Coming Home by J P Oliver & Peter Styles

Author:J P Oliver & Peter Styles [Oliver, J P & Styles, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Equal Love Publishing
Published: 2017-12-01T23:00:00+00:00

10

Wes

Wesley stepped into the hospital room, holding his breath.

The man lying in the bed—there was no way that was Sam. His Sam.

Wes stuttered to a stop with his fist still curled around the edge of the door frame.

The bed was in the middle of the room, thin blankets covering a thin man.

The thin man’s hair was pressed matte against his forehead, a sheen layer of sweat sticking it in place. His face was sharp, angular bones stuck beneath thin and pale skin. The only parts that weren’t thin and pale were swollen and bruised, a multicolor rainbow of browns and purples and yellows decorating his face.

His too skinny arms were folded on his lap. Wes could see the jagged lines that would turn into scars; some were small slices, others thick and rough.

Acid crawled up his throat. Wes nearly collapsed.

“Sam.”

The name burned. Wes could feel each letter on his tongue and his lips, scorched into the fragile flesh there. He never—he couldn’t have—

Tommy hadn’t said anything. Tom had just let him walk into the room without saying a goddamn thing and that had to mean that Sam was looking better.

What the fuck did he look like when he was first flown in?

Wes thought he might be sick.

The man in the bed was asleep. He was laid back straight, head lolled just a little to the side. Wes thought he could hear the breathing coming from his chest, ragged and unsure.

Sam had been the strongest person he’d ever met.

Wes couldn’t uncurl his fist from the hospital door. His fingers were stuck and his mind was stuck and he couldn’t even fucking imagine what Sam must’ve looked like before and—

Sam made an awful sound.

Wes dropped the door behind him and strode to the bed instantly, hands hesitating above Sam’s broken body to see if there was any place that looked worse than the other. He didn’t know what was wrong but no one just made that sound without being injured. He looked around but Sam settled down and his face relaxed in his sleep.

Unsure, Wes fell into the chair next to the bed. It moved from his weight, scraping loudly against the floor. Wes winced and froze, looking to see if he woke Sam up.

Sam continued to sleep.

Letting out a breath of relief, Wes settled into the chair and just— watched.

Tom would be coming with Dr. Plymouth soon and he would make sure that Sam wasn’t in any unnecessary pain or something. Until then, Wes would just— keep an eye on him.

That was the only thing he knew how to do anyway.

Jesus Christ.

Wes hadn’t really thought about what it meant to have been flown in by the military; what it meant that Sam had gone through, being held in captivity or whatever had happened. He had known that Sam was asleep from the pain and trauma on his body and that he had to have extensive surgery, but—

Well, Wes just hadn’t really thought about what it meant. He just hadn’t really thought.

Not that he could have guessed this in a thousand guesses.

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