NASH AND Adam had been at the hospital for an hour already. The ER was slammed, and it would still be a long while before they were able to clear. The nurses were worked off their feet, and the doctors couldn’t keep up. The system had failed them once again, with inadequate staff to handle the number of patients, but the woman they’d brought in with dementia-type symptoms likely had a UTI. It was nothing a course of antibiotics wouldn’t take care of.
Since it was probable she wasn’t going to die in the next half hour, Adam and Nash were stuck waiting.
“Go get some coffee while you have a chance. I’ll babysit the patient,” Adam said.
Nash glanced at his watch and noticed it was already close to eleven.
“Thanks. Can I grab you one too? Something to eat?”
“Sure. Whatever doesn’t look like it’s going to give me food poisoning.”
“The seafood salad, then?”
Adam chuckled. “Sure. But if I puke in the ambulance, I’m not cleaning it up.”
“Got it,” Nash said, turning and heading for the coffee cart.
As he crossed the foyer, he saw Sam walking toward him.
“Hey,” Sam said as he approached, coming to stand behind Nash in line. “Busy day?”
Nash turned more fully toward him. “It has been, but nothing too serious.”
“Careful, or you’ll jinx yourself.”
“Adam’s in treat and release with the patient, but you should go say hello if you want,” Nash said.
“Maybe I will. How are things going with you and Ford?”
The line moved forward, and Nash got the distinct impression that Sam’s question was not as nonchalant as his tone suggested.
“Good, actually.” He didn’t want to give away more than he should. Sam might be Ford’s best friend, but if he wanted to know details of what was going on between Ford and Nash, he was going to have to get them from Ford.
“Without sounding like too much of a dick big brother, you need to know that if you fuck him over, I will hunt you down. And trust me when I tell you, I know how to make it look like an accident.”
Nash chuckled. “I will keep that in mind. I don’t have any immediate plans, so I think my life is safe for now.”
Sam’s eyebrows knit together, his expression becoming more serious. “All joking aside… he seems tough and like everything rolls off him. He likes to play as though his love life is no big deal and he doesn’t care, but he was hurt pretty badly….”
“He told me about his ex.”
“He did?” Sam sounded surprised.
“Yeah. Maybe you can give me a few pointers on how to make it look like an accident for the next time I see him. I’ve never hated a total stranger more than I hate that guy.”
“He told you who it was?”
Nash hesitated. “Uh, yeah.”
“Oh.”
The conversation took a turn for the deeply awkward then. From the look on Sam’s face, Nash figured Ford never told him it was Peter. A flame of pride lit in his chest that Ford trusted him enough to confide that information in him… although Ford had been drunk at the time. But still, it meant something.
Nash grabbed their coffees and two relatively safe-looking sandwiches before he said good-bye to Sam and returned to where Adam was still waiting with the patient.
WHAT HAD been a routine day at work had quickly turned, becoming one of the worst days Nash had experienced since he’d become a paramedic. The sheer volume of blood he’d seen that afternoon alone would make Stephen King queasy. A drug-induced psychosis had followed a fatal MVA, which had come on the heels of severed hand at a tile factory. The icing on the cake had been the stabbing in Pigeon Park.
He felt beaten and broken down, close to hitting the wall. The end of his shift was minutes away when dispatch sent them another call, launching them into overtime.
Adam drove, trying to force the ambulance through the gridlock traffic that locked up the downtown core. Like a salmon swimming upstream, they made their way code three—lights flashing and sirens blaring—toward a woman who’d been assaulted by her husband. Apparently the neighbor had called it in. The cops were on their way as well, but no one knew the extent of the injuries.
Nash hated doing the domestic calls, and he could feel his mood dipping as quickly as his energy levels. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. Ford answered a moment later, and although Nash could barely hear him say hello over the piercing sound of the sirens, even obscured, his voice held the power to soothe Nash’s ragged edges.
“Are you okay?” Ford asked, clearly hearing the weariness in Nash’s tone.
“Yeah… just, can you do me a favor? Please?”
“What do you need?”
“I’m not going to be off for a while, but when I get home, could you be there? Please?” Nash took a deep breath, not caring that Adam could hear his conversation with Ford, that he could hear how vulnerable Nash sounded. He’d seen Ford the day before, but it never seemed to be enough.
“I can do that.”
“My neighbor can buzz you in. Number 702. I’ll text her and let her know you’re coming. She’s got a key.”
“Okay.”
Nash hung up, feeling infinitely better, knowing Ford would be there when he walked in the door.
THE SCENE was a grisly one when they arrived, the cops beating them there by a few minutes. There were two squad cars parked outside the residence, making it easy for Adam to find the house they were looking for. Blue and white lit up the dark neighborhood as Adam parked the ambulance on the street in front of the house.
They grabbed their gear and marched up the steps, finding two officers inside and a woman who was bleeding profusely from the head in the living room. Next to her sat a little girl, maybe six years old. Even from across the room, Nash could see the bruise forming beneath her eye and the blood seeping from her split lip. She was crying and clinging to her mother.
Nash rushed over, but he’d barely made it three steps into the room when he heard another officer yelling from somewhere in the house.
“The basement,” said the guy holding the woman’s shoulder. He gestured with his thumb toward what looked to be the kitchen. “Third vic, way worse off than these two.”
“Got it.” Adam turned and walked ahead of Nash toward the other officer’s voice as Nash called dispatch to request a second unit for backup.
The kitchen was empty, but they quickly realized there was a door open to the basement. Peering through, they saw the third victim, crumpled at the bottom of a set of very steep concrete stairs. There was an officer standing over him, pale, eyes wide. He was young—too young to have spent much time on the job—and Nash figured from the expression on his face, what waited for them at the bottom wasn’t going to be good.
They hurried down, lugging their kits with them, careful not to jostle the man who lay unconscious as they climbed over him to get a better view.
“What the fuck happened?” Adam asked, dumping his kit on the floor and getting to work. Nash looked around for an alternate exit. Getting the guy back up the stairs on the spinal board was not going to be easy.
“Best we can tell is that it started out as a domestic abuse call. The wife is upstairs, and the story she’s giving us is that this guy has been hitting her for as long as she can remember. Tonight he decided to add his daughter into the mix. According to the wife, it was the first time he’s ever laid a hand on her, but she said it was going to be the last time.”
Nash was glad Adam was taking lead on the call. He pushed down the anger that was clouding his vision. The guy was a piece of shit, and the woman would be better off if he didn’t pull through, but the privilege of playing God wasn’t something Nash had. What he did have was a job to do, and although he wanted to kick the guy a few times for good measure, he needed to put everything he could into saving his life.
Sometimes the job sucked.
“She pushed him down the stairs?” Adam asked.
“She got a few good hits in with her marble rolling pin first, but I think most of the injuries are from the stairs,” the cop said.
Nash took an inventory of the man’s injuries, and right away, he knew the outlook wasn’t a positive one.
“We got this for now,” Adam said to the cop. “Can you go upstairs and see if the wife can give us his name, birthday, and health number?”
The cop nodded and scampered toward a door Nash hadn’t noticed. When he flung it open, Nash saw the staircase leading to the backyard. It looked to be wider and less steep than the one where they were currently perched. That would be their route of extraction.
The man was breathing, and they managed to get the hard collar on him, but Nash wasn’t sure how much good it would do. There was an obvious indent on one side of his head where his skull had partially collapsed. The blood seeping from his ears was not a good sign.
If they were going to save his life, they needed to get him to the hospital.
The cop returned a moment later with the required information, and Adam let him know the other crew would be there soon to deal with the wife and daughter.
As they loaded him onto the spine board, the man moved, his arms tight and his wrists bent in at uncomfortable angles, and Nash knew even if the man lived he’d never be the same again.
Good, he thought. Score one for karma.
They packaged up the man as quickly as they could and carried him up the back stairs and out the front gate to the ambulance. Loading him quickly, they secured everything, and Adam climbed into the driver’s seat. A moment later they were speeding toward the hospital in an attempt to save the life of a man who should have died at the bottom of his basement stairs.
IT FELT as though the elevator took ten years to reach the seventh floor. Nash wanted a beer, a shower, and Ford—not necessarily in that order.
The apartment was dark when he got there, and Ford was nowhere to be seen, with no trace that he’d ever been there. Suddenly Nash’s exhaustion tripled, and more than he wanted a shower and a beer, he wanted to sleep.
Trudging to the bedroom, he didn’t bother with the lights, and he sat down on the end of the bed to unlace his boots.
He felt the mattress dip behind him, and he sat up straight as he felt warm arms slide around him and Ford’s mouth press against the side of his neck. Nash leaned into the touch, never more grateful to have Ford in his life than he was in that moment. Nimble fingers slid his uniform buttons free one by one as Ford continued his soft kisses from behind.
Nash closed his eyes and let himself enjoy Ford taking care of him like this.
“Rough day?”
The words were spoken against the curve of Nash’s shoulder, and the sensation of Ford’s warm breath on his skin made him shiver.
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little shaky.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.” Nash turned, and then Ford’s mouth covered his. He kissed him deep, letting the taste of him melt away the stress of the shift until all that was left was warmth and comfort and the heat growing between them.
Ford pushed Nash’s shirt off over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before he unclasped the heavy-duty belt and button that held Nash’s thick pants closed.
In seconds Nash was undressed, and having shed the uniform, the weight of the day fell with it. He felt instantly lighter. He reached for Ford, realizing he’d been naked the whole time. His body was loose and pliant.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” Nash said.
“I’m not,” Ford replied before taking Nash by the hand and leading him to the bathroom.
He turned on the shower, the steam rising from the hot water and filling the small space. They were fogged in, and Nash never wanted to leave.
Ford stepped in with him, his hands gliding over Nash’s wet skin as the water beat down on his aching shoulders. Ford’s fingertips caressed the planes and grooves of his body, soothing away the remaining stress and replacing it with a deep, unbroken kind of happiness.
By the time Ford turned off the taps and handed Nash a clean towel, Nash felt like a different person. The blood and the suffering receded into distant, foggy memories. In their place was Ford—the way he felt pressed against Nash, the way his hands felt on Nash’s skin, the way he smelled and tasted and the sounds he made.
It was exactly what Nash had hoped for when he’d asked Ford to be there. He soothed away the ragged edges and made everything infinitely better.
They dried off and looped their towels over the hook behind the door. Back in the bedroom, shadows blanketed everything, but Nash could still see Ford, his pale skin visible in the dim light. He felt as though he’d always see Ford, light or not. He was magnetic.
He crawled onto the bed, and Nash covered Ford’s body with his own.
Ford arched into him, and Nash nuzzled against Ford’s neck. It was slow and sweet, and the tension built gradually. They’d both been soft in the shower, seeking comfort in their closeness rather than the usual erotic slide of slick skin meant to tease and arouse. Ford lay facedown, pinned beneath him, and as it always did, Nash’s desire for him took over.
Nash planted his hands on the mattress and pushed up to kneeling.
“Turn over. I want to see you,” he said, the words thick and low in the darkness.
Ford did as he was asked, flipping over to lie back against the soft duvet. His face showed strength and vulnerability in equal measure, but above all, Nash could see the emotion simmering there, that yet unnamed feeling that filled Nash’s heart too.
“Thank you for being here,” Nash said, staring down into Ford’s eyes. “I really needed you tonight.”
“You’ve got me,” Ford replied.
Nash dipped his head and kissed him, felt the fullness of Ford’s erection at his hip. They kissed for what could have been hours, so wrapped up in each other they didn’t notice the passage of time.
Ford reached up, pushing gently at Nash’s shoulder. Nash understood, slipping an arm beneath Ford to keep them together as he rolled them. Ford bent his knees, bringing them on either side of Nash’s thighs, straddling him. He leaned over and grabbed the lube from the bedside table, then poured some on his fingers. He met Nash’s eyes as he reached behind and slicked himself up.
He rose, sliding his hand along Nash’s cock and guiding it into place before sinking down. Nash was swallowed up by Ford’s body, intense heat, and smooth tightness as he pushed inside. He forced his eyes to stay open, to watch Ford’s face as he adjusted to being filled.
His head fell back and his eyes shut, pleasure written over his whole body, and he began to move. Slowly at first, he rose and fell, like a wave on the sea. The rhythm was slow, languid, and it gave Nash time to appreciate how beautiful Ford was, how good he felt in his arms as Nash pulled him down to bring him closer.
His lips found Nash’s, the gentle tangle of breath right before building anticipation to the kiss. He poured everything he had into it, the dam of emotions breaking as he realized that this was it for him.
Ford was it for him.
He could feel his orgasm approaching, knew Ford was getting close too. He had memorized the signs now, understood how to read his body. Reaching between them, he wrapped his fist around Ford’s cock, stroking the way he knew Ford liked best. Ford moaned at his touch and held still, Nash seizing control. Feet planted on the bed, he bucked up, sliding into Ford, taking over the rhythm that had stalled out a moment before.
Pleasure broke over them both, pulling them under until Nash felt like he’d drown in it. He came hard, emptying into Ford’s body as Ford shot over his stomach. Heat spread between them, and Nash had a hard time catching his breath, more for the beauty of Ford when he came than the physical exertion of getting him there.
They stilled, Nash inside Ford, come cooling on their skin, breaths evening out. Nash held him close and sat up, slipping free but keeping Ford in his lap, Ford’s legs wrapped around Nash’s back. Nash reached up and cupped Ford’s face with one hand.
“I love you,” Nash said, head tilted up to look into Ford’s eyes.
Ford didn’t say anything. Instead he wrapped his arms tighter around Nash and kissed him hard, and that was enough for Nash.