Page 34 of Alex
Histeeth scrape over my earlobe, putting an end to any more conversation.
ChapterFive
Alex
IanTurner kissed me. If that isn’t shocking enough, he confessed to havingfeelings for me. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess not to bendhim over right now and show him how good it can be. I have to keep in mind thisis all new territory for him. I’ve known I like men since I was a kid and Ican’t imagine how difficult it is for him to accept it so late in life. I’mafraid if I don’t let things progress at his pace, he’ll panic and run back tothe women he’s used to.
So,I don’t push it. Not even as far as another hand job yet. I love Ian. I’veloved him for quite a while, but tried to ignore it. I never really thoughtthere was a chance. Now, I just can’t screw it up. The next few days finds uscuddled and kissing on the couch every evening, though we still retreat to ourown beds to sleep.
Lyingin bed alone again, I decide to try to take it a bit farther the next night. Iwant to feel his cock again, in my hand and in my mouth. Like I told him whenhe was stressed, one thing at a time. A smile stays on my face as I drift off,dreaming of all the things I want to show him.
Ianis still in bed when I get out of the shower the next morning. “Are you goingto sleep all day?” I call, tugging my shirt down over my head.
Hedoesn’t respond, not even when I open his bedroom door and call his name again.Lying on his back, his eyes are sealed shut, his normally pale cheeks a brightred. Before I can call his name again, his entire body goes rigid and begins toshake. Fuck! He’s having a seizure. Fear turns my stomach as I rush to his sideand grab his phone from the bedside table. I don’t know what else to do, buttalk to him softly and make sure he doesn’t fall off the bed or hit his head.
“I’vegot you, buddy. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” I repeat, trying toconvince myself as much as him. It doesn’t last long, and by the time I’m onthe line with 911, the tremor stops. “Ian, can you hear me?” I ask, laying ahand on his cheek. His skin is on fire.
“He’snot responding to me,” I tell the dispatcher. “He’s burning up.”
“Ishe breathing?” she asks, her voice the only calm in a raging storm.
Therise and fall of his chest is shallow but regular. “Yes.”
“Juststay with me. The ambulance should be there any minute.” The longest threeminutes of my life pass while I wait for the ambulance. He has to be all right.This can’t be happening now. Not after everything that’s happened. I can’t losehim too.
TheEMT’s rush me out of the way and quickly get him on a stretcher and into theambulance. The drive to the hospital is a blur. I barely remember following theambulance. All I can do is picture his body shaking on that bed.
Asmiling nurse at the reception desk takes my name and asks me to wait in thewaiting room. I’m not family, so I’ll be lucky if they let me back there atall. Ian’s going to kill me for this when he wakes up. “Please, I’m hisboyfriend. I need to be with him.”
“Iunderstand. Let the doctor examine him and he’ll come to talk to you.”
Fifteenminutes later, a man in scrubs walks into the waiting room. “Are you here withIan Turner?”
“Yes,please, tell me he’s okay.”
Thedoctor’s face softens. “He’s stable. You told the dispatcher he recentlyunderwent a cycle of chemotherapy?”
“Yes,but he was better. Is it the cancer? Did it cause a seizure?”
“Chemocan weaken the immune system and leave the patient vulnerable to infectionsthat our bodies usually have no trouble fighting off. Mr. Turner had a fevernear one hundred and six when he was admitted which was what caused theseizure. We’ve got his temperature down to a safe level and are starting him onan IV of antibiotics. His file says he isn’t allergic to anything?”
“I-I’mnot sure. He’s never mentioned it.” It occurs to me there’s so much we don’tknow about each other. “Will he be okay?”
“Theantibiotics should knock out the infection, but it will be a few hours beforewe know if they’re working.” He lays a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’tuncommon in cancer patients and most come out of it just fine.”
“CanI see him?”
“Ofcourse.” I’m led down a too bright hallway and into a corner room. He’s laidout on a bed in only his boxers while a nurse wipes him down with a wet cloth.“He’s shivering,” I whisper.
“It’snormal. His fever’s coming down quickly,” the doctor tells me.
Thenurse takes his temperature again and turns to the doctor. “One-oh-two.”
“Good.Let me know if it rises even a few points,” he says, giving me a reassuringsmile before leaving the room.
“Hashe been awake at all?” I ask the nurse as she dries his chest.
“Inand out, but I doubt he was aware of anything.” She drapes a gown over him andI help her get his arms through the holes. “I’m sure he’ll wake soon.” Sheshows me what button to hit to call her and heads out the door.
