Page 103 of Sycopation
That was what he saw, yes. Ray alive in the hospital. All the machines read the right things. No alarms. But in his mind, Ray was falling again. And again. Zavier could only catch him and watch, helpless and ineffective, while everyone around him did what he so wanted to do—take care of Ray. The tears he hated, that he fought against, slipped down his cheeks.
Mish pulled a chair over next to Zavier’s and took his hand. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“I know.” He did. But he wasn’t so foolish to think that this night hadn’t changed anything. Everything inside Zavier had been flipped sideways and nearly crushed into bits.
He never wanted to lose Ray. Never wanted to come close to losing Ray again.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Wakingup was like fighting toward light and sound. Ray didn’t want to scrape and push anymore, but he kept crawling until he could blink open his eyes and taste antiseptic, too-cold air. There was weird shit on him, and this wasn’t a hotel or the tour bus. He was alone in a tiny bed with metal bars as sides, and there were way too many pieces of equipment hooked up to him.
Hospital. He was in a hospital.
Damned if he knew why—he couldn’t remember.Shit. What had happened? Why couldn’t he remember? Had they been in an accident? Where was everyone else? He tried to push himself up, but every movement felt like swimming through mud.
“Fuck.” It came out as a croak.
Movement in the room, then Zavier’s cracked voice. “Ray? Hey, hey.”
God, Zavier looked horrible. Hair every which way. Dark circles under his eyes and his fancy dress clothes all wrinkled and askew. He brushed fingers against Ray’s forehead. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“What?” That came out as a bark. God, his throat was dry. He tried to push himself up again.
Zavier pressed against Ray’s temple. “Shh. Relax. Wait.”
The pressure was comforting. Known. Like when he prostrated himself on Zavier’s shoes. Ray closed his eyes.Wait. He could do that. Zavier was here and he trusted him.
“I’m going to get you some water.” The fingers remained. “Be good and stay put.”
An order. Relief flooded through Ray. He might not remember what had happened, but this was normal. Zavier was taking care of him.
When he closed his eyes, Zavier removed his fingers. More movement in the room. Water being poured.
“Here.” Zavier was close again. “Please drink.”
Might have been couched as a request, but Ray knew better. Opening his eyes was still painful, but he took the plastic cup with the straw, sipped down some water, and swallowed.
Bliss. Pure, utter bliss. Practically felt the liquid flowing into his body and down his veins. Another sip felt better, and another. He stopped after that, because man, he wasdizzy.
He tried speaking again. “What—” So far so good. “What happened?”
Zavier, or a disheveled version of him, pulled a chair closer to his bed and perched himself on the edge. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Ray scoured his mind. They’d been getting ready for a party. Some of it came back. Zavier’s lips on his neck and the braid of thread he’d tied tight around Ray’s wrist.So you remember who you are.He raised his wrist, but the braid was gone and an IV catheter was stuck into the back of his hand and taped down.
“We were getting ready for—there was a party. The album went platinum.”
“Yes, it did. And yes, we went.”
“I don’t remember being there.” He searched and searched, turning the water cup in his hand. “You’d promised to tie me down when we got back. I remember we got into the limo at thehotel and all I could think about was kneeling naked before you in your tux...then there’s nothing.”
Zavier shifted on the chair, a tinge of color in his cheeks. “And see—I forgot that promise.” He shook his head, looking far, far too tired. “I was so worried about you.”
“Zavier, what happened?”
Silence and a very grave face. Zavier closed his eyes for a moment, then met Ray’s gaze. “Carl drugged you. He dropped two crushed-up pills in your drink while your back was turned.”
