Page 21 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Chapter Eighteen

The blue LED light emanating from his alarm clock cast a ghostly hue over his bedroom. Mark had given up checking the time. He’d come to bed sometime after ten, when he realized he’d been staring at the TV screen for a couple of hours and hadn’t registered a single thing that had been on it.

It was nearly midnight. Through his open window he could hear the raucous laughter of the nearby pub’s patrons who had spilled out onto the streets and were wending their way home, albeit in a noisy fashion.

Sleeping was out of the question, given the circumstances.

Sam hadn’t answered a single call.

Sam hadn’t returned one of his seven or eight texts.

Mark was screwed.

Why did I kiss him?

Stupid question.

Sam had stood there on the sand, so heartbreakingly beautiful, and Mark had been seized by the urge to hold him in his arms, to kiss those warm lips one more time. And once kissed, he’d wanted more…

It doesn’t matter now.

That look of sorrow on Sam’s face was forever burned into Mark’s memory.

The intercom buzzer shattered the silence. Again. And again.

It’s some drunk who’s got the wrong flat.

There was another possibility, however.

He hopped out of bed, naked, and ran to the door. He pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

“Mark, it’s Sam. Please, let me in.”

At least this time he sounded sober.

So I let him in. And then what? We go through another week of him avoiding me, so I get to screw this up again?

Mark couldn’t hold back his groan. “Please, Sam, go home.”

His heart almost stopped as he heard the distinctive sound of weeping.

“Please, Mark. I… I need you.”

There was no way Mark could ignore that entreaty.

He jammed his finger against the door release button and then yanked back the bolts. He turned the key and flung open the door.

As Sam rounded the corner of the staircase and came into view, Mark gasped.

He was bleeding profusely from a cut above his right eye. There were scratches across his cheeks and arms, and some of them were bleeding too.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Mark pulled him into the flat and closed the door. Sam sank to his knees on the hall carpet, as if his legs would no longer bear his weight. Mark dropped to the floor beside him and cradled him in his arms, ignoring the blood which smeared onto his bare skin.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Sam wailed as Mark held him, Sam’s arms held limply at his sides. “Please, let me stay.”

Mark took a closer look at the cut. It seemed deep.

“We need to get this seen to. It looks as if it might need stitches.” His mind reeled.

“Sam.” He held Sam’s face as carefully as he could, gazing at him anxiously.

Sam was still weeping. “Sam.” More urgently now.

At last Sam met his gaze, and Mark gently lifted his chin with two fingers. “Who did this to you?”

Sam shook his head vehemently, his lips pressed together into a fine line. “Can’t…can’t.”

“Please, babe.” The endearment slipped out. “You have to tell me.”

Sam stared at him blankly, seeming to almost crumple in front of him. Trembling, he opened his mouth to speak, and the one word that pierced the silence of the hallway shocked Mark into stillness.

“Rebecca.”

Oh my fucking God.

It was as if Mark’s heart had been plunged into ice.

“ She did this?” He stroked the hair away from Sam’s forehead, sticky with blood.

Sam was shaking, his eyes huge, and Mark’s mind slid from panic mode into practical.

“Look, we can talk about this later. Right now it’s more important to get your head looked at.

” He slipped his arms under Sam’s and helped him up onto his feet.

He guided Sam into his bedroom and sat him on the bed.

He looks so lost and confused.

Mark could understand that last emotion.

He dashed into the bathroom and pulled a small hand towel from the airing cupboard.

He held it under the tap and ran cold water over it until it was sodden, then he wrung it out.

When he got back to the bed, Sam hadn’t moved an inch.

He winced as Mark wiped carefully at the blood on his face, Mark patting his cheeks scored with long scratches to try and remove some of the dried blood from them.

One more trip to the bathroom to rinse out the towel, and then Mark folded it and pressed it against Sam’s forehead.

“Hold it there, please, and press as hard as you can” he instructed the subdued Sam, who automatically raised his hand and did as he was told, his eyes wide and staring. Mark glanced down at his own naked body.

“I’ll put on some clothes and then I’ll take you to St. Mary’s, okay?” The hospital was only about twenty minutes away.

Sam gave him a dazed look and then nodded.

This silence is starting to worry me.

He made sure Sam wasn’t about to fall off the bed and then grabbed his jeans and T-shirt.

As he squirmed hurriedly into the jeans, he continually glanced over at Sam.

He shoved his bare feet into his trainers and helped Sam to stand.

After grabbing his jacket and car keys, Mark led his stunned friend out of the flat and down to the street.

The Fiesta was in a parking area behind the flats, surrounded by trees.

As they approached the car, the floodlight was activated and the area was bathed in a bright white light.

He opened the passenger door and eased Sam into the seat, watching carefully to ensure he didn’t catch his head.

From the look of him, Sam was in shock. Mark secured his seatbelt and then got behind the wheel.

The car sped through the quiet streets toward the centre of the island to Newport.

There was little traffic around and Mark nudged the accelerator impatiently, slowing only when he neared the stretch of road which contained one of the island’s only three speed cameras.

Sam’s head lolled back against the headrest, his eyes closed, his hand still holding the damp towel in place.

When Mark saw him shiver, he put his foot down, and in no time, the hospital was in view.

Mark pulled into an empty parking space and reluctantly left Sam for a moment while he fumbled in his jeans pocket for change for the parking meter. Once the ticket had been placed on the dash, Mark held out a hand to Sam.

“Come on, babe. Nearly there.” Sam opened his eyes and stared at Mark, his eyes clouding.

Aw fuck.

Mark grabbed his hand and helped him to get out of the car.

After locking it, he put his arm around Sam’s shoulders and guided him to the main door of the hospital.

Just inside the main building on the right was the Beacon centre, the out-of-hours clinic.

It was still open. They entered through the automatic sliding doors and went to the reception desk.

Several people were sitting around, quiet pockets of chatter taking place.

Mark saw a couple of lads looking very much the worse for wear: they’d clearly been in a fight.

The nurse behind the desk looked up as Mark and Sam approached. Her gaze took in Sam’s head and the spots of blood spattered on his blue shirt. “What’s the name?”

“Sam Prince.” Mark spoke for his friend. He had to wonder how much information Sam was capable of giving in his present state. Sam leaned against the desk, his arm resting on the smooth countertop.

“Address?”

Sam frowned as he tried to focus, but he managed to stutter out an address in Sandown.

The nurse took down his details. “Okay, you need to take a seat. The doctor will call you.”

Mark helped Sam to a seat in a quiet corner, away from the clinic’s other occupants.

Sam leaned back against the wall, his eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling.

The hand containing the towel fell limply into his lap.

For several long minutes neither of them spoke.

Mark stared down at the floor. There were so many questions going around in his head.

“Do you think we’ll have to wait long?”

Mark could have wept with relief to hear Sam speak. “There aren’t that many in front of us.” He gazed anxiously at Sam. “How are you feeling?”

“Head hurts,” he whispered. Sam closed his eyes. Mark yearned to take hold of his hand, but he wasn’t sure how Sam would feel about that, given their location. He glanced at the cut: the bleeding seemed to have stopped at least.

“What happened, Sam?” Mark couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Sam winced. “Not now. Please.” He kept his voice low. He opened his eyes. Mark was jolted by the pain he saw reflected there.

That’s the second time today.

Except it wasn’t Saturday anymore, and that moment on Ryde beach seemed a lifetime ago.

“When I’m finished here, can we go back to your flat? I promise, I’ll tell you everything.” Sam swallowed.

“All right,” Mark acquiesced. The look of relief on Sam’s face was palpable.

“Just close your eyes and rest quietly. It won’t be long now.

” Sam gave him a careful nod and closed his eyes.

Mark sat back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the wall clock.

He tried to shut down his thoughts but it wasn’t happening.

All he wanted right then was answers.