“Somebody call 911!”

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“Suzanne, let go of your father and call 911.”

“Dan! Babe, move your hand if you can hear me.”

“Blaine, I’ll watch Trent and Angel. You go call 911.”

“SUZANNE! Let go of your father and get me the first aid kit. Your sister and Trent are hurt. I need your help.”

“DAN! Open your eyes, God damn it. Dan! Open. Your. Eyes.”

“Bla---?”

“Stay still, Trent. Blaine’ll be right back.”

“Is . . . ‘kay?”

“Suzanne? Dear God in Heaven that child is worthless. Yes, Trent. Blaine is okay. Just some cuts and bruises. What about you? What hurts? Your head? Your back? Can you feel me touching your legs? Trent? Trent? Trent!”

“SEAN!”

+++++++

Trent cracked one eye open.

“Oh shit. Not a good idea.”

Slamming the eye shut, he moaned, “That wasn’t a good idea either,” and hurriedly swallowed down the bile that threatened to exit his stomach. Vomiting wasn’t high on his priority list. Neither was opening his eyes, moving his eyeballs, or turning his head. Hell, breathing was even overrated. Wonder if he could do without that for a while?

Nope.

Damn.

Minutes passed as Iron Man and Iron Monger duke’d it out in his head. As soon as the battle died down, he attempted the eye opening thing again. “Well, that was a waste of time. Can’t see jack-shit. Can’t see . . . . BLAINE!”

Shouting was also not on his ‘to do’ list and if he could have ripped his head off and pulverized it with a crescent wrench, he would have done so in a heartbeat. Another burst of pain had him rethinking the wrench idea. Medicine, he thought, big time put-you-to-sleep-for-the-next-century medicine was probably the way to go. Unfortunately when he moved his left hand in search of his missing boyfriend, he discovered a whole new world of agony.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Lay still, Trent.”

A familiar voice weaved its way through the fireworks display of pain going off in his head. Trent latched onto it and wept with relief.

“Mrs. A?”

“Lay still, Sweetheart. You’re in the hospital.”

Hospital? What the fuck was going on? Where was . . . . BLAINE!

Before his heartrate could warp into the next galaxy, the soothing voice of his boyfriend’s mother whispered the words he needed to hear.

“Blaine’s okay. He and Suzanne went downstairs to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat.”

“You sure? You’re not lying, are you?” Trent frantically clutched at the hand that came to rest upon his chest. “Mrs. A?”

“Trent, listen to me. Blaine is fine. Somewhat banged up but otherwise, he’s okay. Right now I’m more worried about him dropping from exhaustion. I don’t think he’s slept a wink these past 48 hours.”

“Huh?” Clueless as hell, Trent surrendered his white-knuckle grip in order to investigate the ice pick imbedded in his skull. It was a toss-up which hurt worse, his head or his wrist.

“Dad? Is he . . . ?”

“Your dad is fine. In fact, he just left. The storm ripped loose a section of the roof on your house. He’s gone to pick up an extra tarp to put over the one he jury-rigged earlier.”

Trent offered a brief prayer of gratitude. It was just him and his dad, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost his old man.

“Are you in pain? Want me to call for the nurse?”

“Yes. No.” Trent fought the confusion obscuring his thoughts. Yeah, he needed something for the pain but pain meds meant sleep. There was no way on earth he was going to close his eyes until Blaine returned, and he saw for himself that his boyfriend was alive and breathing.

Speaking of seeing or to be more specific, not seeing.

“Frack me, I can’t see. Am I blind, Mrs. A? Have I lost my eyesight?” The answer better be a big N-O ‘cause if not, he was going to have the world’s worst panic attack on record.

The subdued glow of a light fixture on the wall directly in front of his bed put his hyperventilating lungs on hold. This pleased his aching ribs to no end. “Thank you, Jesus,” he muttered. “I can see.”

His companion chuckled before explaining. “There’s been major damage to the area, Sweetheart. Several sub-stations are down, and the hospital’s running on generators. There’s no telling how long before this place is back online, and the less electricity we use the better.”

The words ‘major damage’ brought back memories of the hurricane with horrific clarity, and his ribs were none too happy when he decided to test exactly how fast his lungs could exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide.

“Trent, it’s okay. The storm is over. You’re okay. Blaine’s okay. Trent, slow down your breathing. Sweetheart, please. No, Trent. You can’t get out of bed. You have a severe concussion. Trent, stay still. Trent! Oh shit. Nurse, Nurse! Come quick. Somebody? I need some help here.”

+++++++

“Hey, Gorgeouse. Show me those sexy eyes of yours.”

“Blaine?” Trent attempted to swallow but the grit cemented to the inside of his mouth prevented him. “Thirsty,” he forced out.

“Here, take a swallow.”

The best damn water in the world dissolved the grit, and he swallowed with gusto. “More,” he begged. The water didn’t return and, just for a moment, panic grabbed hold of him when his ears detected Blaine moving away from the bed. “Budman?”

“Right here, Trent. Drink some more water.”

Instead of reaching for the glass, Trent reached for his boyfriend. Unfortunately, he used his left hand and the pain of his fractured wrist blindsided him. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Blaine rescued him by gently placing his arm back on the stack of pillows lying next to his body. “Gotta keep it elevated and iced. And speaking of iced, where’s your ice pack?”

Trent knew exactly where the ice pack had gotten to but wasn’t about to admit how great it felt resting against his chest. On the other hand, his left tit wasn’t exactly happy about being frozen to death.

“Ah, there it is.” Blaine rescued the MIA compress and placed it back where it belonged. “How’s that feel?”

Trent was about to suggest slicing the entire arm off when his mouth was claimed in a tender kiss. Oh hell yeah, kissing was definitely his drug of choice.

“Damn it, Trent. You scared the shit out of me, us,” Blaine huskily admitted. “It’s been two days and you wouldn’t wake up, no matter what. Yeah, I know the doctor said that was to be expected considering you got hit in the head when the tree crashed down on the house but . . . .”

The hand that cupped the side of his face trembled, and suddenly Trent didn’t care how much the light would hurt his eyes; he had to see his boyfriend.

“Turn the light on, please.”

The pain was so intense his eyes watered, but that didn’t stop him from looking his fill of the person sitting beside him on the bed.

Blaine was also doing some serious gazing despite the visible moisture flooding his eyes. Trent cursed his inability to dry those eyes but that would have meant moving and neither his wrist nor his ribs were in the mood to cooperate. He offered a smile, instead.

“I hope you got the license number of the truck that ran you over.” He examined every inch he could see of Blaine – the dark circles, the bruised cheek, the scratches on his nose and forehead, not to mention neck and arms. He took note of the lank hair, the torn, wrinkled Hanes tee shirt, the --- wait. Weren’t those the same clothes Blaine had been wearing the day of the storm?

“Budman, when was the last time you went home?” Exhaustion was pulling at him in a major way but before he surrendered to sleep he had to make sure Blaine went home and rested. “You look like shit. Go home.” Yawning, Trent risked moving one finger and tapped the knee nudging his hip. “Really, go home. Take a shower and crawl into bed. I promise I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Trent, I can’t leave---”

“Yes, you can. Go home. Sleep, eat, and put on some clean clothes, will ya? Please.” Trent cut short the next yawn when a kiss took possession of his open mouth.

“Are you saying I stink?” Blaine asked with a grin of embarrassment.

“Stink and then some.” Trent licked his lips and frowned when he discovered the taste of blood. His gaze flew to Blaine’s mouth and noted the oozing split on his lower lip. What other injuries had his boyfriend sustained?

“Talk to me, Budman. How bad are you hurt?” Wrestling his right hand free of the covers, he grabbed hold of Blaine’s torn tee and pulled him down to eye level. “Don’t bullshit me. Tell me the truth. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Blaine assured him. “Got some cuts and bruises but nothing serious. Not like---”

Trent nearly bit his tongue in half and his bruised ribcage screamed bloody murder when it was nearly flattened by Blaine’s weight.

“Trent, when that tree . . . the wall . . . I couldn’t get at you . . . you weren’t moving.”

Trent choked back a grunt of pain and wrapped his good arm around Blaine. His boyfriend’s upper torso was quaking with the same fear audible in his voice. Minutes passed as they sought comfort in each other’s arms.

“Hate to end this but . . . .” Trent groaned. “You’re crushing me. Move, okay?”

Blaine obeyed his request but barely. He moved just enough for a measure of space to open up between their bodies. Locking his arms in place, he remained suspended over Trent. “If you’d been sitting on that bench instead of lying on the floor . . . .” Blaine scrunched his eyes shut. “Damn, I have no idea how Dad is handling it. Not knowing if Dan is gonna---”

“Dan?” Exhaustion was replaced with fear, and Trent hurriedly asked, “What about Dan? Blaine? What happened to Dan?” This was the first mention anyone had made of the man. Come to think of it, no one had said a word about Sean either. “Your dad? What about your dad?”

“Dad’s okay. It’s . . . .” Blaine glanced to the side, his eyes filling with moisture again as he gazed toward the darkened window next to the bed. “Dan’s in bad shape, Trent. Critical, in fact. The doctors aren’t sure he’ll make it. Dad’s with him in ICU. Been there since Dan got out of surgery.”

Trent closed his eyes and offered up a heartfelt prayer for the man. Despite everything, he really liked Dan. He’d been there for him during the months when Blaine was away at college in Alabama. They’d struck up a friendship that was relegated to the back burner once his boyfriend returned home. His loyalty was to Blaine, but there was a connection between him and Dan that couldn’t be denied. Like Mrs. A was his second mother, Dan was like a second father to him, a father that understood what it was like to be gay and in love.

Refusing to even consider how much it would hurt to move much less sit upright in a wheelchair for an extended period of time, Trent confessed, “I’d like to go see him if possible. Will you help me, Budman? Next time it’s visiting hours? I know it’ll be late and I probably shouldn’t be out of bed, but would you wheel me down there so I can see how he’s doing? We’ll sneak out for just a few minutes, okay? Quick in, quick out.”

Salt-stained lips settled over his, halting his verbal rambling. He whispered words of reassurance to his emotionally distraught boyfriend. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m good, you’re good. Dan’s gonna make it. I feel it in my gut. We’re gonna survive this. You hear me? We’re gonna get through this.”

With the greatest difficulty, Trent pushed and shoved at Blaine until they were both lying on the bed next to each other. He struggled to keep his eyes open until his boyfriend fell asleep, but lost the battle when exhaustion took hold of him and pushed him over the edge into oblivion. His last thought was of the two men in ICU and the love they desperately clung to despite all obstacles.

“Dear God, don’t take Dan from Sean. He needs him like I need Blaine. They’re our . . . .”

Sleep claimed him before he could finish his plea.

+++++++

Ignoring the fiercely whispered instructions to keep the visit ‘short and sweet,’ Trent squeezed Blaine’s hand and watched him walk out of the room. Only two visitors at a time were allowed in ICU, and Sean wasn’t budging, not that Trent would dare ask him to do so. If the man lying motionless in that bed had been Blaine, no power on earth would have forced him to leave his side.

Trent examined the numerous machines crowding the small cubicle. He stared at the heart monitor and was thankful beyond measure for the steady rhythm marching across its screen. Next to be inspected was the ventilator, and he watched as it forced precious air in and out of weakened lungs. Beside the ventilator was a suction machine that was connected to Dan by a tube inserted in his chest. It was draining what looked like blood, and Trent quickly decided he needed to look elsewhere.

Moving on, he examined the various IV solutions and their regulating pumps. Then there was the urinary drainage bag and a nasogastric tube and the wall suction unit it was hooked to. When he ran out of things to look at, he started with the heart monitor again and kept his eyes focused on it. For some reason he was afraid to look directly at Dan, afraid of what he’d see.

“Visiting hour is a misnomer, Trent,” Sean hoarsely informed him. “It’s only thirty minutes, and you’ve wasted ten of them staring at everything but Dan.” He reached out and patted the white-knuckled hand gripping the bed’s siderail. “Touch him. Talk to him. Let him know you’re here.”

Forcing his hand to relax, Trent transferred his grip to where Dan’s left arm lay motionless on the bed. He had to worm his hand under two wires and one IV line before latching onto bare skin that felt unexpectedly cool and clammy.

“Is he . . . what happened?” An anguished sigh followed by silence was his only answer for the next couple of minutes. He glanced over at Sean and was struck once again at how much he and Blaine looked alike. It was almost as if he were gazing at the same tortured features he’d discovered staring down at him hours earlier.

“I found him half in and half out the back door,” Sean finally explained. “He was buried almost completely under the tree and what was left of the roof. I’m not sure why he ran inside the house and not away. He had to have seen which way the tree was falling.”

“He was coming after you and your family.” Trent squeezed Dan’s arm. “If it had been Blaine inside and me outside, that’s what I would’ve done.” He pinned Sean with a knowing gaze. “You, too. You would’ve moved heaven and earth to get to your loved ones.”

Trent swallowed the lump of emotion choking him. Thinking of Blaine lying in that bed instead of Dan was unbearable, and he closed his eyes to block out the image.

“How is he?” he asked once his emotions were under control.

“Still critical,” Sean answered. “Basically his entire right side was crushed by the weight of the tree. His leg, his hip, his arm are fractured in several places, and the majority of his ribs on that side are also broken. Both lungs suffered severe damage, and one of them collapsed while he was still pinned. They’ve repaired what they could. Took out his spleen, a portion of his . . . .”

Sean’s voice faded and Trent opened his eyes. He caught sight of the tears cascading down the older man’s cheeks. In all the years he’d known Blaine’s dad, he’d only seen him cry once and that was at the funeral for Elizabeth Anne’s twin, Richard. On that day both Sean and Blaine had shed tears for the dead infant.

“Sir?”

Sean abandoned his seat and walked toward the room’s lone window. He planted his hands against the rain-splattered glass and stood there silently, his shoulders visibly shaking.

“They nearly lost him, Trent. Twice. There at the house and in surgery. They almost didn’t get him back the second time, and the doctors believe that’s why Dan’s in a coma.”

Trent was torn for a moment. He didn’t want to release the fragile contact he had with the man struggling to survive but felt it was imperative he offer his support to the one suffering the horrors of nearly losing the love of his life. An aborted sob solved his conflict.

Ignoring the nearly overwhelming dizziness that had plagued him since entering the room, he got up out of the wheelchair and somewhat stumbled over to where Sean was standing. He waited a moment to catch his balance then cautiously touched the older man on his back. Sean’s response was to pull him close and hug the shit out of him. Unfortunately the unexpected embrace was not welcomed by his abused ribs. Trent clamped his mouth shut but a whimper of pain still escaped. Sean immediately let go of him but not before gently hugging him a second time.

“Sorry, Trent.” The older man gazed down at him. “I’ve been so focused on Dan I’ve forgotten there were others injured. How are you doing? Last time Blaine popped in for a visit, he said you were on the mend and would probably be going home tomorrow.”

Clutching at the nearest thing, an IV pole, Trent held on for dear life. The entire room was spinning, not to mention, it hurt like hell to breathe. After a moment, the spinning stopped and instead of seeing two Seans, he saw only one.

‘Do not, I repeat,’ he silently instructed his rubbery legs, ‘do not drop me on my ass. I will not look like a wuss in front of this man. I have to be strong. I have to be . . . fuck!’ Trent calculated the distance to the wheelchair and decided he better stay put.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he cradled his casted wrist against his chest. “They want to x-ray my head again in the morning. The headaches and dizziness will hang around for another week or so, but if the x-ray is okay, there’s no reason I can’t be discharged.” He indicated his left wrist. “Once the head doc releases me the bone guy will schedule surgery on my wrist. They didn’t want to put me to sleep because of the concussion.” He grimaced when a certain part of his anatomy demanded their turn at bat. “And yeah, my ribs will be giving me hell for a while, but it’s nothing that requires surgery.”

“Good,” Sean answered. He ruffled Trent’s hair. “Between worrying about you and Angel and her broken ankle, Blaine’s been a nutcase since the day of the storm.” Looking back at Dan, he added, “Guess he’s more like his old man than he knows.”

Trent followed Sean’s gaze and watched the controlled rise and fall of Dan’s chest. The innocent comment targeted his ever-present insecurity. He knew Blaine loved him despite the fact that he wasn’t anything special. He couldn’t help but think his boyfriend would follow in his father’s footsteps and leave him for greener pastures sometime in the future. He seriously doubted Blaine would take up with a female but if the right guy came by, one that was smart, good-looking – Trent had no doubt he’d be left behind just like Dan.

That particular thought pushed him to ask, “Mr. Matthews, I can see how much you love Dan. Do you mind if I ask why you broke up with him? I mean, if you loved him as much as I love Blaine, how could you turn your back on him and the love you two shared?”

Sean returned to his post at Dan’s bedside and claimed the hand that wore a simple gold band on its ring finger. Trent realized he’d never noticed the ring before today.

“I’ve been waiting for one of you to ask me that question since the moment Dan moved in with us.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s not what you think.” Sean carefully carded his fingers through Dan’s bangs before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his bare forehead. “I was completely in love with him. Couldn’t even imagine a future without him in it. Dan was my life.” He let out a choked laugh. “At least that’s how it was until I met his parents or to be more specific, his father.”

Sean straightened. “Dan comes from money. His parents are filthy rich, whereas mine are regular, middle class folk. Dan never flaunted any of that. Hell, it was almost a year before I knew how wealthy he really was. Like me, he worked his way through college. In fact that’s how we met. Both of us were working at a local printing company. Dan ran the presses while I loaded and unloaded the material being printed. We didn’t hit it off right away but soon there was no separating us.”

A tender smile graced Sean’s face and suddenly he looked ten years younger.

“As you know, Dan’s a computer whiz, and I’m pretty sure that’s how he got us assigned to the same dorm room our first semester at LSU. I was on the football team and should’ve been sharing a room with one of my teammates, but Dan showed up instead. Talk about literally fuck the whole semester away.” Sean laughed. “It was the best time of my life.” He reclaimed his lover’s hand. “And yeah, before you ask, the other team members assigned to our dorm quad weren’t exactly happy with the arrangement. In fact, once Dan and I came out of the closet, I was persona non gratis with the team. If I hadn’t been one of the team’s starting quarterbacks, I’m sure my butt would’ve been permanently planted on the bench.”

Trent shook his head. The parallels between him and Blaine and Sean and Dan were uncanny and somewhat disturbing. Would history repeat itself?

“It was rough,” Sean interrupted his thoughts, “but we handled it. That was until the summer we visited his folks in Washington, D.C. The Alexanders moved during the last semester of our sophomore year, and Dan hadn’t seen them since the move.”

Eyes as blue as Blaine’s captured Trent’s attention and he instinctively took a step toward Sean. The room tilted, and he immediately halted all forward motion. It took a minute or so before the dizziness passed but once it did, he inquired, “I take it his dad didn’t like you?”

“You could say that,” Sean agreed with a tight smile. “Dan’s father was madder than hell when he found out about Dan’s change of . . . ah . . . lifestyle. He threatened to disown him completely, not to mention . . . .” Scooting closer to the bed, Sean caressed Dan’s hand and lower arm. “He threatened to ruin my family if I didn’t leave his son alone.”

“And just how could he do that?” Trent asked. “He lived in D.C, your family was here in Louisiana. What made him think he could do such a thing?”

Sean spared a glance for Trent. “Dan’s father was a top level administrator for the FBI. He definitely had the means, but I didn’t believe him. Not until I checked in with my mom a week later and was told my dad had lost his job.”

Trent stared in disbelief at his boyfriend’s father. “You’re shitting, I mean, you’re kidding me, right? He seriously had your father fired from his job?”

Instead of answering the question, Sean continued with the story. “The bastard also swore he’d have the bank pull the mortgage on my parents’ home if I breathed a word of his threats to Dan.” He turned to Trent. “What could I do? It was Dan or my family. My parents, my two younger sisters. Do you have any idea the hell I suffered because of that S.O.B?” The chuckle that escaped his tightly pressed lips was totally without mirth. “Come to find out I sacrificed our future together for nothing.”

Trent watched Sean lift Dan’s hand and press a kiss to the ring he could only surmise was a commitment band like the ones both he and Blaine wore.

“It was years later that I learned all the threats were bogus. Dad’s job was already in jeopardy. Had been for several months. It was just a coincidence that he lost it at that particular moment.” Sean wiped his eyes. “By the time I learned the truth, Dan had moved on with someone else, and I was father to a new baby boy. Blaine was five before the two of us got back together.”

Sean suddenly grasped Trent’s uninjured hand. “I’ve always loved Dan, always will. He is my true soulmate. Allanah? She’s my heart. I love her just as much as I love Dan. It kills me that she no longer understands that, but, Trent, I can’t give Dan up. Not again. It would destroy me. Shit, it would destroy both of us.”

He returned his gaze to the man they were discussing. “Don’t ever let anyone or anything come between you and Blaine. If you truly love him, you stick with him, no matter what.”

The sound of familiar growling snagged his attention. Trent looked back to see his obviously angry boyfriend pointing emphatically at the empty wheelchair. “Speak of the devil.” He offered Blaine his most contrite smile. It didn’t work. His ass was busted.

“You shit for brains,” Blaine fumed. “Park your butt in this wheelchair or else.”

His legs gave up the fight before he could obey the ultimatum, and Trent was more than grateful for the two set of strong arms that saved his nose from making friendly with the floor.

“You dumbass,” Blaine gruffly whispered in his ear. “Playing Superman is not scoring you any points with me. On the other hand, planting those gorgeous buns of yours in this chair will get you just about anything.”

Trent grinned lopsidedly at Sean while allowing himself to be manhandled into the wheelchair. Like father, like son, he thought. Both Sean and Blaine would do everything in their power to take care of the ones they loved. He took great comfort in that certainty because Blaine was not only his soulmate but was also what he termed his ‘heartmate’ and nothing on God’s green earth would change that fact.

He glanced first at Dan, then Sean. Finally he locked eyes with his boyfriend. “Don’t worry, sir,” he promised. “It’s me and your son, 24/7, three hundred sixty- five days a year. It’s the two of us now and forever.”

End of chapter 24

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