Butterfly Page 18
“What?” Saint said, and Felix jerked, fear running down his spine in an icy rivulet. “How bad?” Oh god. “Text him the address,” Saint snapped, and hung up.
“What is it?” Felix demanded. “Saint—”
“Fisher’s been in an accident.” The words hung in the air, hard and uncompromising, and dread turned Felix’s bones to dust. “That was Leo. He said—it’s… not good.”
“I have to go,” Felix said, and suddenly he could move again. He dragged his jersey off, dropping it to yank at the buckles of his chest protector. He couldn’t seem to make his fingers work right, and he swore, filthy and vicious as he fought the clasps.
Then Saint was there, unbuckling the straps, helping Felix peel it off and drop it to the side. Felix was frantic, breath coming in sharp, short pants, as Saint dropped to his knees to start working on his leg pads.
“Coach,” Felix said, looking up suddenly. “I have to—”
“Of course you do,” Flanahan said. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t seem angry, either. “Vanya, start warming up. You’re in.”
Between them, Saint and Felix had him out of his gear in record time. Felix grabbed a pair of sweats and dragged them on over his UnderArmour, hands shaking with his haste, and shoved his feet into shoes. Saint held out his phone.
“Leo texted you the address,” he said. “Go.”
Felix just nodded, grabbed the phone, and ran for the door. In his car, he put the address in the text into the navigator and peeled out, tires making an ungodly screech as he roared from the parking garage.
Please let him be okay, he thought as he wove between cars, heedless of traffic laws. Please, Fisher, don’t you dare— He couldn’t even finish the thought, gripping the wheel until his hands ached.
Somehow he made it without being pulled over. The flashing red and blue lights told him he was there before he rounded the corner and hit the brakes so hard he left a trail of rubber on the asphalt.
Fisher’s beaten up SUV was on its side, the hood crumpled in a ragged semicircle like something massive had tried to take a bite out of it. Nausea rose in Felix’s throat and he scrambled out of his car, running for the wreckage.
A fireman caught him before he got there. “Sir, sir, you can’t go over there!” The hands were rough, the voice uncompromising, and Felix twisted in his grasp.
“Please, I have to—Fisher!” His legs threatened to give out. Was Fisher still in the car? Was that blood on the pavement? His heart was hammering so hard he couldn’t breathe. “I’m his—please, I need to know he’s okay. Please—”
The fireman’s grip loosened but he didn’t let go. “Are you family?”
“I’m—” Felix swallowed tears, clutching the man’s reflective vest. “I’m not—is he alive?”
“Felix?” Fisher sounded shocked, worried, but alive alive alive and Felix’s knees nearly buckled.
He tore away from the fireman and bolted for Fisher, coming from the direction of the ambulance. There was blood and soot on his face, streaking his beard, and Felix swallowed a sob, pulling up short.
“You’re hurt,” he said, hands out, terrified to touch.
Fisher felt at his head, wincing. “I’m fine. Cuts and bruises. Felix, why are you here?”
Felix took a step forward, hands still out. One more step, Fisher looking startled but holding his ground, and Felix was able to press his fingertips to the dark cotton shirt Fisher was wearing, over his heart.
“You’re alive,” he whispered, and blinked hard. “Okay. That’s good. That’s so good.” Fisher was distorted in his vision when he looked up, blurry through the tears, and Felix came back to himself with a jolt. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back. His voice sounded oddly formal to his own ears. “I should not have—I just needed to know—”
Fisher caught his wrist and Felix went very still. Fisher’s fingers were warm and strong, thumb sweeping soft over Felix’s jackrabbiting pulse point.
“I’m fine,” Fisher said, voice low. “Did you think I wasn’t?”
Felix swallowed hard. “I—Leo called. Said you were in an accident.” He looked up suddenly. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.” Fisher’s eyes were so intense, Felix thought he might be drowning in them. “Felix—”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” Felix blurted, and Fisher’s face went slack with shock. Felix forged on. “I lied to you and it was wrong, I’m sorry Fisher, I’m so sorry, I know you can’t forgive me but I was just so afraid of losing you—”
Fisher took one quick step forward and cupped Felix’s face in both hands. “I love you,” he said, eyes so dark Felix was drowning in them. “I love you and I never should have reacted like that. I’m sorry, Felix. You did nothing wrong, do you hear me?”
Felix swallowed a sob and reached for him but Fisher was already there, closing the distance so their mouths could meet. Fisher tasted like blood, bitter copper in Felix’s mouth, but his breath was warm and his lips were soft, and Felix closed his eyes and held on tight, standing in the bitterly cold night and feeling nothing but Fisher around him.
It was several minutes before they broke for air, and even then they clung to each other, unwilling to move even a few inches apart.
“Je t’aime, mon pécheur,” Felix whispered, and Fisher’s smile spread wide and sweet over his face.
“You’ll have to translate that,” he said, but his twitching lips gave his words the lie.
“Or you’ll have to learn French,” Felix countered, and pulled him in for another kiss.
33
It took a while to sort everything out. Fisher and Leo had been on their way out for the evening when a semi had lost control and barreled into them, crumpling Fisher’s SUV like it was tinfoil. But the restraint system had saved their lives and they’d been able to climb out the shattered window, shaken up and with cuts and bruises, but nothing worse.
“You told him I was dying?” Fisher demanded of Leo, who had a scrape on his forehead and his arm in a sling for a wrenched elbow.
“In my defense, I wasn’t exactly at my most logical,” Leo said. He pushed his lower lip out, scowling. “I’m injured, don’t yell at me.”
“Christ, Leo, you scared the shit out of him,” Fisher said. He turned to Felix, who was shivering in his thin undershirt, and seemed to realize what he was wearing for the first time. “What—Felix, where were you when Leo called?” He took his jacket off and wrapped it around Felix’s shoulders.
Felix tugged it closer, taking a deep breath of Fisher’s warm cologne. “It’s not important.”
Fisher narrowed his eyes. “Felix.”
“At a game,” Felix said reluctantly.
Fisher’s mouth fell open. “You left a game? A game I assume you were playing in? Because you were worried about me?”
“Of course,” Felix said.
“But we weren’t—aren’t—I yelled at you the last time we spoke, and you still left in the middle of a game to make sure I was okay?”
“Yes…,” Felix said slowly. He couldn’t decipher Fisher’s expression. “Are you… angry? I know you told me to never come near you again, I’m sorry, I was just so worried—”
“Felix—” Fisher cut himself off and reached for him, hauling him into a crushing hug. He buried his face in the crook of Felix’s neck, his breath ragged, and Felix held him, giving Leo a questioning look over Fisher’s shoulder.
Leo shrugged. “Can we go home, maybe? I can’t afford a hospital.”
“I can,” Felix said, still holding Fisher. “Do you need one?”
“Nope.” Leo smiled at him. “But I do want to get out of the cold.”
Fisher raised his head and wiped his face.
“Are you crying?” Felix demanded, suddenly alarmed.
Fisher hiccupped a wet laugh. “Felix, this whole time I’ve been afraid we wouldn’t work because you’re too dedicated to your job to care about me. And you—” He shook his head, words failing him.
“Yes,” Felix said instantly.
“One of the officers will wait for the tow truck,” the paramedic said when Fisher handed the forms back. “You’re free to go.”
Felix bundled them into his Porsche immediately, Leo making awed noises over the leather seats.
“Don’t get blood on ‘em,” Fisher said to him.
“I don’t care if you do,” Felix responded, turning the car on. “Back to your place? Leo, where do you live?”
Leo made a face as Felix glanced in the mirror. “I’d rather not deal with my stupid roommates. Fish, can I crash—poor choice of words, sorry—at your place tonight?”
“Of course,” Fisher said. He reached across the console and put a hand on Felix’s thigh. There were dark circles under his eyes, but his smile was genuine when Felix laced their fingers together and looked at him. “Hey,” he said softly. “I really missed you.”
Felix squeezed his hand, watching the road. “I missed you too, pêcheur.”
They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, Felix too relieved and wrung out to think of anything to say, and neither Leo nor Fisher seemed inclined to break the silence either.
When he parked at the curb, Leo was the first out of the car, saying something over his shoulder about the bathroom before slamming the door.
Fisher sat with Felix a minute, watching him in the amber glow of the streetlight.
“I’ve been trying to think of how to apologize to you for a month now,” he said.
Felix blinked. “You—but it wasn’t your fault.”
“Don’t even start,” Fisher said. He stroked Felix’s knuckles. “We both know it was my pigheadedness that got us into this.”
“No,” Felix protested. “I said I didn’t want a relationship, I let it go on too long without talking to you even when I realized I wanted more. I was afraid to admit it to you. It was stupid.”
Fisher smiled at him, sweet and a little sad. “You were only afraid to say anything because I had such a stupid fucking hangup about hockey. And then I got mad when I found out, like it was your fault somehow?” He shook his head. “I’ve been a complete idiot. It doesn’t matter what you do, baby. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that for a while now.”
“You’re—okay with the hockey?” Felix whispered, a lump in his throat.
“It’s part of you, and I’m all in,” Fisher said. “I’m done being an idiot.” He paused. “Well, about this, anyway.” His teeth flashed with his grin, but then he sobered. “I’ve watched all your games.”
It was not unlike being hit in the head by a two by four.
“You what?”
“Well, all I could find,” Fisher amended. “I wasn’t ready to pay for tickets until I’d apologized to you properly, but I’ve watched all your interviews and games, the specials—did Saint really wear a giant teddy bear costume?”
Felix couldn’t stop his snort of laughter. “He did. We chirped him for months on that. All my interviews? There are… a lot.”
“Well, I didn’t have the real thing, I had to make do somehow.” Fisher sobered. “Will you—come inside with me? Just for a little bit? Or do you have to go back? It’s okay if you do, I should have asked—”
“I don’t,” Felix said. “But I have a better idea. Come home with me.”
Fisher’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Is Leo safe to be left on his own?”
That made Fisher laugh. “He’s not a toddler.”
“No,” Felix protested, laughing with him. “I mean with his injuries!”
Inexplicably, this made Fisher’s eyes soften. “You know that was one of the first things that drew me to you?”
“What?”
“How kind you are.” Fisher brought Felix’s hand to his mouth and kissed along his knuckles, lips slow and lingering. “That first night—remember it?”
Felix coughed a laugh. “Difficult to forget.”
“You put a pillow under Leo’s head after—when we were done.”
“I did?”
Fisher’s mouth curved against Felix’s skin. “And you asked how he was the next day. You thought to ask about him tonight even though you were clearly out of your head with worry about me. You’re so kind, love.”
The word made Felix shiver. It still didn’t feel quite real.
“But back to your question, I’m sure he’ll be fine. In fact, he can walk Maya for me. I’ll just go get a change of clothes. As long as I can use your shower?”
Felix laughed at him, twisting his wrist to reach up and flick the tip of Fisher’s nose. “Of course. You go in, I’ll tell Saint everything’s okay.”
Once Fisher was out of the car, Felix pulled out his phone. He hadn’t bothered calling before, because Saint and the rest of the team had still had a hockey game to play and media obligations after, win or lose. He was probably still talking to the press, but at least Felix could leave him a message.
Saint answered on the first ring. “Fee?”
“How are you already free?” Felix asked.
“Caz took the interviews, I was able to duck out early. Are you okay? Where are you? Which hospital? How’s Fisher?”
“Fisher’s fine. No hospital. Bumps and scrapes, that’s all.”
“But Leo—”
Felix leaned his head against the seatrest and closed his eyes. “I don’t know if he deliberately overexaggerated the severity of his injuries or if he was truly so shaken up that he thought it was that bad. But they’re both fine. Just sore.”
“Thank God,” Saint said. “And you?”
“I—Saint, he loves me still.” Tears inexplicably stung Felix’s eyes and he took a shaky breath.
“Of course he does,” Saint said instantly. “Does that mean—”
“Oui,” Felix husked. “He—I told him. A-apologized. He said… it was not my fault, that he never should have reacted as he did.”
“Goddamn right,” Saint said. “Sorry, Fee, I didn’t say it before because it wasn’t what you needed to hear, but he acted like a fucking idiot and I wanted to kick his ass.”
Felix’s laugh was waterlogged. “No need. Not anymore. He’s—I’m taking him to my place tonight.”
Saint caught his breath. “Are you—no. Okay, Fee. I’ll see you… tomorrow? Will you be at practice?”
“Yes,” Felix said. Fisher was coming out of the house, Leo backlit in the doorway as Fisher made his way down the steps, a backpack over one shoulder. “I have to go—wait. Did we win?”
“Vanya got you your shutout,” Saint said, laughing quietly.
“Good for him. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Je t’aime,” Saint said.
“Je t’aime aussi,” Felix said, and hung up as Fisher opened the car door, giving him a quizzical smile.
“Is he sufficiently reassured? How badly does he want to kick my ass?”
Felix started the car and Fisher slid inside, tossing the backpack on the seat behind him before leaning over to kiss Felix’s cheek.
“How did you know he wanted to do that?” Felix asked.
Fisher snorted a laugh. “Pretty obvious, really. And well-deserved.”
“No.” Felix took his hand as he pulled away from the curb. “You had your reasons.”
“My reasons were stupid, let’s talk about something else. How have you been? The team’s close to clinching, isn’t it?”
Felix shot him a startled look. “How did you know that?”
“I’m all in,” Fisher repeated. “I haven’t gone to your games yet but I told you I’ve watched them all. You’re incredible, by the way. You’re so fast, I don’t know how you do it. And the flexibility makes a lot more sense now.”
Overwhelmed, Felix pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
“Felix? What’s wrong?”
“I just—” Felix managed, and reached for him.
Fisher met him halfway and Felix hiccuped against his mouth, fighting the tears.
“Don’t cry, baby,” Fisher whispered, kissing along his jaw. “It’s okay now. Will you take me home? I need to hold you properly.”
* * *
The drive didn’t seem to take long at all, Felix sneaking looks at Fisher every few minutes to reassure himself he was really there and finding Fisher looking back at him every time.
He led the way to his front door, Fisher close on his heels.
“This is nice,” Fisher said as Felix turned on the lights. “It’s… cozy.”
Felix rubbed his arm, suddenly diffident. “My first house was too much. In every way. When I ended up having to move, I looked for something that fit me better. It means I can’t host the holiday dinner, but otherwise it’s perfect.”
“We need to talk,” Fisher said.
A jolt of fear rooted Felix’s feet to the floor. “Already?” he said, trying for a joking tone, and Fisher’s eyebrows went up. He took two quick steps and kissed him, hard and deep.
“Not like that,” he said when he lifted his head. “But I think we need to… clear the air.”
“Ah. Yes. I suppose you’re right. Do you think it can wait until we’ve showered? I came from the game, and you’re covered in blood. I would like to be clean for this talk.”
“Lead the way,” Fisher said, stepping back.
He whistled approval at the bathroom with its gleaming marble floor and huge glassed-in shower as Felix pulled towels from the cupboard and set them on the counter. He looked up to see Fisher looking at him in the mirror, and turned.
“You first,” he said.
“Not together?”
Felix almost laughed. “I think if we both get in there, we won’t talk. And as much as I want to—you know—”
Fisher’s eyes crinkled with his smile.
“I think you’re right, we do need to talk first.”
“Being all responsible and mature,” Fisher grumbled, but his eyes were soft, and he kissed him, quick and gentle. Then he pulled his shirt off over his head and Felix’s mouth went dry. It had been too long since he’d seen Fisher naked, and judging from the smile playing on Fisher’s face as he stepped out of his pants, muscles bunching and sliding under smooth skin, he knew exactly the effect he was having.