Page 1 of Coming to Grips
Chapter One
Kyle Adams rushes down the wide hospital corridor looking for Room 330. The antiseptic smell attacks his nose and his gut churns some more. As long as he focuses on the thick blue line at his feet, he might make it to Chase’s room with his stomach contents intact.
God, he hates hospitals. The building had wavered in front of his eyes for a good fifteen minutes while he sat and stared at it, fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel, deep breathing and talking himself out of making the forty-five-minute drive back to the ranch.
If it had been anyone besides Chase, he’d have stayed the hell away and welcomed them home when they arrived. But Chase—Chase is his best friend and, well, he’s more than that, even if he doesn’t know it.
Of course, Kyle knows Chase is all right, relatively speaking. A concussion and some sort of damage to his arm. He’ll be released tomorrow, so it can’t be all that bad. But still. Kyle’s heart pounds, and the Sahara has nothing on his throat at the moment, as all his bad memories of trips to the hospital fight against his worry about Chase.
But Chase is fine. Kyle himself is fine. His mother is fine. His little brothers are fine. And his bastard of a father is dead. He stops several feet from Chase’s door and bends over, braces his hands on his knees, and takes a handful of breaths. He’s so close, he can do this. Will do this.
Straightening, he takes the last few steps and knocks lightly on the door.
The door opens slowly and Josh McKinnon, one of the ranch foremen, motions him in. “He’s still a bit out of it, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”
Kyle takes a few steps inside and sucks in a breath, his heart going into overdrive. Chase’s discolored face brings back a rush of dark memories, but he pushes them aside with a shake of his head. He takes several deep breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth. A horse had done this—a frightened creature, not an angry bully of a man.
“You all right, man?” asks Josh, bushy eyebrows rising above his steel-colored eyes.
Kyle shakes his head, then nods. This isn’t about him. “I’m okay. Yeah. I’m fine.” He takes a couple more breaths, and his heart resumes a semi-normal rhythm. He searches out Chase’s gaze.
The greenish-gold of Chase’s eyes is clouded. Whether it’s concern or pain meds, Kyle’s not sure. The wrinkles along Chase’s forehead though...definitely worry. Chase knows what it had taken Kyle to show up. Kyle nods. “I’m fine,” he says.
You sure?Chase asks by raising his eyebrows.
Kyle nods once, then again. Yeah, now that he’s here, now that he’s seen Chase, he’s okay.
Kyle rakes a hand through his dusty hair and shrugs. He’d been in such a hurry to see Chase with his own eyes, he hadn’t bothered going back to the cabin and showering. He’d left his hat in the truck, though; he feels kinda naked without it.
Kyle touches Chase’s knee through the thin white sheet and lightweight blanket covering him. A sprinkling of dirt covers his hair and the crease of his neck and elbows. “Hey, man, you look like crap.”
Chase’s left temple and cheek are reddish purplish and swollen. A couple of stitches hold together a small cut above his left eyebrow. An IV pokes out of his left hand. His right arm displays the same colors as his cheek and is almost twice as big around as the left.
God, he wants to take Chase’s hand, hold it, offer comfort, like any significant other might. But that’s not who they are. Kyle clenches his fists against his thighs. Chase would freak, but Kyle’s feelings are getting harder and harder to hide. He’s never seen Chase even so much as glance at another man, but he’d bet even money Chase isn’t completely straight. But if Kyle crosses the line from best friend to more than friend and things don’t work out, then Kyle will have ruined the one thing in his life he cherishes above everything else.
“I’ve had better days,” Chase says with a bit of a slur. They must’ve given him something for the pain, hence the IV. The quickest and easiest way to administer drugs.
“I’m going to head back,” says Josh, startling Kyle. He’d been so quiet in the background. “Someone will be here tomorrow to get you back to the ranch.”
Chase nods, and a moment later, he and Kyle are alone.
Kyle’s never been so glad that he and Chase opted to live in one of the ranch-owned cabins. Kyle will be relatively close by during Chase’s recovery.
“Dude, you scared the fucking piss out of me,” says Kyle, raking his hands through his hair. Not even going toe-to-toe with his old man at the age of seventeen had shaken him this badly. The time between getting the call about Chase’s injury and walking through that door a few minutes ago had been the longest two and a half hours of his life, even knowing that Chase didn’t have any life-threatening injuries.
“Sorry.”
“Hey, not your fault.” Kyle takes a breath to calm his once-again racing heart. He eyes Chase’s hand lying inert on his lap. “So what’s the prognosis?”
Chase scowls at the offending appendage. “Temporary nerve damage. They say I’ll be out of commission anywhere from six to twelve weeks, and I’ll need physical therapy three days a week.”
“Ugh, yeah, that sucks, man, but don’t worry so much. I’ve got vacation coming—”
Wide hazel eyes look at him in surprise. “Hell no, Kyle. You’re gonna go toTrekstravaganza. You’ve been saving up for that. Looking forward to it. You can’t give that up for me.”
Not giving it up isn’t an option. Chase is his heart, even if he’s clueless, and Kyle shrugs. “It’s a no-brainer. You’re more important than a science fiction con even if the guy playing Jake Sisko fromDeep Space Nineis going to be there. There’ll be another one next July.” He grins and Chase shakes his head. “I’ll drive you to rehab. Wipe your ass. Whatever you need. I’ve got your back.”
A faint flush colors Chase’s cheeks and he looks away. Embarrassment looks charming on him and Kyle’s heart thumps hard.
