my birthday.
“That’s it?”
“Well, you’ll need to deal with the investigation and court, of course. I won’t lie to you. It won’t be pretty. But there is no immediate threat to your life anymore, Michael. That’s a wonderful thing. Go out and celebrate. Or just go for a walk in the city. Enjoy your freedom.” During the whole gruesome process, I’d failed to notice Madsen was actually a nice guy.
“Do you know something about his motive?”
“I doubt I know more than you do at this point. It’s very likely Mr. Hannity will undergo a psychiatric evaluation soon.”
Walking out of the federal building, I took a deep breath, smelling the city. Faint hints of cigarette smoke, gas, a hot dog stand around a corner… Enjoy freedom. I missed the scent of pines and moss, the quiet hum of the lake.
I only wanted to be back by Vincent’s side.
I tried to reconcile myself with my new reality, to find the relief I knew I was supposed to feel. The knowledge a guy who’d fucked me also hired someone to kill me still made me sick. The memory of the dead body on the gravel. The muted sounds of gunshots… It would take me a long time before I’d be able to remember any of it with rational calm. However, on some level, I was relieved it had been Ian. I felt… redeemed. Ian was a psycho, batshit crazy. His obsession with me hadn’t been my fault.
I tried to let the thought permeate my whole being. Not my fault.
You don’t deserve this, Mikey, Vincent had told me—fuck, it felt like such a long time ago. He had been right. I hadn’t deserved any of it, and neither had Vincent.
When I finally made it back to New Haven after endless interrogations and meetings, I headed straight for the hospital. Pushing through the double door, I entered Vincent’s room. It was spacious, a wide window with a view over the park, and only one comfortable bed. Uncle Bart had come through.
Vincent was asleep. They’d told me he’d woken up twice after the surgery, only for a few minutes at a time. The loss of blood had been the main problem, and now he was exhausted.
He’d live, though. He’d recover.
I smiled through the tears as I took in his calm, pale face, lips parted. He snored softly. My chest warmed at that undeniable sign of life.
A small armchair stood against the wall. I pushed it closer to the bed and sat on the edge. I laid my head by his hand, where it rested on the bed and nuzzled his fingers. They twitched in his sleep.
“I love you, Vincent,” I said softly. “I’m yours. You need to get well so you can take care of me. You promised, and I promise to take care of you too.”
He didn’t move, nor did he wake up.
19
His voice
Vincent
“You snore, Vincent.”
It was Michael. Michael’s voice.
“It’s cute, but now it’s time for you to wake up. I’m bored.”
“Mikey?” I tried, but my throat was so dry I only croaked.
“Vincent?”
I couldn’t open my eyes, but I felt his fingers on my cheeks. I smiled. Even the muscles in my face were tired.
“Hey, Vincent. You’re awake.”
“Barely…” I rasped.
“Wait a second. I’ll get you some water.”
A straw tickled my lips, and I caught it. The cold water felt heavenly in my parched mouth.
“Mikey.” My voice was still weak.
A soft kiss on the corner of my lips. “Yes, Daddy?”
I chuckled, but the vibration sent a shock of pain through my shoulder and chest.
“Shh. I’m sorry. Forgive me, Vincent. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, sweet boy. You listened to me. You went to the panic room.”
“I did. I hated it, but I listened.”
“Good boy.”
“I am. I’m a very good boy.” His words were like warm honey. Oh god, I almost lost him. “You need to get well so you can reward me.”
“Where’s your hand?”
His fingers found mine, and I squeezed.
“I’m here, Vincent. I’m not leaving you.”
Michael’s hand in mine, I fell asleep again, feeling no pain.
The second time I woke up, Michael was curled up in the armchair by my bed, asleep. Dark smudges of exhaustion dotted his cheekbones.
He’s safe.
I was so happy to see him I just stared at him for long minutes. However, I couldn’t be stupid and happy forever. He was safe. He didn’t need me anymore.
Michael stretched in the chair, wincing. He must be aching all over from sleeping in an armchair. How long had he been here? What time was it anyway? Which