Bringing Him Home by Penny Brandon Page A

Jared. Fuck.
    Kyle groaned again, but it wasn't from the pain in his body. God, what had he done? He closed his eyes against the feelings of shame and humiliation that stuck him with deep, relentless barbs. How could he have done that? How could he have left Jared like that? How the fuck had insecurities he'd thought long gone reared their ugly heads and made him risk losing something that could have been wonderful?
    Could have been, Kyle acknowledged. Now he'd never know.
    Pain in his body began to flare a little brighter, converging around his ankle and chest specifically. Struggling, Kyle looked down and saw his left ankle encased in a cast. He wriggled his toes experimentally and cursed all living hell at the sickening pain that hit him. Okay, don't do that again, he warned himself, conscious of the beads of sweat that dewed his skin. With his right hand, he probed his chest, felt bandages wrapped around it and a deep-seated ache he reckoned was from bruising and not broken ribs. Though knowing his ankle seemed to be the worst of his problems didn't seem to help, because he ached all over and he felt tired and listless, worn and damaged. His vision swam, and a headache started to form behind his eyes. Okay, maybe his ankle wasn't the worst of his problems. Fighting nausea and dizziness, Kyle closed his eyes and felt unconsciousness begin to creep in. Sleep or otherwise, it didn't matter. It would take away the pain, and so Kyle gave in, letting it take him.
    When he woke, Kyle had the distinct feeling he was not alone. Struggling with disorientation, he tried to sit up and then thought better of it, instead turning his head to the side.
    Jared sat slumped in a chair, arms crossed over his wide chest, longs legs straight out, eyes narrowed into slits, his mouth in a grim line. Shocked, Kyle stared at him, not quite believing Jared was there, yet feeling a profound sense of relief at the sight of him. He attempted a smile but wasn't sure if he'd succeeded, especially when Jared didn't smile back.
    At a loss, he waited, unsure what to say, unsure if he could even start to say something that could repair what he'd done. Jared stared back, silent; however, his gold-flecked eyes spoke volumes, and Kyle was fully aware of what Jared was thinking. And what he was thinking didn't give Kyle any sense of hope. Slowly, though, Jared's mouth softened, and the glittering in his eyes softened with it, though by no means was he anywhere close to cracking a smile. He hauled himself out of the chair, arms now hanging loosely at his sides. He wore a soft pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that Kyle thought might have originally given Jared that menacing look, but the way Jared advanced toward him, Kyle decided the menace was all in Jared's body language.
    Kyle tensed, ready for the explosion, waiting for the questions he didn't want to answer, couldn't answer if he was to save any pride, but maybe pride was overrated. However, when Jared stood over him, placing one hand on the bed and leaning closer, the accusations Kyle expected didn't come.
    "How are you?" Jared's voice was edged with a hint of anger, but it was obvious he was trying to suppress it.
    "Um, fine, I guess." Kyle's throat was tight, and his words came out dry and croaky. He tried to swallow and found he couldn't.
    Jared made an impatient sound and handed him a glass with a straw dipped inside, and Kyle thankfully sucked some fluid into his mouth. He tried swallowing again and half moaned in pleasure as the cool liquid slid down his throat. Jared frowned and, after allowing him another sip, laid the glass back down on the trolley at the side of the bed.
    Kyle suddenly remembered someone giving him water before, remembered also the attention he'd received from a variety of nurses and doctors, but they all seemed like a blurred dream or a memory long forgotten. He blinked, clearing some of the confusion in his head. "How long have I been here?"
    Jared frowned again. "Don't you