Patient Privilege (10 page)

"Hello?" he choked, voice hoarse from physical and mental exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" Marshall asked.

"Yeah." Erik sighed as he sank down on one of the old, brown sofas. "I'll be okay. I just need to rest, I think."

"Where are you?"

"At the clinic. I just got chewed out for bringing a new patient in because the clinic is apparently closing in three months."

"Oh," Marshall said in a short, airy rush. "I'm so sorry, Erik."

"It's okay. I'll figure something out. My main concern is the boy I brought in. I'm going to make sure he gets checked in and taken care of, then I am taking his partner home. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a little sleep before heading back here."

"Where does the partner live?"

"Not sure. Hollywood, I think. He mentioned it once, but I can't remember now."

"Wow, you are tired. You never forget anything." There was a long pause in the conversation, then Marshall said, "If it's closer, you can always come back to my room at the Palomar, get some sleep and a shower before going back to the clinic."

The thought of sleeping beside Marshall again excited him. The offer made him smile. "Sweetie, if I come to your room, sleep will be the last thing on either of our minds, and you know it."

Marshall laughed. "True, but the offer stands. If it's easier for you, please, don't hesitate to come back here."

"I won't," Erik said as he stood from the couch. He poked his head out of the door to check his boys. A slight laugh escaped his lips.
His boys
, huh? That wasn't a good sign, at all. They looked to be wrapping things up with the Admissions nurse and that meant Erik needed to go back to them. "I have to go. Should I call before I come?"

"Should I be expecting you?"

"I don't know yet."

"Then yes, call first. I want to make sure I'm awake to let you in."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later then."

"Good night, Erik."

"Night, Marshall."

Erik stepped out of the lounge just as the nurse started to come out from behind the counter. She had a patient file in hand. Jon still had an arm around Angel's waist. Angel's head rested on Jon's shoulder. They both looked as tired as Erik felt. The night had been one of the longest he'd lived. And if he were to be completely honest with himself, he just wanted to curl up beside Marshall and sleep a few days away.

The nurse handed over the file. Erik led Angel and Jon to what would be Angel's new residence for the next ninety days—if he stuck with the program. Erik gave the boys the guided tour of Angel's ten by ten home. He pointed out two beds—standard twin beds, not hospital beds. They would both eventually prove to be far from comfortable. A wooden chest of drawers sat across from them in the center of the wall. Angel could keep the clothes he no longer had in those drawers.

Erik frowned.

"I'll get you some clothes somehow. Don't worry about that, okay?"

Angel nodded.

"I can bring him some of mine," Jon offered. "We're close enough to the same size."

"Thanks," Angel mumbled.

"Okay," Erik said as he turned toward the door. "I'll let you two spend a little more alone time together. Then, Jon, you'll have to go. I'll give you a ride home, okay?"

Walking out, Erik closed the door to Angel's room. Roni headed right for him.

He looked at her and said, "Give them an hour or so alone. Make sure no one bothers them, okay? And come to the lounge and wake me up in an hour."

Roni said, "Sure thing, Dr D."

Erik went back to the doctor's lounge, closed the door, and lay down on the old brown sofa. Normally, the thing was tragically uncomfortable, but right now, lying down on the lumpy heap was the most heavenly experience Erik could've asked for.

When he closed his eyes, Erik pictured Angel breaking down in the hotel room. He'd been in his shoes before and felt really bad for Angel, for everything he'd been through and had yet to go through. Erik understood. He'd destroyed his life and his love all for a drug. Yes, he was a coward too, but the booze numbed something broken inside of him. The pain of losing Marshall had overshadowed everything else and made fixing himself almost impossible. He might never know what had broken, but he damn sure wouldn't soak it in booze. Never again.

Chapter Eighteen

Angel's stare followed Dr Daniels as he left the room. He kept his focus on the man until he disappeared behind the door and it closed. His head lowered as Jon hugged him again. A lump wound its way up his throat. He didn't know how in the hell he would survive the next ninety days, but by God, he could try.

"You can do this," Jon whispered as he rubbed his hands up and down Angel's spine.

Could he? Could Angel make it through ninety days of detox and rehabilitation and facing the shit that made him want the drugs in the first damn place? His jaw flexed, making the skin ripple against the bone. Jon pressed his lips to Angel's cheek and the gentle kiss made Angel close his eyes and take a deep breath. He only smelled the scent of the man who'd held him during his bad episodes, who'd been there every time he needed someone, who'd selflessly sacrificed his own happiness to put up with Angel's shit.

And that's when Angel started feeling the incredible weight of guilt, more than a few years' worth, actually.

Hands gripped Angel's cheeks as Jon lifted his face. "I'm not going to abandon you here, okay? I mean, I'll come visit every time I can. I swear I will," Jon said in a serious tone.

"I believe you," Angel responded. He took one last deep breath so he'd never forget the way Jon smelled, never forget the memories they'd made together, then pulled away from the warm embrace of Jon's arms. He sank down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wrap his head around the idea of being trapped inside those four walls.

"Jon," he said. "I don't want you to worry about me." Jon started to speak and Angel held up a hand to shush him. "I know how you are. I know you'll worry. Just… don't let my bullshit interrupt your life, okay? You want me to get better. I want you happy."

Jon knelt down in front of him, squeezed himself between Angel's legs. "You're getting help. That makes me happy," he said as he cradled Angel's face between his palms. "You're going to get out of here, and everything is going to be okay, all right?"

Angel nodded, shifting his eyes away.

"Hey," Jon said, "Look at me." Angel let out an aggravated sigh as he looked back at Jon's loving face. "I'm going to be here waiting for you to get out of this place. It's only three months, Angel, and think about how much better off you'll be. Maybe you can even go to school and get your life back on track."

Jon eased up onto his knees and pressed his mouth to Angel's. He slipped his tongue through Angel's slightly parted lips, turning the kiss into something deeper, more passionate than the situation called for, but that's how Jon worked. When it came to their romance—or lack thereof—Jon always pushed a little too hard. Sure, Jon probably thought he was doing Angel a favor, letting him know just how much Jon loved and cared for him, but that kiss felt like nothing more than a sad goodbye.

Welcome to hell, Angel. Your life is fucked for the next ninety days.

He pulled away from the kiss and looked away again. All this crap had him on the verge of tears. He hated tears.

Angel resolved himself to doing one of the hardest things he would ever have to do—he had to push Jon away. For the sake of Jon's life and happiness, Angel had to push him far away from the hell he called life.

"Angel, what's wrong?" Jon asked.

"You have to go, Jon. You have to go and be happy for both of us."

"Well, I can't stay here, of course, but I—"

"No. You don't get it. You have to go. Don't look back and don't come back." Angel swallowed hard and lowered his head. "Jon, I don't love you the way you love me. I don't think I am capable of loving like that, okay? So just, go… find someone to love you for you. Find someone who will take care of you, because God knows, you're a wreck when you're alone."

"What are you saying, Angel? You don't want to see me ever again?"

"I don't know. I do, but… I'm not in love with you, Jon. I love you, but it's not like that."

Jon scooted from between Angel's thighs and sat back on the floor. He hugged his legs against his body, resting his chin on his knees. Angel's heart sank. Everything they had together, everything they were to each other, he knew Jon treasured every fucked-up, beautiful, funny, sad, intense moment of it. God help him, he felt like an ass, but this would be better for Jon. Everything would be better for Jon if the kid just moved the hell on.

"What are you saying?" Jon mumbled against his knees.

"That I think it would be best if you found someone who loves you."

"I don't want someone else." He raised his head and met Angel's dark brown gaze. "I want you."

"Well, I'm not available, and I don't want you seeing me like this." Angel stood and started to pace the small confines of his ten-by-ten prison. "I don't want you."

Jon gasped, clenching his eyes and his jaw. "That's the drugs talking."

"No! No, the fuck it isn't. Get out, Jon! Go home!"

It took a minute before Jon opened his eyes. "Fine," he bit out as he hefted himself from the floor. Angel started to reach out to him, to apologize and take back all the shit he'd just said. The words had been spoken in fear and shame, not from the heart. He didn't mean any of it and wanted so badly to take it back, but he stopped himself. He stood still as a statue and watched as his only friend in the entire world stormed out of the room.

* * * *

A door slammed so hard the entire wall shook and the sound echoed down the hall. The thunderous boom and the sound of feet pounding down the hall ripped Erik away from the sleep he couldn't seem to find. He stood from the couch and walked out into the hall.

Jon raced right past Erik, face red, cheeks glistening, and charged for the exit. Erik pounded down the hall after him, and just before Jon shoved through the door, Erik reached out and grabbed his arm. The sudden force of it wrenched Jon back.

"You okay?" Erik asked, his mouth curling into a frown.

Jon shook his head. "I want to go home now." And that's when the tears
really
started falling. They fell hard and fast, clinging to his rosy cheeks as they wound down to his lips and dripped off his chin. Erik had to fight like hell to resist the urge to hug the kid. It just wouldn't look good, especially not at the clinic, not after Dr Mathers had presumed the boys were personal to Erik.

"What happened?" Erik asked, voice soft and full of concern

"I just want to go home," Jon sobbed.

"Okay. All right, I'll take you now."

"Thank you."

Chapter Nineteen

"Do you want to talk about that?" Erik asked, thumbing over his shoulder in the direction of the clinic as he and Jon walked back to his car.

"Not really," Jon said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

They both climbed into Erik's car. Erik sat there for a moment, staring out over the front lawn of West Clinic. Dew covered the grass. The sun hadn't started to rise yet. With his thumb and forefinger, he pushed up his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. "I need to know what's going on with him if I'm going to help him."

Jon crossed his arms over his chest. He kept staring forward, but didn't say a word.

Erik sighed as he cranked the car and pulled out onto the street. Silence. The air around them became so thick with tension it could almost be cut with a knife. One hand gripped the wheel. He propped his other arm up on the door so he could hold up his heavy head. He hadn't been this exhausted in a long time. His nerves were frazzled, and his patient had apparently just showed his ass.

"He doesn't want to see me," Jon finally said. "He's not in love with me and he doesn't want me in his life."

Erik's eyes widened and he turned his head to look at Jon, noticing fresh tears on his cheeks. They glistened in the green and red dash lights of Erik's piece-of-shit car. He reached over and took Jon's hand. Nothing he could say would ease Jon's pain, so he didn't say anything. He felt Jon's fingers tighten around his, felt the shaking and knew Jon had started sobbing harder. "Look, don't give up. Maybe that's what he needs right now. Maybe he doesn't want you to see him like this. It's a pride thing."

"That's what he said, that he didn't want me to see him like this." Jon turned in the seat but never let go of Erik's hand. "Dr Daniels, I don't care how he is or how he looks. I need to be there for him. I need him to know I am the one who loves him and wants to take care of him."

"I know, Jon, but his needs are more important right now. I know that sounds harsh, but that's the way it is. He's about to go through the most difficult time of his life. He has to be handled with care or he'll be right back out on the streets, selling his body and shooting up heroin. Just give him time, okay?"

Jon leaned back against the seat, untwisted his hand from Erik's and hugged himself.

As Erik's beater made its way into the less glamorous side of Hollywood, the sky above started to lighten. The Palomar Hotel was less than fifteen miles from Jon's apartment. It would probably take close to an hour to get to Erik's home. If he wanted to get any sleep before he had to go back to work, he would have to stay with Marshall. The idea excited and terrified him. Erik knew too much time with Marshall would rekindle a flame that had been almost extinguished and needed to stay that way, but he honestly didn't know if he could keep his eyes open long enough to make the drive back to his place.

"Right here," Jon said. His voice snapped Erik out of his internal ramblings. Jon pointed a finger toward an old, rather worn building. "I live right there."

Erik pulled into the parking lot.

Jon looked over at him and frowned. "You okay to drive? I mean, I have a couch if you want to crash."