Copper and Salt, page 10
Sleep claimed him almost immediately, the steady beeping of Alex’s machines pulling him under.
He dreamed of a weeping child. Oren thought vaguely that they were in a bus terminal or somewhere similar—it was packed with people, faceless throngs that jostled and bumped him as they pushed by.
The crying was ahead of him, he thought, so he struggled in that direction, using his elbows to force his way through the crowds, his breathing growing labored as he fought for each inch forward.
The people vanished, growing suddenly insubstantial and misty as smoke, wisping away into nothing, and Oren stumbled and fell forward, landing on his knees in a meadow.
A little boy was crouched in front of him, both hands over his face as he wept.
“Hey,” Oren said, holding out a hand. “Hey, it’s okay, why are you crying?”
Alex twisted, tears streaking the dirt on his face, his brown eyes huge and full of grief. “I’ve lost him,” he whispered.
“Who?” Oren asked, but he knew the answer.
Alex covered his face again, looking impossibly small and defenseless, and his shoulders shook.
Oren came back to awareness slowly, consciousness seeping in around the edges. The machines were beeping, someone was talking on the phone at the nurses’ station outside, and… Oren sat up straight in bed as he realized that Alex was crying, curled up in a ball on the mattress, his thin frame heaving with the force of his sobs.
Oren nearly fell off his own bed, scrambling across the room to touch Alex’s shoulder. “Alex, wake up,” he whispered.
Alex flinched away and lifted his head, awareness filling his eyes. “Oren—”
“Scoot over,” Oren said.
Alex obeyed mutely and Oren slid onto the mattress, gathering Alex into his arms and pulling him close, careful not to dislodge his leads. He could feel Alex trembling against him, taking deep gulps of air in an attempt to keep from breaking down again, and Oren rubbed his arm.
“Let it go,” he said quietly. “Let me take it from you for a little while.”
Alex pressed his face into Oren’s chest and let the tears flow as Oren held him, crooning lullabies quietly to him in snatches of half-remembered Spanish until Alex’s sobs tapered off and he was finally still, limp and exhausted, in Oren’s arms.
When Maria came in an hour later, Alex was asleep again, still cradled in Oren’s embrace. She stopped and arched a brow.
“Not what I had in mind,” she said, her tone low.
Oren grimaced apologetically. “You said keep him quiet. This was the only thing I could think of to do.”
Maria woke Alex up gently and took his vitals, clicking her tongue at the fever he was still running. Then she left again, cocking a warning brow at Oren again on her way out the door.
Alone, Alex burrowed sleepily against Oren’s chest. “Dragă,” he murmured.
Oren rubbed his arm, feeling the fragile bones beneath Alex’s too-warm skin. “Hey you. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Alex said through a yawn. He rubbed his nose on Oren’s shirt, making Oren smile. “I am sorry I wake you.”
Oren scoffed quietly. “As if I’d pass up a chance to get my arms around you.”
Alex hid his face in Oren’s chest and huffed a soft laugh.
“Was it a nightmare?” Oren asked after a minute.
Alex nodded without lifting his head. “It is no matter,” he mumbled. “You can go back to you—your bed.”
“Nah, I like this one,” Oren said. “I think I’ll stay here.”
This time Alex did lift his head, looking up at him suspiciously. His face was pale, washed out by his illness and the moonlight that bathed them both through the window, and his curls tumbled forward over his eyes. Oren had to fight the by-now very familiar urge to kiss him yet again.
Instead he just smiled. “Would I be right in assuming that you and Mihai always shared a bed while in Andrei’s employ?”
Alex blinked, clearly parsing out Oren’s English in his head.
“Sorry,” Oren said hastily. “I meant, did you and Mihai sleep in the same bed?”
“Oh.” Alex nodded. “Da. Always together.”
“That’s what I figured,” Oren said. He was in the perfect position to press a kiss to Alex’s forehead, so he did, letting his lips linger on the soft skin near Alex’s temple as Alex turned into it, clutching Oren’s shirt, his eyes sliding closed.
Oren let the silence spin out, cradling Alex against him. You’re safe, he told him wordlessly, over and over. You’re not alone.
Finally, Alex relaxed into sleep, Oren’s shirt still between his fingers, and Oren held on.
He woke a few minutes before six and slid out of the bed without waking Alex. He could hear the nurses talking at their station, and he used the bathroom quickly and then slipped out the door, heading for the cafeteria.
His wallet had been in his pocket when they ran, and nearly a decade of hiding from the authorities had taught Oren caution, if nothing else. He had cash on him, which he used to pay for breakfast.
Settling in at a table in the corner with his oatmeal and fresh fruit, Oren glanced at a newspaper someone had left behind as he began to eat.
His attention sharpened immediately when he read the headline.
ONE PRESUMED DEAD IN FATAL HOUSE FIRE
Oren nearly knocked over his orange juice grabbing for the paper and scanned it as he held his breath.
Oren Asher, a talented local artist, is believed to have perished yesterday in the blaze that consumed the house he built himself, sources tell this paper. Mr. Asher was a respected member of the community, his creations in high demand, and there is no word yet from authorities on whether or not the fire was accidental or intentional.
There was more, but Oren put the paper down, staring unseeingly at the people getting breakfast, his mind spinning.
He didn’t linger over his meal, knowing Alex would get upset if he woke up and Oren wasn’t there. He grabbed a blueberry muffin off the buffet bar for Alex, figuring it would be a nice addition to whatever they gave him for breakfast, and headed back up.
Sure enough, he wasn’t even back to the room when he heard the commotion, Alex’s voice raised in terror cutting clearly through the hubbub.
Oren dropped the muffin and broke into a run, slamming the door open and falling through to behold two nurses holding Alex down as he thrashed.
“Where’s that fucking sedative?” one of the nurses shouted.
Oren hurled himself at the bed and Alex sobbed as he saw him, struggling to reach for him as the nearest nurse caught Oren’s arm and stopped him.
“Oren, please—” Alex was weeping outright and guilt shivered through Oren’s chest.
“You don’t need a sedative,” Oren said, jerking away. “Let me go, let him go, he’s okay, I promise, just let me hold him!”
The nurse let go and Oren scrambled for the bed, gathering Alex against him.
“Hey,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I had to be gone for shift change and I just went to get some breakfast. I’m here, I’m right here.”
Alex clutched at him, trembling. “I woke up, you were—I thought—”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Oren said, rubbing his back. “Everything’s okay, I promise. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
He was dimly aware of the nurses talking in low tones at the foot of the bed, but they didn’t say anything to him, so Oren kept his attention focused on Alex, whose trembling was beginning to lessen, although he was still clinging to Oren desperately.
“Well, I brought you a muffin,” Oren said, making his tone light, “but I dropped it when I heard the ruckus.”
Alex burrowed a little closer somehow. “What is… ruckus?”
“Noise, commotion,” Oren said against his hair. “I thought I was back in the circus there for a minute.”
Alex lifted his head, his brows drawing together. “You are… teasing me.”
Oren dropped a kiss on his nose. “Can’t get anything past you, I see!”
Alex blinked, startled, and his eyes narrowed. Just as Oren realized the nurses had left and they were alone, Alex leaned in and pressed their lips together.
Oren could taste the salt from Alex’s tears on his mouth, and that alone was enough to make him hesitate, but Alex made a noise in the back of his throat, soft and supplicating, and Oren closed his eyes and kissed him back.
It was slow and sweet and gentle, like the summer wind on his face or that warm satisfaction in his chest when he got a carving just right.
Alex broke it first, kissing along the line of Oren’s jaw. “Dragă,” he whispered between kisses, his lips soft on Oren’s stubble, dragging along his skin and making Oren shiver.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Alex tilted his head back and considered Oren’s face, a tiny smile curving his lips. “Maybe someday I tell you,” he said, and tucked his head back against Oren’s shoulder.
Oren cupped his skull, feeling the hard curve of bone, smiling against his hair. “So I was getting breakfast and I saw something interesting in the paper. They covered my house burning down, and I’m assumed to have died in the fire.”
Alex stiffened and Oren pushed him away just far enough to see his face. Sure enough, there was guilt written all over it.
“No, none of that,” Oren said firmly, pulling him close again. “My house is not your fault, do you hear me?”
“Happened because of me,” Alex whispered, his voice muffled against Oren’s shirt. “Is my fault.”
Oren tightened his grip. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t change how I feel.”
Someone knocked on the door and Oren lifted his head, startled. One of the nurses from earlier was standing there and she motioned toward the hallway.
“Hey, I have to go talk to a nurse,” Oren said.
Alex looked at him, clearly worried, and Oren cupped his cheek briefly.
“I’ll leave the door open and stay where you can see me, okay?”
Alex hesitated, chewing on his lip, but finally nodded, and Oren slid off the bed to join the nurse in the doorway.
She was short, plump, and graying, with fine lines bracketing her eyes and a name tag that said ROSA.
“What the hell was that?” she said, her voice quiet but her eyes fierce.
Oren winced, glancing at Alex, who was watching them anxiously. “He’s got… separation issues. He was treated really badly before we met, it’s left him with some severe emotional… baggage. I think he’s sort of… latched onto me as his security blanket?”
“Looks like you’ve done some latching of your own,” Rosa said dryly.
Oren just shrugged, sending Alex a smile that said everything’s fine. “Look, I’m sorry about that. Maria told me not to be here during shift change and I thought it’d be okay if I nipped down and got some breakfast. I didn’t realize he’d freak out quite so… thoroughly.”
Rosa made a harrumph noise and crossed her arms. “What exactly is your relationship to that young man?”
“We’re friends,” Oren said. “We were in the woods together for several days and we formed a… bond.”
Rosa lifted an eyebrow. “And you’ve known him for how long, exactly?”
“I’m not sure how that’s any of your business,” Oren said. Alex was watching him, clearly still worried, and Oren sent him a reassuring smile. “Look, is there a problem?”
Rosa shrugged. “We don’t have any insurance on file, and he has no way of paying his bill here. The law states we have to treat him anyway, but the hospital isn’t going to spend any more on him than it absolutely has to. Which means that he’s going to be discharged probably today or tomorrow at the latest. I just want to make sure he has somewhere to go and that he’ll be taken care of.”
“He will,” Oren said. “He’s got me, I’ll take care of him, I promise.”
“And your name is?”
On the verge of telling her, Oren remembered that he was supposed to be dead. “Osmundo Acevedo,” he said. “Can I go? He’s starting to get upset.”
“Don’t go far,” Rosa said, but Oren was already back inside the room, letting the door close behind him.
He’d been telling the truth—Alex had been looking more and more upset throughout the conversation, and he visibly relaxed as soon as Oren closed the door and crossed to the bed.
“Sorry about that,” Oren said, sitting down in the chair next to him and taking Alex’s hand. “Would you like me to go back to the cafeteria and get you a muffin? They have some blueberry ones that are pretty good, and the bran looked tasty too.”
“No,” Alex said, gripping Oren’s hand tightly and shaking his head. “Please, don’t leave.”
“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll stay,” Oren said. A thought occurred to him. “Alex… what’s your last name?”
“Costea,” Alex said. “Why?”
“I just… realized I didn’t know it,” Oren said. He cleared his throat. “So the paper reported that I died in the fire, right?”
Alex nodded.
“That’s a really good thing,” Oren said. “It means that whoever shot at us, it definitely wasn’t Andrei.”
Alex’s brows knitted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if it had been Andrei, he’d have chased us down and made sure we were dead,” Oren said. “The fact that we’re still alive means that he sent his goon—what was his name?”
“Nikolai,” Alex whispered.
Oren squeezed his hand. “And Nikolai decided we’d freeze to death and there was no point in chasing us. He must have told his boss we were dead.”
Alex’s eyes opened wide. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Oren said, grinning at him. “If Andrei thinks we’re dead, we’ve got the drop on him. Or at the very least, a slight advantage. But there are a few things we’re going to have to do before we storm the castle.”
“It is house,” Alex protested.
Oren put his head down on the bed and gave in to the laughter. It felt good to let it roll through him in delighted waves, and when he looked up to see Alex scowling at him, arms crossed across his chest, it just made him laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I promise, when this is all over, we’re going to rent The Princess Bride and you’re going to actually start understanding at least half my references. In the meantime, there’s something else I wanted to ask you.”
He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and took Alex’s hand in both of his. “Alex Costea, will you marry me?”
10
Alex’s mouth fell open and he jerked his hand out of Oren’s, sitting up straight in the bed. “What?”
Oren rubbed the back of his neck. “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” he admitted ruefully.
“You can’t—you do not know—Oren, why?”
Oren held out his hand, asking silently for Alex to take it, and after a long moment, Alex did. Oren squeezed it gently.
“Couple of reasons,” he said. “The main one being, once this is all over, if we’re married, you can’t be deported as easily. It’s still a possibility, especially if we get someone looking to make an example of us, but it could help. And since Mihai is your brother, and he’s still a juvenile, then hopefully the judge will see that you’re the best person to take care of him, considering your parents sold him and all.”
“So he would not be deported either?” Alex asked, that crease back between his eyebrows, and Oren wanted to kiss it, smooth it away, but he just nodded.
“That’s the theory, anyway. We might get a hardass judge, but it’s still going to help. Plus, this way once everything has blown over, if our gamble works and the judge is lenient, and if you’re willing to stay married to me for a few years, then you can apply for citizenship of your own and stay in the country. If you want, I mean.”
Silence fell except for the beeping of the machines as Alex considered and Oren waited, holding his breath.
“Why?” Alex asked again finally, and Oren knew what he meant. Why do this for me?
Oren sighed. “I was a loner in school, before I met Ben. He… pushed me out of my shell, forced me to have fun in spite of myself. He was good for me, and when I lost him….” He swallowed around the grief and Alex’s hand tightened on his. Oren lifted a shoulder, trying for a smile. “I ran away from life,” he managed. “I hid from the world, until you fell into my lap.”
Alex said nothing, watching him with an intensity that bordered on unnerving.
“Ben would want me to do this,” Oren whispered. He could feel tears prickling at his eyelids, but he blinked them back fiercely, focusing on Alex’s face. “And I want to help you, Alex. You’ve saved me as much as the other way around.”
Alex covered his eyes with his free hand, drawing his knees up to his chest, and Oren tightened his grip.
“Alex, sweetheart, say something.”
Alex’s shoulders shook. “I do not deserve—”
“Bullshit, yes you do,” Oren interrupted. “You deserve the world, catâr.”
“Is… legal?” Alex asked, lowering his hands. “What if—”
“I have an idea about that too,” Oren said. “It is, strictly speaking, not exactly legal in the broadest sense of the word—” He cut off at the confusion on Alex’s face. “It’s not legal, no. But I think I can still make it work.”
Alex took a deep breath. “Bine,” he said abruptly. “I will marry you, Oren.”
“Yeah?” Oren breathed, feeling a smile spreading across his face. “You will?”
Alex nodded, matching his smile as he ducked his head. “Da, Oren.”
“Oh, thank God,” Oren said, half-laughing as he stood up. “Can I kiss you?”
“Always,” Alex said, reaching for him. “You never have to ask, Oren.”
Oren slid onto the bed and gathered Alex against him, feeling his frame go instantly boneless, loose and trusting in Oren’s arms.
Alex tilted his chin up, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth parted in anticipation and Oren caught his breath.
He dreamed of a weeping child. Oren thought vaguely that they were in a bus terminal or somewhere similar—it was packed with people, faceless throngs that jostled and bumped him as they pushed by.
The crying was ahead of him, he thought, so he struggled in that direction, using his elbows to force his way through the crowds, his breathing growing labored as he fought for each inch forward.
The people vanished, growing suddenly insubstantial and misty as smoke, wisping away into nothing, and Oren stumbled and fell forward, landing on his knees in a meadow.
A little boy was crouched in front of him, both hands over his face as he wept.
“Hey,” Oren said, holding out a hand. “Hey, it’s okay, why are you crying?”
Alex twisted, tears streaking the dirt on his face, his brown eyes huge and full of grief. “I’ve lost him,” he whispered.
“Who?” Oren asked, but he knew the answer.
Alex covered his face again, looking impossibly small and defenseless, and his shoulders shook.
Oren came back to awareness slowly, consciousness seeping in around the edges. The machines were beeping, someone was talking on the phone at the nurses’ station outside, and… Oren sat up straight in bed as he realized that Alex was crying, curled up in a ball on the mattress, his thin frame heaving with the force of his sobs.
Oren nearly fell off his own bed, scrambling across the room to touch Alex’s shoulder. “Alex, wake up,” he whispered.
Alex flinched away and lifted his head, awareness filling his eyes. “Oren—”
“Scoot over,” Oren said.
Alex obeyed mutely and Oren slid onto the mattress, gathering Alex into his arms and pulling him close, careful not to dislodge his leads. He could feel Alex trembling against him, taking deep gulps of air in an attempt to keep from breaking down again, and Oren rubbed his arm.
“Let it go,” he said quietly. “Let me take it from you for a little while.”
Alex pressed his face into Oren’s chest and let the tears flow as Oren held him, crooning lullabies quietly to him in snatches of half-remembered Spanish until Alex’s sobs tapered off and he was finally still, limp and exhausted, in Oren’s arms.
When Maria came in an hour later, Alex was asleep again, still cradled in Oren’s embrace. She stopped and arched a brow.
“Not what I had in mind,” she said, her tone low.
Oren grimaced apologetically. “You said keep him quiet. This was the only thing I could think of to do.”
Maria woke Alex up gently and took his vitals, clicking her tongue at the fever he was still running. Then she left again, cocking a warning brow at Oren again on her way out the door.
Alone, Alex burrowed sleepily against Oren’s chest. “Dragă,” he murmured.
Oren rubbed his arm, feeling the fragile bones beneath Alex’s too-warm skin. “Hey you. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Alex said through a yawn. He rubbed his nose on Oren’s shirt, making Oren smile. “I am sorry I wake you.”
Oren scoffed quietly. “As if I’d pass up a chance to get my arms around you.”
Alex hid his face in Oren’s chest and huffed a soft laugh.
“Was it a nightmare?” Oren asked after a minute.
Alex nodded without lifting his head. “It is no matter,” he mumbled. “You can go back to you—your bed.”
“Nah, I like this one,” Oren said. “I think I’ll stay here.”
This time Alex did lift his head, looking up at him suspiciously. His face was pale, washed out by his illness and the moonlight that bathed them both through the window, and his curls tumbled forward over his eyes. Oren had to fight the by-now very familiar urge to kiss him yet again.
Instead he just smiled. “Would I be right in assuming that you and Mihai always shared a bed while in Andrei’s employ?”
Alex blinked, clearly parsing out Oren’s English in his head.
“Sorry,” Oren said hastily. “I meant, did you and Mihai sleep in the same bed?”
“Oh.” Alex nodded. “Da. Always together.”
“That’s what I figured,” Oren said. He was in the perfect position to press a kiss to Alex’s forehead, so he did, letting his lips linger on the soft skin near Alex’s temple as Alex turned into it, clutching Oren’s shirt, his eyes sliding closed.
Oren let the silence spin out, cradling Alex against him. You’re safe, he told him wordlessly, over and over. You’re not alone.
Finally, Alex relaxed into sleep, Oren’s shirt still between his fingers, and Oren held on.
He woke a few minutes before six and slid out of the bed without waking Alex. He could hear the nurses talking at their station, and he used the bathroom quickly and then slipped out the door, heading for the cafeteria.
His wallet had been in his pocket when they ran, and nearly a decade of hiding from the authorities had taught Oren caution, if nothing else. He had cash on him, which he used to pay for breakfast.
Settling in at a table in the corner with his oatmeal and fresh fruit, Oren glanced at a newspaper someone had left behind as he began to eat.
His attention sharpened immediately when he read the headline.
ONE PRESUMED DEAD IN FATAL HOUSE FIRE
Oren nearly knocked over his orange juice grabbing for the paper and scanned it as he held his breath.
Oren Asher, a talented local artist, is believed to have perished yesterday in the blaze that consumed the house he built himself, sources tell this paper. Mr. Asher was a respected member of the community, his creations in high demand, and there is no word yet from authorities on whether or not the fire was accidental or intentional.
There was more, but Oren put the paper down, staring unseeingly at the people getting breakfast, his mind spinning.
He didn’t linger over his meal, knowing Alex would get upset if he woke up and Oren wasn’t there. He grabbed a blueberry muffin off the buffet bar for Alex, figuring it would be a nice addition to whatever they gave him for breakfast, and headed back up.
Sure enough, he wasn’t even back to the room when he heard the commotion, Alex’s voice raised in terror cutting clearly through the hubbub.
Oren dropped the muffin and broke into a run, slamming the door open and falling through to behold two nurses holding Alex down as he thrashed.
“Where’s that fucking sedative?” one of the nurses shouted.
Oren hurled himself at the bed and Alex sobbed as he saw him, struggling to reach for him as the nearest nurse caught Oren’s arm and stopped him.
“Oren, please—” Alex was weeping outright and guilt shivered through Oren’s chest.
“You don’t need a sedative,” Oren said, jerking away. “Let me go, let him go, he’s okay, I promise, just let me hold him!”
The nurse let go and Oren scrambled for the bed, gathering Alex against him.
“Hey,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I had to be gone for shift change and I just went to get some breakfast. I’m here, I’m right here.”
Alex clutched at him, trembling. “I woke up, you were—I thought—”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Oren said, rubbing his back. “Everything’s okay, I promise. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
He was dimly aware of the nurses talking in low tones at the foot of the bed, but they didn’t say anything to him, so Oren kept his attention focused on Alex, whose trembling was beginning to lessen, although he was still clinging to Oren desperately.
“Well, I brought you a muffin,” Oren said, making his tone light, “but I dropped it when I heard the ruckus.”
Alex burrowed a little closer somehow. “What is… ruckus?”
“Noise, commotion,” Oren said against his hair. “I thought I was back in the circus there for a minute.”
Alex lifted his head, his brows drawing together. “You are… teasing me.”
Oren dropped a kiss on his nose. “Can’t get anything past you, I see!”
Alex blinked, startled, and his eyes narrowed. Just as Oren realized the nurses had left and they were alone, Alex leaned in and pressed their lips together.
Oren could taste the salt from Alex’s tears on his mouth, and that alone was enough to make him hesitate, but Alex made a noise in the back of his throat, soft and supplicating, and Oren closed his eyes and kissed him back.
It was slow and sweet and gentle, like the summer wind on his face or that warm satisfaction in his chest when he got a carving just right.
Alex broke it first, kissing along the line of Oren’s jaw. “Dragă,” he whispered between kisses, his lips soft on Oren’s stubble, dragging along his skin and making Oren shiver.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Alex tilted his head back and considered Oren’s face, a tiny smile curving his lips. “Maybe someday I tell you,” he said, and tucked his head back against Oren’s shoulder.
Oren cupped his skull, feeling the hard curve of bone, smiling against his hair. “So I was getting breakfast and I saw something interesting in the paper. They covered my house burning down, and I’m assumed to have died in the fire.”
Alex stiffened and Oren pushed him away just far enough to see his face. Sure enough, there was guilt written all over it.
“No, none of that,” Oren said firmly, pulling him close again. “My house is not your fault, do you hear me?”
“Happened because of me,” Alex whispered, his voice muffled against Oren’s shirt. “Is my fault.”
Oren tightened his grip. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t change how I feel.”
Someone knocked on the door and Oren lifted his head, startled. One of the nurses from earlier was standing there and she motioned toward the hallway.
“Hey, I have to go talk to a nurse,” Oren said.
Alex looked at him, clearly worried, and Oren cupped his cheek briefly.
“I’ll leave the door open and stay where you can see me, okay?”
Alex hesitated, chewing on his lip, but finally nodded, and Oren slid off the bed to join the nurse in the doorway.
She was short, plump, and graying, with fine lines bracketing her eyes and a name tag that said ROSA.
“What the hell was that?” she said, her voice quiet but her eyes fierce.
Oren winced, glancing at Alex, who was watching them anxiously. “He’s got… separation issues. He was treated really badly before we met, it’s left him with some severe emotional… baggage. I think he’s sort of… latched onto me as his security blanket?”
“Looks like you’ve done some latching of your own,” Rosa said dryly.
Oren just shrugged, sending Alex a smile that said everything’s fine. “Look, I’m sorry about that. Maria told me not to be here during shift change and I thought it’d be okay if I nipped down and got some breakfast. I didn’t realize he’d freak out quite so… thoroughly.”
Rosa made a harrumph noise and crossed her arms. “What exactly is your relationship to that young man?”
“We’re friends,” Oren said. “We were in the woods together for several days and we formed a… bond.”
Rosa lifted an eyebrow. “And you’ve known him for how long, exactly?”
“I’m not sure how that’s any of your business,” Oren said. Alex was watching him, clearly still worried, and Oren sent him a reassuring smile. “Look, is there a problem?”
Rosa shrugged. “We don’t have any insurance on file, and he has no way of paying his bill here. The law states we have to treat him anyway, but the hospital isn’t going to spend any more on him than it absolutely has to. Which means that he’s going to be discharged probably today or tomorrow at the latest. I just want to make sure he has somewhere to go and that he’ll be taken care of.”
“He will,” Oren said. “He’s got me, I’ll take care of him, I promise.”
“And your name is?”
On the verge of telling her, Oren remembered that he was supposed to be dead. “Osmundo Acevedo,” he said. “Can I go? He’s starting to get upset.”
“Don’t go far,” Rosa said, but Oren was already back inside the room, letting the door close behind him.
He’d been telling the truth—Alex had been looking more and more upset throughout the conversation, and he visibly relaxed as soon as Oren closed the door and crossed to the bed.
“Sorry about that,” Oren said, sitting down in the chair next to him and taking Alex’s hand. “Would you like me to go back to the cafeteria and get you a muffin? They have some blueberry ones that are pretty good, and the bran looked tasty too.”
“No,” Alex said, gripping Oren’s hand tightly and shaking his head. “Please, don’t leave.”
“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll stay,” Oren said. A thought occurred to him. “Alex… what’s your last name?”
“Costea,” Alex said. “Why?”
“I just… realized I didn’t know it,” Oren said. He cleared his throat. “So the paper reported that I died in the fire, right?”
Alex nodded.
“That’s a really good thing,” Oren said. “It means that whoever shot at us, it definitely wasn’t Andrei.”
Alex’s brows knitted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if it had been Andrei, he’d have chased us down and made sure we were dead,” Oren said. “The fact that we’re still alive means that he sent his goon—what was his name?”
“Nikolai,” Alex whispered.
Oren squeezed his hand. “And Nikolai decided we’d freeze to death and there was no point in chasing us. He must have told his boss we were dead.”
Alex’s eyes opened wide. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Oren said, grinning at him. “If Andrei thinks we’re dead, we’ve got the drop on him. Or at the very least, a slight advantage. But there are a few things we’re going to have to do before we storm the castle.”
“It is house,” Alex protested.
Oren put his head down on the bed and gave in to the laughter. It felt good to let it roll through him in delighted waves, and when he looked up to see Alex scowling at him, arms crossed across his chest, it just made him laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I promise, when this is all over, we’re going to rent The Princess Bride and you’re going to actually start understanding at least half my references. In the meantime, there’s something else I wanted to ask you.”
He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and took Alex’s hand in both of his. “Alex Costea, will you marry me?”
10
Alex’s mouth fell open and he jerked his hand out of Oren’s, sitting up straight in the bed. “What?”
Oren rubbed the back of his neck. “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” he admitted ruefully.
“You can’t—you do not know—Oren, why?”
Oren held out his hand, asking silently for Alex to take it, and after a long moment, Alex did. Oren squeezed it gently.
“Couple of reasons,” he said. “The main one being, once this is all over, if we’re married, you can’t be deported as easily. It’s still a possibility, especially if we get someone looking to make an example of us, but it could help. And since Mihai is your brother, and he’s still a juvenile, then hopefully the judge will see that you’re the best person to take care of him, considering your parents sold him and all.”
“So he would not be deported either?” Alex asked, that crease back between his eyebrows, and Oren wanted to kiss it, smooth it away, but he just nodded.
“That’s the theory, anyway. We might get a hardass judge, but it’s still going to help. Plus, this way once everything has blown over, if our gamble works and the judge is lenient, and if you’re willing to stay married to me for a few years, then you can apply for citizenship of your own and stay in the country. If you want, I mean.”
Silence fell except for the beeping of the machines as Alex considered and Oren waited, holding his breath.
“Why?” Alex asked again finally, and Oren knew what he meant. Why do this for me?
Oren sighed. “I was a loner in school, before I met Ben. He… pushed me out of my shell, forced me to have fun in spite of myself. He was good for me, and when I lost him….” He swallowed around the grief and Alex’s hand tightened on his. Oren lifted a shoulder, trying for a smile. “I ran away from life,” he managed. “I hid from the world, until you fell into my lap.”
Alex said nothing, watching him with an intensity that bordered on unnerving.
“Ben would want me to do this,” Oren whispered. He could feel tears prickling at his eyelids, but he blinked them back fiercely, focusing on Alex’s face. “And I want to help you, Alex. You’ve saved me as much as the other way around.”
Alex covered his eyes with his free hand, drawing his knees up to his chest, and Oren tightened his grip.
“Alex, sweetheart, say something.”
Alex’s shoulders shook. “I do not deserve—”
“Bullshit, yes you do,” Oren interrupted. “You deserve the world, catâr.”
“Is… legal?” Alex asked, lowering his hands. “What if—”
“I have an idea about that too,” Oren said. “It is, strictly speaking, not exactly legal in the broadest sense of the word—” He cut off at the confusion on Alex’s face. “It’s not legal, no. But I think I can still make it work.”
Alex took a deep breath. “Bine,” he said abruptly. “I will marry you, Oren.”
“Yeah?” Oren breathed, feeling a smile spreading across his face. “You will?”
Alex nodded, matching his smile as he ducked his head. “Da, Oren.”
“Oh, thank God,” Oren said, half-laughing as he stood up. “Can I kiss you?”
“Always,” Alex said, reaching for him. “You never have to ask, Oren.”
Oren slid onto the bed and gathered Alex against him, feeling his frame go instantly boneless, loose and trusting in Oren’s arms.
Alex tilted his chin up, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth parted in anticipation and Oren caught his breath.
