Page 12 of Part & Parcel

“I know.”

Nick had obviously been fighting hard to maintain eye contact, and his fingers fidgeted with Kelly’s as he powered through his discomfort. He finally lowered his gaze, though, and Kelly could almost see him gearing up for something big.

“Nick?”

“It’s just . . . at what point do I recover enough for you to stop being the Doc and start . . .” Nick trailed off, taking an uneven breath as he looked back up at Kelly. “No one would blame you, Kels. If you slipped back into corpsman mode and just stayed there, after this. I have no right to call you mine. Not anymore.”

Kelly’s heart squeezed painfully as he realized what Nick was trying to do: to give Kelly an out. He clutched Nick’s hand harder, leaning closer with a sympathetic frown. “You’re probably right,” he said gently. “No one would blame me if I walked away now. Not even you.”

Nick hummed through a weak smile, the sound low and rumbling in the undercurrent of the restaurant.

Kelly kissed Nick’s fingers, shaking his head. “But I’m not going to do that, and we both know why. So how about you say that word again for me?”

Kelly could see the relief washing through Nick just as clearly as if it were an ocean wave. His grip on Kelly’s hand tightened and he closed his eyes, releasing a pent-up breath. “What word?” he asked, smiling tentatively when he opened his eyes again.

“You know which one,” Kelly said, dropping his voice to a growl.

Nick gazed at him for a few seconds, his entire demeanor relaxing when he offered a soft, “Mine.”

Kelly’s heart skipped a beat, and goose bumps rose on his arms, just like always. “I love the way you say that word.”

“Thank you for letting me keep saying it.”

The waiter placed their folder on the corner of the table and thanked them for dining with him tonight, but Kelly couldn’t pull his eyes from Nick’s to respond to the man.

Nick smiled slowly and threw Kelly a wink before releasing his hand and glancing at the waiter with a murmur of thanks. He retrieved his credit card and signed the receipt, then gave Kelly a nod and pushed back in his chair. Kelly moved quickly so he could help Nick if he needed it.

He’d recovered faster than most people would have, mostly because he’d been in peak condition before the incident in Miami and had made it into an ambulance in time.

Unfortunately, the stab wounds hadn’t been his only injury; he’d suffered a vicious kick to his knee as well, and was still awaiting surgery to address the damage. The only silver lining from that, according to Nick, was the handicapped parking permit and the cane he carried. He had several, but his favorite—and the one he was using tonight—was an antique, which may well have been the sole reason Nick favored it, and was made of ebony that shone after Nick oiled it down. The handle was engraved silver, so worn from use and age that it was impossible to tell what the engraving had been.

Nick plucked the cane from the back of his chair, nodding for Kelly to lead the way to the door. Kelly fought not to look over his shoulder to check Nick’s progress. Nick was a big boy who could traverse a restaurant unsupervised, he was closer to healthy than the hospital bed, and Kelly wasn’t the Doc tonight. When they got to the door, though, Kelly turned and held out his arm for Nick to take, and they stepped out into the warm evening together, arms entwined. Nick was relying heavily on the cane as they began to stroll.

“You didn’t take your pain pills today, did you?” Kelly asked.

Nick shook his head and jutted out his chin. “Not since this afternoon. I wanted to be clearheaded tonight. And avoid other side effects, too.”

Kelly snorted, warmth spreading through him. “In that case . . .” He halted and turning toward the street, raising his hand. “We’ll splurge on a cab.”

Nick hooked the handle of the cane around Kelly’s wrist and tugged, spinning Kelly back to face him. Kelly could only blink, wide-eyed, as Nick stepped into his space, using the cane to keep Kelly planted right where he was. Nick nudged his nose against Kelly’s, tilting his head to one side, then the other, like he was trying to determine the optimum angle of attack.

Kelly held his breath, his blood thrumming, his ears buzzing. He parted his mouth, dragging his lower lip over Nick’s, gasping quietly when Nick’s beard brushed the sensitive edge of his lip.

Nick kissed him. His hand splayed at the small of Kelly’s back. His breath caught on Kelly’s lips. Kelly moaned and grasped at Nick’s bulky shoulders, his fingers glancing over the soft, expensive material of Nick’s suit jacket as he tried to find purchase.

Nick kept the kiss safe for public consumption, his tongue and teeth merely offering a promise of what was to come. When they parted, Kelly wavered forward, seeking more. Nick chuckled, the sound traveling through Kelly to raise goose bumps all over his skin yet again.

“You smell good,” Kelly whispered. When the summer breeze had calmed and lost the faint hint of food and the sea, Kelly caught the unfamiliar scent of whatever was on Nick. “Is that new?”

Nick hummed an affirmative and kissed Kelly again.

“What is it?”

“Absinthe. Thought I’d try something new since I was charged with romancing you.”

“I like it.” Kelly nodded, meeting Nick’s shadowed eyes. Then he grinned slowly, and Nick mirrored the expression. “My place or yours?”

Nick took Kelly’s chin in his fingers. “I realize this isn’t really a first date kind of thing to say, but . . . I love you.”

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