Buckle Up, page 15
part #1 of Commitment Series
“Yeah. He had a pretty bad concussion. The medic didn’t really know why as he was wearing his helmet, but his leg was smashed as well. Think you caught him with the full force of the rear end swinging out. It’s just an unfortunate situation.”
Unfortunate situation! My jaw flexes from the power of my gritted teeth. Someone will pay for this.
Kyle
Elliott is the first thing I see when I open my eyes after surgery. He’s peering over me, stroking my face, speaking in a soft voice I’ve never heard before.
“Come on, wake up for me gorgeous.”
I feel the rough texture of my chin under his caress, notice his chin is also overgrown. It’s not like Elliott to let himself go like this, especially when he was due on TV. I wonder why he didn’t use the new shower-proof shaver he bought to better manage his pre-race schedule.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Rather than hugging me and kissing me as I’d expected, he jumps up and leaves me alone, running at speed out of the room, arms flailing over his head. His voice extends into my room from his position outside in the corridor, “Doctor, doctor. He’s awake.”
The door burst open again and Elliott rushes back in. I want to laugh, but I’m connected to so many tubes I’m not sure if my mouth will move. I’m content with a slow smile and a croak.
“You’re awake!” He says it again.
Of course, I only went to surgery so they could sort my leg out. Jeez, I’m not dying! I nod to alleviate his concern but I don’t think he can tell because he doesn’t reply. Instead he strokes my hair and plants a kiss on my forehead. My hair feels longer than its usual shaved palette.
A nurse bursts in with another in tow behind her. Wow, Elliott really does have some pull.
They proceed to manhandle me, checking my vital signs. My limbs feel heavy in their grasp. They flop onto the mattress as they release them to move on to their next assessment. I have to say, I think this is very dramatic. I need to have a word with him later about over reacting.
The nurses look at Elliott, “He seems in good shape. We’ll wait for the doctors official assessment, but everything is within the acceptable levels, so this is positive.”
He cries. His legs buckle into the chair at the side of the bed and his mouth crumples as a tear slips down his cheek.
‘What’s going on?’ My voice still isn’t warmed up, so I can’t ask, but instead I wrinkle that space above my eyes hoping someone will notice and tell me what the hell is happening here.
No one does.
They continue their conversations as though I’m not even there.
“Ah, it’s OK deary, come here.” The older, larger nurse hugs Elliott into her rotund waist and he wraps his arms around her. This isn’t right.
“El” I croak again putting every ounce of energy I have into making sure my vocal chords work. It’s soft though and with all the commotion, no one hears.
I try again. Focus, build your energy in your chest and project from there, “El.”
“Huh? Kyle, are you trying to speak?” Elliott is over me in a shot, he wipes snot from his nose with the back of his hand. “What are you saying?”
I try again, but I’m woozy from the anesthetic. I’ve used all of my reserves of energy speaking his name.
He leans closer in case he just can’t hear the silent words escaping my moving lips.
I shake my head, can’t get the words out. Can’t project my voice.
“You’re OK. You’re doing OK. They put you in a coma to let your brain heal. You’ve been out for almost two weeks. That’s why you’re groggy. Don’t worry about it. Just relax. We’ll have you back to normal in no time.”
Elliott looks at me, his eyes pleading with me to give him a sign that I understand what he’s saying, and that he’s not leaving me lying here with vital questions unanswered.
“Your parents are outside, Kyle. Do you want to see them? They came to the race. You said you didn’t want anyone to visit except me, so I left them out there, but they’ve been waiting here all this time. They came to the race Kyle.”
Elliott
Two weeks is long enough for even the angriest parents to get over a misunderstanding when their child is lying sick in a hospital bed, especially when that bed is in a hospital in a different country.
Kyle’s are the exception.
I only told Kyle the good stuff but they still don’t fully accept us being in a relationship.
“Why did you come to the race if you weren’t bothered about making up with your son?” I asked after everything had settled down.
They looked at each other as though they were getting their stories straight. His dad answered, “We wanted to know about his job, to see for ourselves what he’s achieved. We might not want to be an active part of his life, but we are interested.”
What does that mean? That they wanted the freebie more likely. Or to gloat to their friends. I wonder what God will think of that.
As time drifts on, they were forced in to speaking with me. It was the only way they could find about their son’s state of health. It has given me the opportunity to warm them up, and for me to warm to them. Although I’m still reserving my judgment, I recognize flashes of their personalities. Kyle is part of each of them after all; they must have some good in their souls, even if my opinion is that it’s misguided.
“You know your parents would love to come and visit you.” I mention to Kyle later the next day when he’s come around a little more.
“I don’t want to see them.” He says.
“But doesn’t that make you as bad as them?”
“Maybe, but they discarded me like a piece of old trash without even hearing me out. I’m not sure how I feel about just forgiving and forgetting.” His voice is still raspy.
I pass him a plastic cup of water. “Shall I go fill this with some cold water for you?”
He shakes his head. I step to the window, looking at the now familiar cityscape. ‘If I never see this again, it’ll be too soon’, I think.
I turn to see Kyle watching my back. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that we know more than most that life is short and that the unexpected can happen at the drop of a hat. How would you feel if they wanted to start making peace, and you pushed them away and before that could be resolved or if some God awful accident happened to them? That’s the position they’re in now and they want to put it right, Kyle. Don’t you have it in your heart to forgive them?”
“I don’t know. Leave it, Elliott. Maybe at some point, but I’m not ready now. Don’t forget you are all a few weeks ahead of me. I’m lagging behind on the old emotional front right now. And I don’t have the energy to deal with their crap.”
And so I have to tell them their son is awake and making good progress, but that he doesn’t want them to visit him yet. I make sure to include the yet.
His mum, a gray haired shorter woman cries. “Oh, George, what have you done. You and your beliefs. They’re just too much sometimes.” She sits in a chair in the center of a row of empty ones in the waiting room, sobbing in to her cotton handkerchief, refolding it to find a dry section.
“It’s not my fault. He’s made his choices, Miriam. We’ve accepted them now, but he doesn’t want us. He’s like his mum. Stubborn.”
“Oh, blame me!” She hisses this, staring him out through her bloodshot eyes.
“I assume we may as well wait in the hotel then Elliott, have a little comfort until he changes his mind.”
“You could do that, but I’m not sure when that time will be, Mr. Beaumont. He is quite stubborn as you say and more than a little hurt.” I say it softly, but I make my point.
I return in to Kyle’s room and tell him his parents have left. My voice is flat. I know they’ve behaved badly, but they have accepted they made a mistake and want to put it right. Where would Kyle and I be now if we’d not moved forward from our earlier complications and misunderstandings? Shit happens.
Kyle
I get out of the hospital and back to Elliott’s place via his private jet. I feel like laughing the whole way back. How did I end up meeting a guy who has a jet on hand?
“It’s just easier,” he shrugs as I tease him, while secretly loving everything about it.
I can’t travel with him to the races because I leave with the mechanics which is fine, but it does mean I’ve not seen this level of luxury before.
“Ah shut up with your teasing would you? You’re loving it. Look!” He waves a hand along my cast. “You can stretch your leg out as much as you like on here. Would like to see you do that in the economy section of a commercial flight.” We laugh and I lean forward. He meets me, instinctively knowing what I want and places his lips against mine while they’re still curled upwards at the edges.
“Yeah, talk about luxurious. I hope the food is better than the commercial flights too.” I dig at him when we release our brief embrace.
“You and your stomach. You’ve done nothing but moan about food since you woke up.”
“Well, I’m a big guy, what can I say?”
He punches my arm, “I know you are!”
I laugh again, this time with force behind it. It’s a carefree nod to recovery. It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to truly laugh and I’m not sure why, other than there is an atmosphere in a hospital that just doesn’t make it appropriate. Even though I was improving daily, I didn’t laugh.
“You know I can ask for privacy if you’d prefer a delicacy other than food on your journey back?” Elliott winks. He knows what my answer has to be and I don’t appreciate him tempting me.
I shake my head. “Quit it pervert, my doctor says I’m not allowed.”
He laughs, “Can’t blame a man for trying. It’s been longer for me than you, you know. You had two weeks out cold.”
“May I get you some drinks, sir?” The air steward asks. I’ve never looked at guys in that way before, but in my new position as Elliott’s partner, it’s safe to say my eyes have been opened.
“Do you always surround yourself with hot staff?” I ask as he totters off to collect two waters.
“Sure, why not?”
Where I’d previously have felt some jealousy about this, I’m heartened to discover that such is my confidence in our relationship I feel nothing. I don’t care who he looks at; he’s with me.
“So, when are you going back to work?” I ask, mentally starting to prepare for landing and returning to the real world again.
“Well, I wanted to speak to you about that. Chase wants me to go in tomorrow for a few hours. It’s OK missing one race, but as well as the constructors championship that the team are hoping to win as a collective, I’m also fighting for my personal drivers’ title. I don’t think a few hours will hurt, but I wanted to see how you feel about it before making the final decision.”
I think about it for approximately three seconds before I reply, “I feel good about it. It’ll be great for us to establish some normalcy again.”
“You’re staying at my place though, right? We’re not going back to the old normal?”
I laugh. “Of course I’ll stay with you, although I will have to see how I manage because my crappy apartment is way easier to get around with this.” I point at my leg, stretched out from hip to ankle.
“I’ll get you a stair lift if you need one. But I want you staying with me.” He says it in a tone which means I’m unlikely to see my place ever again and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I forget it for now. I’ll deal with one hurdle at a time.
Elliott
When I return home from the factory the next day, Kyle was nowhere to be seen. I shout his name. No answer so I investigate around all the downstairs rooms, to no avail.
I wonder if he wandered outside for some fresh air, but I don’t see him. It’s unlikely in his wheelchair, but I’m out of options, so I’m just considering whether I need to start hunting for him through the woodland. Maybe he’s gone to sit by the lake. I turn to collect my boots from the mudroom.
And there he is. In the bloody gym of all places. I see him through the full length windows, hooked up to my suspension trainer. I march inside, not sure how I feel about his plight for rapid recovery. He sees me and waves with a grin. How can I resist him?
“Wow, you’re eager. You still have your cast on.” I state the obvious before I’ve crossed the threshold.
“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to start early. There’s no need to let my upper body strength suffer any more than it needs to while I’m in this.” He jabs at the arm of the wheelchair he’s using to move around.
“What have you been doing?” I ask, seeing his perspective, but still thinking he’s a complete idiot.
“Well, I looked up some exercises on YouTube. I’ve been using your TR, so it’s only gentle bodyweight exercises.”
For a start the TRX is very deceiving, but more importantly, I stutter, “You looked exercises up on YouTube. I’m getting you a personal trainer, one that understands the healing process. You’ll kill yourself.” I stab my finger into the air between us.
“No, I won’t. Look.”
He takes the straps and pulls himself out of the chair until he’s standing on one leg before releasing himself back down. “See, it’s OK. A kind of HIIT class in slow motion.”
I walk around to the front of him and bend so we’re eye level. “Just leave it. I’ll get one of the trainers from the factory to come over tomorrow to give you some proper advice, OK? If you’re going to heal, then you need to do it properly and they’re the experts. Not freaking YouTube.” Seriously. YouTube! At least he’s not letting this setback defeat him; I have that to be thankful for.
He smiles and his face comes alive. His white teeth glint in the harsh lighting of the cold room, his full lips contrasting against them. I lean forward, pressing my paler ones against his.
“I love being around you Kyle Beaumont.”
His lips move under mine as they widen, “I love being around you too, El.”
“Ooh, El, a pet name? I guess we’re serious now.”
“Well, Elliott is a bit of a mouthful.”
“But you like a mouthful.”
“Oh, you’re more than a mouthful and you know it.” He slaps my hand.
“Hey, I have you captive in that chair. You can’t get away from me.”
“You think?” He backs away, wheels bumping into the boxing bag behind him as he turns and scoots out of the door toward the kitchen. “Oh, fuck!” he curses as he exits the doorway. “Been doing that all day.” He shakes his fingers out to ease the bite of smashing them against wood.
“Don’t make excuses. I can catch you.”
“Sure you can.” He whoops as I grab him by his shoulders and draw him to a shuddering halt. I jab the brakes on and rush round to the front of him. As I’m doing that, he releases the brakes again and takes off through the kitchen.
“You’ve got the hang of that machine now, haven’t you?” I shout after him as I slip on the tiled floor.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”
I catch him as we arrive in the living room, “Come on, let’s get you out and onto the sofa where you’re a little less mobile.”
He grins, “I could get used to this you know. Be careful what you offer.” He winks and takes off again.
Kyle
I’d love to say Elliott throws me onto the sofa and jumps on top of me. The practicalities don’t facilitate it being quite that simple. Plus, we’re messing about way too much for this to be any kind of sexy. I was not however prepared for being tipped out of my chair in such a dramatic fashion.
He was pushing me, at a very fast speed I may add, and we’re whooping and screaming like kids as we race around his house when we hit a step.
It was like a slow motion comedy act. One minute we were careening around his downstairs like a two-man bob sled team. The next, I was upended and on all fours. Don’t forget I have one leg in a cast from waist to ankle so it was not an elegant fall.
Elliott dove around and grabbed me, full of concern, for about two seconds before he erupted into fits of laughter. There I was stranded on the floor waiting for him to compose himself long enough to collect me. That process did not do much for my ego, as this super fit, superhuman took three attempts to heave me back into my wheelchair.
“Should I worry for my life?” I ask when I’m planted back in safe and sound.
“No, why?” He cranes his head around to the front of the chair.
“Well, first you knock me over with your car and then you upend me out of the chair before I’m fully recovered. Once can be an accident you know, a second time, and people will ask questions.” I nod my head, acting all serious.
“Ah, now I wondered when that was going to come back to bite me on the ass. I guess I should be pleased it took for me to tip you out of your chair before you brought it up.” He thumps the back of my shoulder and continues pushing, at a much steadier pace, wheeling me with grace over to the sofa. Once he’s manhandled me out of my wheels and I’m lying legs up on the couch in a reasonably comfortable state, he finally straddles me.
It’s the best we can do under the circumstances.
“Now, what shall I do with you?” He grins. It’s a Cheshire Cat grin from one of his gorgeous ears to the other.
“Well, I did have something in mind.” I reach my head up and peck his chin.
“Do tell. But remember the doc said you have to restrain.” He wags his finger, loving the tease.
“I have to watch my blood pressure. But there’s nothing wrong with my hand.”
“That is a very fair point.” He nods, clearly very impressed by my ingenuity, although I’d be willing to put money on him having imagined this exact scenario all day. With no further prompting, he slips down his sweat pants. It’s been too long and I see him with fresh eyes. Obviously he’s wearing no underwear because this is Elliott and he thrives on showing off, so here he is, hard and ready in my face, begging for action.
