It was the same information the nurse had given me, but it still wouldn’t sink in. The gaps in my memory were obscene. The last thing I remembered was Billy storming out of the cottage. How could it be that I’d missed everything in between?
The doctor asked me more questions about how I was feeling, then instructed me to keep breathing the oxygen and sleep as much as I could. The only two things I was apparently capable of, as I didn’t stay awake long enough to hear him leave.
The next time I woke up, Mia was curled up in the brown leather chair. Her hair was a riot, and I mumbled out a laugh that made her shoulder sag with obvious relief. “Fucking hell, Gus. Do you think we could have six months without one of you boys ending up in this place?”
“Nice to see you too.”
“Shut up. If you weren’t so banged up already I’d kill you myself.”
Her spiky edges were as comforting as a hug. And I felt a million times better than I had when I’d last opened my eyes.
I sat up cautiously and held out my hand.
She took it and dug her nails into my palm. “You lucky bastard. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for Billy. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. The nurse told me, and the doctor. What happened? I don’t remember—” I broke off with a cough.
Mia brought a glass of tepid water to my lips and helped me drink.
It stayed down. For the first time in however long it had been, my stomach didn’t rebel. I drank some more, then lay back on the bed.
Mia rubbed my arm. “Are you okay?”
“No. I’m a mess.”
“You nearly died, brother.”
“I don’t just mean that.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I’m guessing, seeing as Billy is a mess too. Things really got on top of you two, didn’t they?”
“I think so. My head’s too fuzzy for me to explain it.”
“You don’t need to explain it. At least not to me. And definitely not the details. I don’t need a visual of what you and Billy have been doing to each other.”
Neither did I right then, but even a carbon monoxide hangover couldn’t stop the rush of warmth that filled my chest when I thought of Billy. It was as though I’d flipped a switch and erased the angsty week we’d just lived through, and we were still riding the magical nights we’d spent in my bed. “I need to see him.”
“I know. But he needed to sleep, and eat. He was sick all night too.”
“How bad?”
Mia shrugged. “Not as bad as you, and he doesn’t have a concussion, but he didn’t look so hot.”
My chest hurt, but the doctor had warned me to expect it, along with the constant nausea, fatigue, and a skull-crushing headache. Oh, and memory loss, confusion, and stiff muscles.
I closed my eyes for a bit. Sometime later, they moved me to a different ward and kicked Mia out.
“I’ll be back for afternoon visiting hours.”
I shifted awkwardly onto my side, trailing the oxygen tubes and the IV with me. “Don’t bother if you’re knackered. Get some rest. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yeah well. You could’ve told me that twelve hours ago when I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry.”
Mia sighed. “Me too. About everything. I shouldn’t have ripped your head off about Billy last week. I was just worried about Luke.”
“I know that. You told me on the phone when you apologised a week ago. We don’t need to go over it again.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. I don’t have it in me to argue with you right now. Just leave it, okay?”
“What about Billy?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I shrugged, and Mia left. A doctor came past, cranked up my oxygen, and told me to rest. I passed out for a few hours, and when I woke up, I was still alone with Billy on my mind.
It seemed fitting somehow. I couldn’t clearly remember how we’d left things, or why. Just that it was a royal mess that was making us both miserable, and we were running out of chances to fix it.
“Do you want something to eat?”
I blinked. A hospital worker was at the end of my bed. “Hmm?”
“It’s lunchtime. You didn’t order anything, but I can get you a sandwich if you like?”
“Nah. You’re all right. Thank you.”
“Sure? You need to keep your strength up.”
Logic told me she was right, but I could already smell the food being distributed on the ward, and I was pretty sure that even in my pre-carbon-monoxide days, I’d have turned it down. As it was, food was the last thing on my mind. Actually, no. That wasn’t true. After hours and hours of purging, my stomach was painfully empty, but for once I welcomed the sensation of being hungry. With my heart in tatters, it reminded me I was alive.
I lay back on the bed, trying to ignore the fact that I needed a piss. Standing up felt like scaling a mountain, and the vertigo a passing doctor had mentioned was no joke. I rubbed my stomach and closed my eyes. Behind my eyelids, the world stopped rocking, and Billy filled my mind. I pushed away memories of his anger and frustration and pictured him in the lake in the woods, naked and laughing. And in my kitchen, grinning as I demolished his latest attempt to cook real food.
My belly hurt, and my heart did too. And my brain played tricks on me. Beyond the cool blast of oxygen, I smelt Billy’s lemon shampoo and French washing powder, and my dreams made me cry.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Billy
Luke held me hostage all day. He fed me soup and paracetamol and made me sleep. I tried to stay awake so I could sneak out when he finally gave in and dozed off too, but his military years gave him the edge, and I was out cold long before him.
It was
