Torn by Sean Michael

Author:Sean Michael [Michael, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Torquere Press, Inc.
Published: 2013-06-04T04:00:00+00:00

***

"I'm sorry, Pistol." The doctor's words followed him out of the office and into his truck. I'm sorry. The doctor was sorry? Pistol was sorry.

His phone beeped with a text from Bender. 'What did doc say?'

He shook his head, sighed, just sitting in the parking lot. He didn't want to get into it. He knew he had a while before Bender texted again, or called. His man would assume he was still in the doc's office. He sat there, hands on the steering wheel, and just stared.

I'm sorry, Pistol.

I'm sorry, Pistol.

I'm sorry.

He couldn't fucking believe it. One wrong twist, a bad fall, and that was it. The shoulder was wrecked. They'd done a lot, but the nerve damage was bad, and he still couldn't lift it high enough to make a difference.

Fuck.

His phone buzzed again, started ringing, and he grabbed it. "Yeah?"

"Babe." Bender, voice tight. "I was getting worried."

"I know. You need me to pick up anything in town?"

"No, I need you to tell me what the doctor said about your arm."

Pistol shook his head. "I don't want to get into it."

"Then come on home and tell me to my face."

"Okay." He hung up, started the truck and drove to Dairy Queen. He couldn't tell Bender. If he did it would be real.

He got him an ice cream and a Coke, then took the long way home. When he pulled into the drive, he headed out to the workshop to clean. He should have known Bender wouldn't let him hide in there, though he had hoped he could.

The door opened, Bender coming right in. "What the hell? You knew I was waiting on you."

He nodded, still picking up trash.

"Stop that." Bender came over and took the trash out of his hand, threw it on the ground. "What did the doctor say?"

"I was picking that up!"

Bender grabbed his arm. "What did the doctor say?"

"I'm sorry, Pistol."

Bender frowned, his mouth opening, then closing as understanding dawned in his eyes. "That bad?"

"Yeah." He didn't know what he was going to do. Maybe start doing tile work or something. He sure as shit wasn't going to be a roughstock rider anymore.

"At least there's a silver lining. You aren't gonna be leaving me for months at a time." Bender mustered up a half-smile for him.

"Nope. I won't be going nowhere."

"I'm sorry, babe." Bender leaned their foreheads together. "I am."

Pistol didn't know what to say, even what to think.

Bender just breathed with him, the air in the workshop otherwise still. "I love you, Pistol. I'm right here with you. This is home and it will never go away."

"I'm broke." Not money-wise, but in the worse ways.

"Bullshit. If it wasn't the arm this year, it would be just plain being old in another year or two."

"Asshole." He laughed, though, his wallow backing off some.

"Yeah, I've got one of those." Bender kept looking into his eyes, breathing with him.

"I guess I'll have to call my sponsors and stuff, tell them I retired, huh?"

Bender took a deep breath. "I'll help, babe.

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