Page 19 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Nat didn’t remember much about the ambulance ride, or his initial exam in the ER. The haze of physical agony eventually became a haze of moderate numbness, and he stared vacantly while doctors ordered tests, his gurney was taken from place to place for x-rays or whatever, and he eventually landed back in a curtained area that offered no comfort. Only coldness, sterility, and fear.

Fear of dying; fear of being charged with murder; fear of never seeing Zack again, except from behind bars. But deep down below the fear, Nat also reveled in the knowledge that his bogeyman was finally dead. No resurrection like in scary movies. Austin Daniels would never touch him, or anyone else, ever again.

If Nat went to prison for that service, it was a small price to pay.

Voices rose briefly beyond the curtain, and then the face he wanted to see second-most in the world stepped inside. Chase’s expression whiplashed between joy and horror as he walked to the bed, so fast he barely used his cane—which Nat knew from experience, Chase would regret later.

“Jesus Christ, Nathaniel.” Chase sat on the side of the bed and squeezed his forearm. “You look like you got into a fight with a grizzly bear.”

“Near enough. Where’s Zack?”

“He was held back at the scene to answer questions, but he assured me he’ll be on his way soon. He asked me to sit with you until then, but they wouldn’t let me back until you were done with testing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, but fuck me, I am so sorry this happened. He wouldn’t have gotten you if my goddamn body was functioning properly.”

Nat’s heart ached for the misery in Chase’s voice. He reached out with his right hand, careful of the IV wires, and covered Chase’s with his. “Not your fault. Not your body’s fault. Austin found out where I lived. He’d have done something sooner or later.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely. Austin wanted to end things on his terms.”

“Oh, honey. What did he do?”

“Enough.” Nat didn’t want to talk about it. He still had the police to deal with, and he wasn’t looking forward to giving that statement. He’d barely been able to answer questions when the nurses and doctor had asked. “But Austin really didn’t hurt you?”

“I never saw him. As soon as I realized you’d been gone too long, I called Zack. He remembered you telling him about a spot in the mountains, and that he had a GPS tag on the car. It gave him a direction to follow.”

“Smart.” Nat hadn’t known about the tag. Zack’s forethought and good memory had saved his life. “I wanna go home.”

“I know, but you’ve got some time left to spend here. ERs move notoriously slow, and I imagine they’re worried about possible infections in your wounds. You look like you rolled around in the mud.”

Nat snorted. While he’d been cleaned up in some areas, he desperately needed a real shower to get the smell of dirt off his skin. “I did, kind of. It’s a long story. Can we just sit until Zack gets here?”

“Of course, we can.” Chase managed to pull a chair closer to the bed and sat near him, angled so he was facing Nat directly. When Chase started humming, Nat closed his eyes and enjoyed the familiar sound. Chase loved singing along to the car radio, and he knew a lot of music. Nat loved music, too. It was kind and comforting and familiar, in this very cold, foreign space.

A doctor disturbed their peace, and Nat tried to pay attention to everything. Chest wound showed no internal bleeding, no surgery, just stitches and rest. Shoulder wound would heal without stitches, but consult a plastic surgeon if worried about the scar. Same with gouges in lower back and on left palm. Lots of rest. Stiffness for a while. Antibiotics for infections, drugs for the pain. Blah, blah, blah.

No surgery was a plus, and it meant getting released sooner.

Until the doc dropped the bomb: “The state police are here. Do you consent to a rape kit exam?”

Chase made a distressed noise. Nat wanted to say no, he hadn’t been raped. But even though Austin hadn’t penetrated him anally this time, what he’d done on that blanket had still been rape. He consented to the test; Chase left the cubicle. The entire procedure was awkward and humiliating, as he exposed himself so they could document his injuries and take clippings and swabs. If he was charged with murder, this could only help his case.

Killing Austin had been self-defense, period, and the recording would help prove it. It would show the world how violent and evil Austin had been. That the entire setup was premeditated murder.

Recounting his story for the detective, from the car alarm to the ambulance, left Nat a shivering, nauseated mess, but he got through it. “Where’s Zack?”

“Mr. Matteson was questioned at the scene and then released,” the detective replied. “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly, if he isn’t already in the waiting room. He’ll be allowed in once we’re finished.”

“Are we finished?”

“For now. The district attorney’s office may or may not need more in-depth information from you about your relationship with Mr. Daniels, before they decide if charges will be filed.” Nat’s gut flooded with acid. “However, Mr. Hawking, this appears to be a pretty clear-cut case of self-defense. It’s highly unlikely they’ll pursue charges.”

“Thank fuck. I want this part of my life over.”

“I understand. We’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Nat never wanted to see the man again, but he was grateful for the reassurance that he was unlikely to be charged. Austin had no family that he’d ever told Nat about, no one to advocate for a deeper investigation. And even if they did, they’d find a sordid web of sex, abuse, lies, and an irredeemably cruel man who’d stalked, tortured, and raped his ex.

If push came to shove, Nat wouldn’t back down.

He’d just rather not have to fight anymore.

The cubicle emptied for a few minutes, Nat’s only companions the squeaking of passing shoes, the constant cacophony of voices that the curtain couldn’t block, and dozens of beeps and blurps from machines in his room and others. The wires from the IV, pulse ox, and heart monitor were driving him crazy, as was the growling of the blood pressure cuff every fifteen minutes. It was too much, now that he was fully aware and with nothing to distract him from the endless noise.

Then the curtain parted, and Zack stepped inside. He wore a blue scrub top over his black work pants, and he had a few scrapes and bruises on his face, but he was there. Smiling and well, and he approached the bed so slowly, so timidly, that Nat wanted to cry again. His Zack was confident and proud and unafraid to speak his mind.

Nat raised his left arm. “Get over here.”

Zack sighed and did as told, gently wrapping Nat up into the softest, warmest, most reassuring hug of his entire life. A hug that promised safety and love, and that Zack wasn’t going anywhere. They were in this together, no matter what happened next. Nat’s eyes burned, but he wasn’t crying, so why was his neck wet?

Zack was crying, his entire body trembling as he released his own emotions over their shared terror and near-death experiences. Breaking down in the safety of Nat’s embrace, and Nat held him. Held him tight and said over and over, “I’m okay, we’re okay. Thank you. We’re okay. Thank you.”

In that moment, they were okay, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

Nat expected to be sore for a while, based on having been beaten before, but nothing prepared him for how sore he was over the next few weeks. Everything hurt, from his toes to his hair, and the worst of the aches weren’t even in his various stab wounds, but in his heart. Austin had cut him deeply there without ever touching him with a blade.

Austin’s death was ruled self-defense and the case closed. The recording of the assault was filed away with the other evidence, never to see the light of day again.

That didn’t remove the millstone of guilt from around Nat’s neck. He’d saved Zack’s life, and his own, but he’d also shot a man twice and killed him. He didn’t know how to live with that. He’d barely managed to have the much-needed conversation with Zack about the details of those few hours in the woods, but he’d gotten through it with endless love and support from Zack. The sheer terror of being killed, the agony of the flogger beating, the self-loathing over willingly sucking on Austin’s nuts to create a distraction.

No real sense of pride over his escape, not even when Zack hugged him and said, “I’m so goddamn proud of you,” over and over.

Nat had survived, but at what cost? How was he supposed to live with himself after taking a life?

A few local and state news outlets—and a handful of social media commentary channels that knew about Austin and his online exploits—reached out for comment, but Nat refused. There was no point in further exposing Austin. All kinds of things were already in newspaper articles, blog posts, and video clips. Let social media speculate on all the ways Austin had been a monster. Their imagination couldn’t be any worse than the truth. Nat wanted to put it behind him, not gain online infamy.

River Bistro was seeing brisk business, their reservation books full through September, thanks to Zack’s heroics in the woods. Zack, meanwhile, had hired new temporary front-of-house staff, so he could focus on the business end and remain out of the public spotlight. He hadn’t done anything for accolades or clout, and he showed no interest in personal gain over his actions. Nat loved him even more for taking that stance, when the extra publicity meant a financial boon for the restaurants.

Chase agreed with Zack, too, so they were both keeping low profiles. They’d gotten a few nasty online reviews, mostly homophobic, but Zack didn’t fuss over them. He fussed over Nat, as often as possible. And when he couldn’t be home to fuss, he’d hired a daytime aide to help both Nat and Chase, while Nat was out of commission as Chase’s helper.

Sasha came to visit him a few times, always bringing a sweet treat or a bag of his favorite salty snacks. Angelo stopped by once, as did Shelton, and Nat appreciated the support. He didn’t have a lot of friends, so each smiling face gave him hope of a larger support circle going forward.

But Nat couldn’t hear a car alarm without dissolving into a full-blown panic attack, and around mid-August—and at Chase’s urging—Nat made an appointment with a trauma therapist. It was expensive without insurance, but Chase and Zack both contributed for the sake of Nat’s healing and mental health. Not only from Austin’s abuse, but also the things from his childhood he’d never addressed, examined, or tried to process.

His body healed faster than his mind, and by the end of August, Nat was back working for Chase on a daily basis. They’d installed the metal gate across the side porch, which helped Nat move between the two residences with ease. But he’d yet to go anywhere by himself since the kidnapping. Even for his own therapy appointments, Chase or Zack went with him and sat in the waiting room.

As expected, Neighborhood Shindig announced live music and featured specials on Labor Day Monday. Nat hadn’t returned since the Fourth, and even without the threat of running into Austin ever again, Nat wasn’t sure he could face the crowds. The possible gawkers, the questions, the curious stares everywhere he went. Sure, he’d let his hair get shaggier, and he had a short beard now, so the slight disguise could help.

But the people . The potential threats .

The Thursday before Labor Day, while helping Chase with their usual housecleaning routine, Chase made an offhand comment about Shindig. Nat nearly knocked over a porcelain vase he was trying to dust. He’d only been half paying attention to Chase’s ramblings about the increase in the cost of fresh beef this month.

“What?” Nat asked. “What about Shindig?”

Chase was using an extendable duster to reach a corner of the ceiling. “Just musing on what specials they’ll have at Shindig on Monday, what with the prices of meat going up. Maybe they’ll do vegetarian options like that one event they threw last year.”

“Maybe.”

“Not curious?”

“I don’t know if I want to do go.”

“That’s understandable.” Chase retracted the duster then sat on the arm of the sofa. “Zack mentioned your plans were uncertain.”

“He’s dropped hints but hasn’t asked me outright. I think he’s trying not to push me, you know?”

“Asking a question is hardly pushing. You’re nervous about the crowd?”

“Yes.”

“Have you discussed this with your therapist?”

“Yes and no. And it’s not just about the crowd size. That kind of thing doesn’t bother me on its own. It’s the idea of people gawking at me, seeing me as some sort of sideshow exhibit that they feel sorry for, because something bad happened to me. I already went through that after Tim’s exploded, and now this?”

Chase nodded. “I can sympathize with that feeling to a degree. Men my age leaning on a cane often brings staring eyeballs and silent scrutiny.”

“It’s bigger than Austin, though. Bigger than all the scars he left on my body.”

“Something to do with your mother?”

Nat’s throat tightened. “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to Zack about that?”

“No, but…my shrink has suggested I should. That sharing it with someone I care about will take some weight off, allow them to help shoulder the load.”

“Your shrink isn’t wrong. And I’m not asking for any of those details. That is your private pain, and while I hope one day you feel comfortable sharing it with me, you need to talk to Zack first. He’s your partner. He loves you.”

“And I lo—” He wouldn’t say it out loud for the first time to someone else. “Care for him so much it hurts. I know he’ll listen. I know he won’t judge. I’m just scared of finding out I’m wrong.”

“About Zack?”

“About how lovable I really am.” Nat’s face flamed, and he turned away, ashamed of himself for so being weak in front of his boss. But Chase was also his friend, and he’d never felt judged by the older man.

The sofa creaked and then Chase’s hand was resting on his shoulder. “Talk to Zack when he gets home.”

Nat couldn’t dislodge the lump from his throat, so he nodded that he would. He’d put off this conversation for far too long. Zack had been incredibly patient these last few weeks, through Nat’s nightmares and panic attacks, and through his inability to say, “I love you” back each time Zack said those three perfect, precious words.

But that was Nat’s issue to face and overcome. Zack deserved to be loved by someone with their whole heart, and until Nat freed the last small, broken piece of his heart from his mother’s grasp…he’d never be the person Zack deserved.

* * *

Zack finished his paperwork at nine-thirty, and instead of hanging around until close, he checked in with his assistant manager, and then left River Bistro early. In his car, he texted Nat that he was on his way home. Before he was out of the parking lot, Nat replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

Coming home to Nat was his favorite thing in the world. Even if Nat wasn’t home when Zack returned, eventually, they would be reunited. Nearly losing Nat last month had put the important things in Zack’s life into stark perspective. This was the life he wanted: managing River Bistro; being Chase’s friend and neighbor; loving Nat for as long as Nat wanted to be in his life.

He loved Nathaniel Hawking with his whole heart and being, and while he understood Nat’s hesitancy to say the words…sometimes it stung. And it made him doubt.

He often wondered if it was because Nat doubted him. They’d talked about that awful afternoon in the mountains. The things Austin had done to Nat; the things Nat had done to survive. Zack didn’t blame Nat for any of it, especially not the sexual assault. It absolutely killed Zack inside that he hadn’t been able to save Nat from that violation, despite understanding, intellectually, that he couldn’t have stopped it. He tried to say it and show Nat that every single day, accepting Nat’s affection, and respecting his physical limits.

They’d made love three times since that day, always when Nat initiated it, and Zack welcomed the intimacy. Adored their kisses and touches and everything that made them both come. But it felt…distant. As if Nat wasn’t yet all-in with their relationship, and Zack needed to speak up.

He had to address it before the microscopic distance between them became an impassable chasm.

Chase’s windows were dark when Zack parked in his spot, but the porch light to his place shined bright behind the black iron gate. Zack didn’t mind all the extra steps in security, not if they kept his family safe. Once he’d set the alarm inside the apartment, he observed the empty kitchen and living room. Only the floor lamp in the corner was still on, giving the space an orange glow.

He didn’t hear the shower running, and the bedroom light was on, so after toeing off his shoes, Zack walked toward the only place his boyfriend could be. He naively hoped to find Nat in bed, maybe in a sexy pose, anticipating Zack’s return.

Instead, Nat stood in front of the dresser mirror in just his briefs, staring at his reflection as if he’d never seen it before. The position gave Zack his profile and hid the worst of the scars from his immediate view, but he knew where each one lay. Every pale line or fissure of unhealed skin. Nat had opted not to bother with the cost of a plastic surgeon. With no insurance, his medical bills had already been astronomical, but he and Zack had worked out a repayment plan. Zack had been willing to pay for plastic surgery, if Nat had wanted to reduce the size of his scars, especially the slice on his left shoulder.

Nat insisted on keeping them.

“Hey,” Zack said. “Checking your body for signs of early grays?”

Nat huffed out his familiar I’m humoring your silliness laugh. “Trying to see what you see when you look at me.”

“I see someone I love very much. I see a strong man who has overcome so much trauma and adversity, and he’s still standing. Fighting. Being an outstanding friend and lover.”

“I haven’t been much of a lover lately, though, have I?”

Zack took two long strides into the room. “I’ve never complained.”

“You never do complain. I could squat right here and take a shit on this carpet, and you’d be so kind about it. You’d want to know why I thought I had to do that, or if I needed to talk about it. You wouldn’t get mad, you’d want to figure it out.”

“Because, going with your example, I’d know you weren’t shitting on the carpet out of malice. That’s not you. I’d know something was wrong, and I’d want to understand it, because that’s what a loving partner does.”

“And that’s what I don’t understand, I guess.” Nat turned to face him, and Zack tried not to stare at the short, oblong scar on his chest that lived far too close to his heart. That blade could have easily killed Nat, but it had miraculously missed every major organ and artery. “I’m not used to people who love me trying to understand me. I’m used to being used or belittled or smacked around. And I’m trying, because I don’t want to fuck this up, Zack. This thing we have, but I don’t understand.”

“Okay.” Zack took Nat’s hand and drew him over to the bed so they could sit. “What can I explain? How can I help you understand what’s confusing you?”

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?”

“Why—what? Right now?”

“No, not right now, but ever since the mountain, you’ve held back. You don’t reach for me the way you used to, back when you’d initiate kissing and fucking and everything in between.”

Zack nodded his understanding of the complaint, and he sorted through his words carefully, so he didn’t stick his hand in the fryer. “Sweetheart, you’re the one who was assaulted. I wanted to give you space, let you reach for me when you were ready for intimacy.”

“But why? You have needs, too. You’ve got to be frustrated as hell with me by now, doling out sex like merit badges, one whenever I feel like you’ve earned it.”

“I do not feel that way. Not at all.”

“Then why? Do I disgust you? Because of what I did?”

“No.” Zack tucked Nat under his arm, but kept them far enough apart that he never broke eye contact. Nat’s eyes swam with fear and confusion, and Zack needed to erase those negative emotions. Replace them with positive ones. “If you’re talking about the blow job, I do not blame you for that. You were trying to survive a life-threatening situation. You chose a survival tactic that I imagine has worked on him in the past, yes?”

Nat nodded.

“You could never disgust me for surviving, Nat. Not ever. I don’t think you could ever truly disgust me. Disappoint me, sure, even break my heart if you ever cheated on me, but that’s not something I think about. I focus on the positive things we share and on the future I want us to have. I want a future with you. Do you believe me?”

“I’m trying.”

“I love you, and I respect you, and that’s why I’m giving you space with intimacy. It’s only been a month. Things will get better. I know you’re used to the good things in your life going to shit, but I need you to believe in our future, too. To trust that I’m not using you, that I’m not disgusted by you, and that I want you in my life as a partner.”

Nat held his gaze for a long, torturous beat before his head dropped. He twisted his hands together in his lap. “Do you know what Munchausen by proxy is?”

Zack blinked at the side of his head, thrown by the random question. “Sure. Typically, it’s when a custodial parent causes illness or injury to their child, in order to gain the attention and sympathy of others. Why?”

“Because my mother has it.” Nat looked up. This time his wet eyes were red-rimmed and angry. “I was the child she harmed for attention.”