Page 35 of Never Leave, Never Lie

“You don’t like it?”

“Imagine how much work it required to switch my accent to an American one. Every word I’ve ever said took effort. I prefer not to even think in Bulgarian. Of course, I don’t like it. I hate it. It reminds me of who I was when I moved here.”

Ian’s jaw fell open. Alek had revealed more in that one answer than he’d ever told him in their entire relationship.

“Why don’t you try the American accent then, and see if it still works?”

In an accent that was accentless to Ian because it sounded like his own, Alek said, “I would rather have become a vegetable than contend with all of these tiresome post-concussion symptoms.”

Ian grimaced. The thought of Alek suspended in a state between dead and alive, propped up by tubes and machines, stripped away of everything that made Alek Alek. Never hearing his voice again. Never seeing his eyes open. Kissing him without ever being kissed back. Wondering if Alek would be better off if they pulled the plug, but terrified to give up on him because what if he woke up tomorrow? Or maybe the next day. Or the day after that. But also, what if Alek never woke up and the less than half-life he was living was worse than death?

“Too soon?” Alek interrupted Ian’s spiraling thoughts.

“Too soon,” Ian agreed. “I think you should stick with the Bulgarian accent. Give your brain a rest. The cat’s out of the bag anyway, isn't it?”

“You’re only saying that because you think I sound sexy,” Alek said, but he’d reverted to his Bulgarian accent.

Ian brought Alek’s good hand to his lips and kissed. “Would you be jealous if I said it feels like I’m cheating on you a little bit?”

“Mmm. I like the idea of you cheating on me with me,” Alek said. “Could you bring me the keyboard?”

“The piano! That’s… Do you think it came back, too?”

“I don’t think so, but I didn’t know the English came back until you told me.”

Ian retrieved the keyboard from behind the curtain while Alek pressed the button to elevate the head of his bed.

Alek lifted his hands over the keys.

Ian held his breath.

“What’s this?” Alek’s dark lashes shaded his eyes as he looked down at his cast.

Nerves made Ian hot all over. He’d forgotten all about his earlier plan when Alek started talking in a language he could understand.

Alek’s face was expressionless as his perusal snagged on the crude heart Ian drew and what was written inside.

“I don’t understand…Is plus as?”

An unconcussed Alek would have figured it out immediately.

Ian pushed the piano aside and sat on the edge of the bed. His heart beat fast as he pulled the small wooden box from his back pocket and flipped it open with one hand to reveal the two rings inside.

“Ian Stewart and Alek Stewart,” Ian said. “I figured you could take my name since yours is probably fake anyway.”

Alek frowned. “I already told you I don’t want a deathbed pity marriage.”

“It’s not. This is different. I’m asking you.”

“Shouldn’t you be on one knee, then?”

“Do you have any idea how dirty hospital floors are?”

Alek rolled his eyes, then craned his head to look inside the box. “I see two rings there.”

“One for me and one for you,” Ian said in a voice that sounded far calmer than he felt. “Can I finish now?”

“You may.”

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