.
“It’s my favorite frequent flyer!” the nurse greeted cheerfully. Nash groaned and hid his face in the crook of his elbow. I scowled. His loudness was unnecessary. “Ah, don’t worry, buddy. I’m just messing with you. You had me worried for a bit there since I haven’t seen you in so long, but it’s all good. It’s all good. And who are you?”
He interrupted his own tangent to stare expectantly at me.
“I’m his husband,” I said. I stood next to the bed, arms crossed and mood shot.
“Man!” His volume grew as he slapped Nash on the shoulder hard. My frown deepened to a scowl. This motherfucker. I didn’t care how happy he was. I was about to hand him his ass if he kept pushing Nash so hard. “You had us all worried up in here, and meanwhile, you went and got yourself married. And to a hot one too.”
“Yup,” Nash muttered in agreement. “Shut the fuck up, Marco. You’re too goddamn loud.”
“Okay, okay,” he relented. Thankfully, his volume dropped significantly while he grabbed the monitor stand and rolled it next to the bed. “I feel you, buddy. I feel you. I’m just glad it’s all good things, you know?”
“Marco,” Nash growled. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly as he let Marco take his vitals. From the agonized look on his face, he couldn’t squeeze his eyes shut hard enough. Silently, I unzipped my sweater and folded it before gently laying it over his face to help. His hand came up fast, grabbing mine. As I went to pull away and let him take over holding the sweatshirt in place, his fingers tightened in a silent plea for me to stay.
And so I did, my fingers laced through his, and tried not to think too hard on it. Everyone needed comfort when they were at their worst.
CHAPTER 46
NASH
Iwasnumbandheavy,my body a foreign thing I struggled to keep control of as I trailed after Lincoln back into his condo. We’d spent hours in the ER, and most of that, I was in and out of it thanks to the drugs. I fucking hated them.
They took away the pain, but I barely recognized myself on them. I hated anything that took away my inhibitions. Yeah, I drank to quiet the voice in my head, but I was never drunk out of my mind. I couldn’t handle it.
