Chess 03 - En Prise by Sean Michael

Author:Sean Michael [Michael, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-03-10T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Bishop waited patiently for the nurses to finish with Knight then slipped back into the room, taking up residence in the sleeping chair by Knight’s bed. He didn’t know why they called it a sleeping chair—he sure hadn’t done any sleeping in it. Not to speak of, anyway.

He looked over at Knight. “You need to wake up, baby. I mean it now—need to.”

One of the surgeries for relieving pressure had necessitated the doctors shaving a spot in his lovely dark hair. Knight was shrinking, dissolving before his eyes. It was killing him inside.

He grabbed one of the books about art that Jason had brought in and started reading it out loud. They’d told him hearing his voice would help. He was pretty sure he didn’t believe that anymore.

Maybe he should read horror, porn—something less boring. Porn just might do it. He gave a short bark of cheerless laughter. Maybe he ought to just climb into bed and order Knight to wake the fuck up and stop scaring them.

“We brought you pasta and salad, Bish.”

He jerked around, startled—he hadn’t heard them come in—and nodded at Jason and Rookie. “Thanks.” He didn’t feel like eating.

They had both been going home at night, and it was helping. Rook looked less panicked, more hopeful. More like himself. Bishop needed that. If Knight wasn’t going to wake up, he needed Rookie to be Rookie and not some pale imitation of the real thing.

Rook came and knelt in front of him, hands on his legs. “You look like shit.”

He didn’t even have it in him to protest or grouse at Rook over the insult. “I feel like shit, Rookie.”

Rook’s soft hand slid over his cheek. “So let Jason take you home and feed you. You can take a nap, breathe non-hospital air for a little bit.”

“No. I can’t. What if he wakes up and I’m not here?” He wasn’t leaving. He couldn’t. Period.

“I’ll be here, Bish. And I’ll call you right away and tell him how you’ve been here all along. Please,” Rookie pleaded. “You’re looking like a ghost.”

“Come on. We can work out. Eat. Watch UFC.” Jason was so fucking earnest.

“Please,” Rook begged him. “Two hours. Just go for two hours. I swear I’ll take care of Knight while you’re gone. I won’t leave his side. At all. For anything.”

He sighed, looked at Knight who was just there—still, silent. Pale. A shadow of himself.

“Look, if he wakes up while you’re gone, it’s still a good thing, right?” Rook nudged him and he actually chuckled.

He gave in. “Okay, okay. Two hours.”

“Come on. Let’s go.” Jason smiled at him, took his arm.

He looked at Rookie. “You need to go to the bathroom or anything before we go?”

Rook rolled his eyes. “Just go. I won’t abandon our K.”

“All right, all right.” He finally let Jason lead him out.

“Did you want your food?” Jason looked back at him. “I have to tell you, Rook picked it out. It was…interesting.”

“Have we got something decent at home?” At least Rook hadn’t made it.

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