Page 4 of Boyfriend on Parole: The Care of Broken Things Extended Epilogue (Breaking Free #2)

Racer’s Surgery

Things got busy after that. There was Hailey’s birthday present to finish, and though he’d certainly started with plenty of time, he found that the closer he got to the finish line the more and more perfectionistic and neurotic he became until three days before the day when he decided it was all terrible, he was a talentless hack, and promptly burst into tears.

Rat was the one who found him, with all the artwork spread out over the floor of the library, and him in the center ready to throw his life away.

“For fuck's sake,” was the man’s assessment. “A prima donna like you should have his own reality show.”

But Rat did help him clean it all up and even helped him to stitch the binding, even if it did come out wonkier than he was hoping.

The later signatures were better than the first ones, and the end papers were a little tight, which would have sent him into another meltdown if Rat hadn’t been threatening to knock him unconscious the whole time.

“You know this bullshit has nothing to do with the party, right?” the man said that night after lights out.

“You see this kind of thing in the lifers set to be released. It’s panic about the adjustment.

You’re worried you no longer fit into the world and that this place is the only one that can handle you.

Basically, you’re scared shitless, and you don’t know what to do about it. ”

He hated it when Rat got psychological on him, mostly because the man made an annoying amount of sense whenever he did. “I’m not set to be released soon.”

“It’s been nine months, hasn’t it? Cruces promised you a year.”

“Only because Eli threatened her.”

“Yes, well, she’s never broken a promise to you, has she? Her beloved son. And anyway, you must believe it subconsciously otherwise you wouldn’t be freaking out.”

“Because I’m so stable the rest of the time, right?”

Rat laughed and nudged up at his mattress. “A day at a time. You’ve done six years. You’ve got this. Besides, you’re cute. That means you can screw up more and have it matter less.”

“Is that how it works?”

“It’s kept you in their good graces so far, hasn’t it?”

“That’s because they’re nice.”

Rat snorted. “Nice. Right. That’s why the doc took care of your little friend.”

“What friend?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot already. Wasn’t Racer the one who came closest to popping your cherry?”

As if he could forget, and Rat was right too about Racer getting the closest. It was Carnivore who’d found him, and he still remembered the way she had jumped in, even though she was alone, whacking that bastard straight over the head with her truncheon.

Always, always he’d been grateful to her for it, thinking of her as ‘one of the good ones’ even though he’d tasted the business end of her truncheon himself more than once.

“But what does Eli have to do with that?”

“You’re joking, right?”

He was growing annoyed, still sensitive after his meltdown. “Do I look like I’m in a joking mood?”

Rat couldn’t believe it. “You don’t know? You really don’t know?”

He smacked at the bedrail. The thing sure did get a lot of abuse. “Just tell me.”

But Rat was already backing off. “Maybe I shouldn’t if he really didn’t tell you. I can’t believe he didn’t. Or that you don’t know. How the fuck is it that you don’t know? It’s all the prison talked about for a month. Hell, they still talk about it. Why do you think Doc’s such a legend?”

“What do you mean, why? Because he’s a doctor. Because he’s helped all of you with your weird rashes and gross bodily functions.”

“I mean, before that. Why do you think people started going to him at all? As if we’d trust some criminal doctor just because he had a degree.”

The insults weren’t helping his mood. “First of all, fuck you. It was obvious from day one that he was innocent. Anyone with half an eyeball should have seen it, and second, fuck you again, he graduated at the top of his class. If there’s a better doctor in existence, I guaren-fucking-tee none of the degenerates in this place are ever going to—”

“God, you are such a princess. Obviously, we all know that now . But we couldn’t very well just put our lives into his hands right off the bat. He had to prove himself first.”

His eyes had gone so narrow he could barely see out of them. “Prove himself how ? And just try to hold out on me. See if you like how you walk tomorrow.”

Rat snorted again. “You could try asking nicely for once. If you can’t even treat your best friend with an ounce of courtesy, I’m really going to start questioning why I do so much for you.”

As if he was going to fall for that one. “ Tell me .”

“He castrated him, didn’t he? Went in there with a scalpel and just—”

“WHAT!”

“He really didn’t tell you this?”

“He chopped Racer’s balls off?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I said a scalpel, not an axe. He went in there with a little incision and slipped the boys out of there. What do you call them. The testes. Bee said they looked like cooked kidney beans.”

“Bee? Bee was there?”

“Of course. He was the one who held Racer down.”

“When the fuck was this?”

“Shit, when was it? That night you were in solitary, I think. After you flipped out over the underwear, remember?”

“And Racer tried to start something?”

“I don’t know what he was trying to do. Bitter maybe because you were off the market.

You know, I don’t think he ever got over you.

His white whale. Anyway, he started telling the Doc about it.

The time he almost fucked you, and everything he planned to do.

Nasty shit. Bee says one moment the Doc was just standing there and the next he’d clocked Racer in the gut so hard the man projectile vomited his lunch.

Disgusting. And Doc said, “Hold him down.” And he had the scalpel already, though I’m not sure how he got it.

Bee wasn’t sure either. And calm as anything your Eli went in there and got them suckers out, snipping the little cord or whatever they’re attached to.

I don’t know the anatomy. I hear Racer screamed like a pig, but no one gave a shit. ”

He couldn’t believe it. Or rather, he couldn’t believe Eli hadn’t told him.

Except maybe he could. If it had been that night—the night in solitary with The Android.

He’d come up so frightened. So desperate for protection.

Of course Eli wouldn’t have told him. He ought to have told him later, maybe, but he could see also why the man might not have.

It had been a critical period for them, high stress and so full of changes.

Maybe Eli had worried about overwhelming him, or maybe he hadn’t seen it as a big deal.

He’d told Eli to stand up for himself, after all, and the man had—and in the biggest way possible, no less.

Surgical castration. Well, he’d seen his partner in that mode before.

When Bee had been choking out The Android, Eli had acted as if it weren’t happening, so focused on the shoulder wound and stemming the flow of blood.

He had thought about that moment a lot, and how it matched up with everything else he knew about the man.

It was true that Eli was hyper-empathetic in pretty much every way, always offering his help, and he never seemed to ask himself whether that help was deserved.

On the surface it seemed impossible that such a man could perform a dangerous surgical procedure under duress and without anesthesia no matter who the victim was.

First do no harm. That was the Hippocratic oath, wasn’t it?

The one every doctor took upon graduation.

Well, maybe Eli had seen a castrated Racer as the version of less harm.

Samuel couldn’t be sure, and maybe one day he’d ask, but even if he never received an answer, he couldn’t help but feel an inappropriate sense of excitement. “God, that’s sexy.”

Rat laughed. “Romantic too. Getting revenge for his beloved Ice Queen. You’d better show him a lot of loving the next time you see him.”

“With Jameson on visitation? I doubt it.”

“And that’s the only thing stopping you, is it?”

He didn’t think Rat meant anything by that, but with his recent worries he couldn’t help taking it the wrong way. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Rat nudged the mattress. “Go to sleep, princess. It’ll all be better in the morning.”

He didn’t think it would be a prophecy. Or even an omen.

The day certainly didn’t start out that way, beginning with a phone call from a very regretful Nathaniel saying he wouldn’t be able to make that day’s visitation after all.

He’d be staying back with Hailey who had woken up with a fever and a sore throat.

It was frightening news. “Is she okay? What did Eli say? Is it something serious?”

“Viral, he says. Nothing much to do except fluids and rest. She’s sorry, Sam. She wanted to see you so much.”

He’d been dying to see her too. It was usually too difficult to work out visits on schooldays, and Marie having her half the time meant he only got to see her about two Saturdays out of the month.

Missing the visit also meant missing out on her birthday entirely—something he couldn’t help but take as a punishment for his stupid meltdown over the book.

Well, he had a lot of time for revisions now.

He clicked his tongue. “Thinking about others when she should be resting. What kind of irresponsible things are you teaching her?”

“Don’t blame me. She’s the spitting image of Eli.”

“Is she really alright?”

“She bounces back quickly, though she’s still upset I won’t drive her over. I only managed to convince her by saying we couldn’t afford to get you sick as well. It’s the only argument that had any impact, so make sure to look particularly feeble the next time we visit.”