Love Comes Silently(Senses 1) (11 page)

They sat quietly for a long time, listening to Hanna breathe. Every now and then, Patrick gazed into her confused and terrified eyes. Patrick knew she’d been through this before, and he saw the fear in her eyes as she wondered if she was going to have to go through everything all over again. He had no practical idea of what Hanna had been through, but from the look in her eyes, as well as the helplessness in Ken’s, Patrick knew it was some form of hell.

Dr. Pierson came back into the room. “We’re going to move her to a room,” Dr. Pierson said quietly from the foot of Hanna’s bed, and Patrick stood up to give the people who’d followed her access to the bed. Ken stepped away as well, only letting go of Hanna’s hand when they began to move her. The orderlies talked softly as they worked, and then they slowly rolled Hanna out of the little room and along the hallways. Ken walked behind her, and Patrick fell in next to him. Ken looked lost and scared. Without thinking, Patrick reached for Ken’s hand and held it in his. The orderlies glanced at them, but Patrick met their gaze with a hard stare and they looked away and continued their work. When they reached the room, the orderlies set the bed in place and a nurse took over, making sure Hanna was settled.

“This is going to make her comfortable, but she’ll sleep for hours,” the nurse explained as she injected some medication into the IV line they’d put in earlier. Hanna’s eyes drifted closed, and Ken held her hand once again.

“Ken,” the doctor said as she walked into the room. She checked over everything before turning to him. “Hanna is going to sleep through the night. I want you to go home and get some rest. You know how the next few days are going to be, and you need to be strong for her. I know you want to stay, but there’s nothing you can do except let her sleep. We’ll call you if there’s any change at all, I promise.” She took Ken’s hand in hers. “You need to rest.”

“I need to be here with Hanna,” Ken protested, and the doctor sighed, looking at Patrick for help, but all he could do was shrug. He wasn’t in any position to convince Ken to do anything.

“Ken. Let this nice man take you home. Come back first thing in the morning, but you need to rest.” This time there was an edge to her voice. “This can be a long process, you know that. Don’t knock yourself out at the start of the race, because Hanna is going to need you for the long haul.” Ken’s expression softened, and he leaned over the bed, kissing Hanna on the forehead before stepping away from the bed. Patrick followed him, then turned back to wish Hanna a silent goodbye. Patrick followed a silent Ken through the hallways, Ken’s body rigid with tension.

Night had fallen, and they stepped into the glow of large overhead lights as they emerged from the building and walked through the parking lot. Patrick led them to his car, and when Ken looked like he was going to continue, Patrick took his arm and guided Ken into his car. He wasn’t going to let Ken drive home— he was too worried and distracted. To Patrick’s surprise, Ken didn’t put up a fight.

The drive home was made in complete silence, with only the sound of the road beneath the wheels. Ken stared blankly out the windowthe entire time, and Patrick drove, glancing over at him often. He knew that Ken was being torn apart with anxiety, and Patrick wanted to help but didn’t know how. Finally, Patrick pulled up in front of Ken’s house and the car drifted to a stop. Patrick got out and waited for Ken to do the same, watching from over the roof as Ken schlumped up the walk to his front door. Patrick closed the car door and turned toward his own house. He’d move his car later.

“Patrick,” Ken said, and Patrick stopped walking. “I don’t want to be alone.” Patrick wasn’t completely sure what Ken meant, but he walked back toward Ken’s house and followed him inside.

The house seemed cold and quiet without Hanna to greet him with her squeals and hugs. Ken turned on a light and flopped down on the sofa with a soft sigh before leaning forward so he could bury his face in his hands. Patrick sat down next to him, the words to say that it would be okay forming on his lips, but all that came out was a series of soft grunts that sounded like nothing. He could make some sounds, but not enough to make himself understood. So he gave up, pulling Ken to him and saying what he needed to with his body and hands.

“Is that your way of reassuring me?” Ken asked, and Patrick nodded, hugging him a little tighter. “I shouldn’t have waited. I know what the doctor said, but I still should have taken her in right away.”

Patrick smoothed his hand over Ken’s hair, unable to reassure him any other way. There were times when he felt inadequate, but this wasn’t one of them. Anyone could say the words to try to comfort, but holding Ken in his arms, even if only to comfort him, felt wonderful, and he’d sit like this all night if Ken would let him. “Are you hungry?” Ken asked, and Patrick thought for a few minutes, trying to remember the last time he’d eaten. It had definitely been hours, so he let his arms slip away and stood up, then walked toward the kitchen to see what Ken had in the house.

He opened the refrigerator and then began looking in the cupboards. Patrick expected Ken to follow him, but he heard no footsteps. Figuring Ken needed to be alone for a while, Patrick found some bread and various lunch meats in one of the refrigerator drawers. He was also able to find a few other items, and began making sandwiches. Then he found the plates and glasses. After pouring some milk, Patrick carried a plate and glass into the living room and set it on the coffee table in front of Ken. After returning to the kitchen to get his own plate, Patrick joined Ken, sitting next to him and giving him a small nudge with his elbow to try to get him to eat.

Eventually Ken picked up the sandwich and took a bite before setting it down again. “When I first got Hanna a few years ago, I never imagined how a tiny life could mean so much to me.” Ken sat back, and Patrick ate as he watched Ken stare at the walls. “She was a little slip of a thing, but she had so much energy. I knew as soon as I met her that she was meant for me to love.”

Patrick wanted to ask all kinds of questions, but he lac ked the ability, and he didn’t want to interrupt Ken by writing things down, so he simply listened.

“Would you like to see a picture?” Ken stood up without waiting for an answer. Patrick took another bite of his sandwich as Ken pulled open a cabinet drawer and pulled out a photo album. When Ken returned to the couch, he opened it and showed Patrick the first pages. “She wasn’t quite three when I first got her. I had to foster her at first, but then a year later I adopted her.” Ken smiled, his fingers brushing over the photographs of the little girl in her pink shirt smiling for the camera. She was adorable, with big eyes and wild hair. “I met Mark a little while later, and we were going to raise her together, but you know how that turned out.”

Patrick nodded . He wished he could say that Ken was better off without his self-centered boyfriend. Instead, he rolled his eyes to no one and took another bite of sandwich. Ken turned the page on the photo album, and Patrick picked up Ken’s plate, handing it to him insistently.

“You’d think you were my mother,” Ken teased before taking a small bite and then setting the plate back on the table. “Happy?” Patrick shook his head, and Ken huffed but began to eat while Patrick looked at the pictures of Hanna. There was one of her holding a fishing pole with a tiny fish on the end of the line. Patrick saw the delighted look on her face and he could almost hear her squeal of delight as she’d reeled the fish out of the water. There were also pictures of her riding a pony and on a carousel. Patrick turned the page and saw that Hanna had gotten a little older, with pictures of her swimming in what looked like a pool. There were also pictures of her on Christmas morning opening presents and holding them up so Ken could see them.

Patri ck turned the page again, and there were pictures of her outside playing. Then the pictures shifted, some of them showing her in hospital beds with a hat on her head. Patrick needed no explanation as to when they were taken. Ken carefully closed the album and set it aside. “Someday I know I’ll be able to look at those, but I can’t right now.” Patrick nodded again and finished off his sandwich before prodding Ken one more time to eat. “Will you stay with me?” Ken asked, and Patrick widened his eyes in surprise. He wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but he nodded anyway. Ken finally finished his sandwich, and Patrick took the plates and glasses to the kitchen, setting them in the sink before cleaning everything else up. When he returned to Ken’s living room, he saw him still sitting on the sofa. It looked as though he hadn’t moved the entire time Patrick had been gone.

Patrick knew he needed to get Ken to bed and to sleep. If Ken stayed up worrying, he wouldn’t be any help to Hanna or anyone else. Without knowing what else to do, Patrick extended his hand, and when Ken accepted it, Patrick led him upstairs.

Patrick knew he probably should not be doing this. He’d watched and dreamed of being with Ken, but this was not how he’d ever imagined it. In his imagination, he’d always pictured them happy. The first time he was with Ken like this was supposed to be magical. He reminded himself that nothing intimate was going to happen—it couldn’t. This was about as unsexy a situation as he could think of. Hanna was in the hospital, and Ken was almost totally distraught.

When Patrick reached the top of the stairs, he looked through each open door until he found Ken’s room and then led him inside. The unmade bed and clothes lying on the floor spoke of the distraction and rushednature of Ken’s recent life. Patrick kept himself busy picking up the clothes and dropping them into a basket in the corner while Ken undressed and climbed into bed. Patrick saw Ken’s eyes close, and he turned out the light. Figuring he would sleep on thesofa downstairs, Patrick turned to leave, but Ken touched his arm. “Don’t go,” he whispered, and Patrick took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it and walking around to the other side of the bed.

Patrick toed off his shoes and s tripped to his underwear in the dark room. Then he lifted the covers, climbed between the cool sheets, and settled on the mattress. He stared up at the ceiling, a little afraid to move. Ken’s breathing was nearly deafening in the otherwise silent room, and Ken’s heat traveled along the bedding to warm Patrick. Turning to look at his bedmate, Patrick got a whiff of his deep, rich scent, and he had to stifle the groan that threatened. There was no doubt about it: Patrick was in hell, especially when his body reacted to Ken’s proximity with gusto. He began thinking unsexy thoughts and reminded himself that the only reason he was here was because Hanna was in the hospital and Ken was worried out of his mind. That chilled things quickly, but they only heated up when Ken shifted on the bed next to him. In the darkness, an arm settled over his chest, and then Ken was pressing close to his side.

“Just hold me, Patrick,” Ken whispered. Patrick rolled onto his side, and Ken settled right against him, their bodies fitting like two perfect pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “It’s been a while and….”

“I know,” Patrick mouthed silently, not caring if he could say the words out loud or not. Wrapping Ken in his arms, Patrick hugged him tightly. If he only got this one chance to hold Ken in his arms, he’d take it and remember it for the rest of his life. Patrick had no illusions that this was more than just Ken needing comfort after a traumatic day, and when they got up in the morning, everything would change in the light of day.

“You’ re a good friend,” Ken murmured, and Patrick held his breath at the unexpected pain those simple words caused. He didn’t want to be Ken’s friend. He wanted so very much more, but he couldn’t tell him that, not now and not in the dark, so Patrick had to be content with holding Ken as he felt and heard him drift off to sleep. Patrick spent quite a long time listening to Ken breathe as he lay wide awake long after Ken rolled over and Ken’s warm back pressed to his chest. Eventually Patrick’s eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep, but not for very long.

When Patrick woke in the middle of the night, the clock on Ken’s side of the bed read 4:32, and he was alone in the bed. Wondering where Ken was, Patrick got up and slipped into his pants before wandering through the house. He saw light glowing from downstairs and followed it to the back of the house into what had to be Ken’s studio. Patrick found Ken standing in front of an easel in his underwear working diligently on a canvas. He could see Ken shivering as he continued to work feverishly, as though the world didn’t exist.

Patrick moved around behind him to where he could see what Ken was painting. Hanna stared out from the canvas, her eyes twinkling, the puffy pink hat that Patrick had given her on her head. Her arm was near the edge of the canvas, a snowball in her mittened hand, ready to be thrown. Patrick smiled, because even though the objective of the snowball wasn’t in the painting, Patrick knew it was most likely him or Ken. Patrick began to shiver, and he lightly touched Ken’s bare shoulder. His skin was cold, and Patrick wondered how long Ken had been down here working like this.

“I remembered our snowball fight a few months ago, and I needed to get Hanna’s expression captured before I forgot it,” Ken said as he continued applying paint to Hanna’s rosy cheeks. “I get images, but sometimes they don’t last long,” Ken said as he dabbed his brush in more paint. “I dreamed about this day, and I couldn’t let it go,” Ken said as he continued working. Patrick figured he could leave and Ken would hardly know he’d left. Moving away, Patrick turned to leave the studio. The soft sounds of Ken’s work ceased, and Patrick looked over his shoulder. Ken stood poised with his brush near the canvas, not moving, staring back at him. He didn’t move for a while, and then slowly he lowered his brush, setting it on the paint-spattered table behind him. The palette followed, and Ken still stared as though he were trying to impress something onto his brain.

Patrick began feeling a li ttle uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Ken’s gaze was so intense, Patrick had to look away. Taking a quick glance around the studio, he saw canvases leaning against walls. In some places, multiple canvases leaned one on top of each other. Some had been painted, but the ones he could see were blank. Patrick walked back to where Ken continued staring. He touched Ken’s arm and then took his hand, lightly guiding him out of the room. Ken pulled away and hurriedly rushed around, putting lids on paint and dropping brushes into cups. Patrick was shivering again by the time he’d had enough and took Ken by the hand again, leading him out of the studio and up the stairs. Ken flipped the lights off, and they made much of the trip in near darkness.