Page 25 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

He grasped my shoulder, squeezed it, then left, probably heading to the complex where he was setting up an impressive control center in an old swimming pool. He’d called it Swim Central once, a play on its origins I assume, and I couldn’t believe they were still running ops out of there, but seemed like they were?

Sanctuary funded this, and they were a mystery to me.

The door opened and Doc Jen came out, long white hair tied back in a ponytail. Dressed down in jeans and a T-shirt, Jen was our resident medical expert apparently, and a kick-ass surgeon who Sanctuary had called in to be part of the team that had saved August’s life.

Yep, Sanctuary really had deep pockets.

“You can go in,” she said, staring at a tablet and making a note. “He’s still sleeping, press the button when he wakes up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced up from her tablet, her blue eyes twinkling. “That ‘ma’am’ you have going on is very growly,” she said, smiled, then headed down the same corridor Ethan had taken, and I was just happy she didn’t see me blush.

I headed back into the room and took a moment to lean against the door, August was so small and still in the bed.

The room had all the trappings of a hospital room, with the steady beeps of the monitors and the occasional hum of medical equipment providing a constant backdrop. Wires snaked from the machines to where August lay, evidence of how serious his condition was.

Only beyond the immediate vicinity of his bed, the room transformed from hospital room to something else. There was a secondary area resembling a small, well-equipped apartment. It had a three-cupboard kitchen, complete with a microwave and a kickass coffee machine, a refrigerator filled with bottled water plus some disgusting protein drinks, not to mention a cupboard full of healthy snacks. There was also a simple cot and a plush sofa, inviting enough for a brief respite or a night’s sleep, even if I did stay next to the bed on a chair and slept the night there.

I’d slept in worse situations.

One of the room’s most striking features was the large windows framing a breathtaking view of the ocean and small open vents that let in the fresh, salty breeze. The blinds were drawn to shield the room from the sun, yet they were tilted, ensuring the magnificent view remained unobstructed. The vast expanse of gray stretched to the horizon, its surface shimmering under the sunlight, and I bet anything that Navy would love that when he opened his eyes.

Without the hospital bed and the array of medical paraphernalia, the room could pass for a luxurious seafront apartment, and it wasn’t that much smaller than the place I rented in a shared house. Hell, the coffee machine was definitely better. Talking of which, I made use of it, then headed back to the chair next to the bed—angling it for the view and for watching August—sipped the Colombian brew and carried on with what I’d been doing when the doc had evicted me from the room.

Talking to the man in case that helped him wake up.

“Where were we? I’d done the ass over face on my bike thing… so… okay, I was thirteen, and there was this boy, Nathan; he was a year older than me, and that was when I knew I was gay. In hindsight, finding him playing tonsil hockey with my sister might have clued me in that he wasn’t at all gay in any goddamn way, but I did all this reading up on it, and I convinced myself that he could be bi. So, I went about throwing myself into his life at every given moment. Ryder persistent West—that’s me. So, he and I did this…”

I talked for an hour or so, catching August up on my life, for something to talk about. Then, I called up the first Jack Reacher book on my phone and started to read out loud, chuckling at some of the shit the big man got up to, and wondering at some of the most improbable bits.

“There again,” I explained. “Who am I to judge Reacher, when we have the shadowy Shadow Team and the even shadowier—is that even a word—Sanctuary backing that, so maybe we can blur the lines. What do you think? Not you maybe, I don’t know what you’re up to next, but Cap asked me to join that Shadow Team, and I jumped at it.” I laughed. “I get bored easily, and hell, a soldier’s not a fat lot of good without wars to fight. Am I right?”

The beeps changed, becoming rapid, but he was still unconscious, and I placed the book down and leaned over him, grasping his hand.

When it came down to it, nightmares were probably chasing this unnatural sleep and maybe knowing there was someone who got it, might make things settle. I shouldn’t have mentioned war. Also, maybe I should find a different book to read aloud?

I watched the monitor, waited until the beeps smoothed out, until his breathing settled, and I shuffled the chair closer without letting go of him.

“I got you, Navy. I got you.”

Chapter Ten

AUGUST

Emerging from a dense fog of unconsciousness, I became aware of my surroundings with each painful breath. Light pushed against my eyelids, and the scent of the ocean, salty and fresh, filled my nostrils. Everything around me seemed to be bathed in white, an ethereal haze that made it hard to focus.

The world rushed in with an intensity that felt overwhelming, and I squinted, trying to shield my eyes from the assault, but it was relentless. Pain, sharp and unyielding, coursed through my body, and I tried to shift, but the pain intensified, anchoring me in place. Something was holding my hand down, and I tensed and yanked until it slipped free.

Voices drifted towards me, muffled at first, but becoming clearer. I reached for my gun, the ingrained reflex of a man who had lived too long in the shadows. But my hand found nothing, my weapon gone.

“Easy, Navy,” a voice said, calm and steady.

I managed to crack open my eyes, squinting against the harsh light. A figure loomed over me, features blurred. “Wha’ppen?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, cracked and dry from disuse.

Someone slipped into my field of vision, offering a small piece of ice. The coolness a small respite from the dryness.

As the ice melted, I closed my eyes again, the effort of staying awake too much. My mind was a whirlpool of questions and confusion, but I was too exhausted, too worn down to pursue them. The weight was back on my hand—fingers, I thought, lacing with mine, holding me tight.

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