Honey Red by Liz Crowe Page A

incapable of even considering a relationship. As much as he was dying to curl up in the circle of Ian’s embrace and really sleep, truly relax in his arms, he wouldn’t. He was the proverbial wounded warrior. Doped up, blind, dependent on everyone around him even for simple things—useless for all intents and purposes. Apparently, even getting dressed it seemed. He stepped away from the other man’s soothing presence. “So, you know, that was fun and all, but, I um, well….” He ran a hand through his hair.
    “It’s okay,” Nick heard Ian getting re-dressed, resignation in his low voice. “I get it. Fun, but that’s it, right?”
    “Yeah. That.” Nick tried not to contradict himself by yanking the other man close, kissing him and never letting him go.
    “So, I’ll see you…around.”
    Nick heard him open then shut the front door. The sound deafened him with its finality. “Wait. Don’t leave,” he whispered, as he dropped to the couch, freshly pounding skull in his hands, the dog shoving its worried nose up in his face. By the time Alyssa got home, he was stretched out, in his usual half-asleep state, sounds and nightmares holding him hostage. She’d helped him to his room and pulled the bed covers up to his chin once he collapsed there, mumbling about Ian.
    He sighed, opened his eyes, and took hold of reality once more. Grabbing his encrypted phone he played back the audio of the text exchange he’d shared with the man in question in his Bluetooth earpiece. Ian Donovan with his built in family. The small boy that he’d raised from a newborn when the kid’s drug-addled mother had left him on Ian’s virtual doorstep, was, according to Alyssa, a near carbon copy of his father in looks and temperament. Nick was not about to subject that kid to his own personal hell. No matter how drawn he might be to the boy’s father.
    The meds, therapies, bone-crushing headaches and sudden scary descents into panic and depression—no, he’d keep all that to himself, thanks. Although, it would be nice to get laid again. He sighed and deleted the conversation so he wouldn’t be tempted to call him, to really talk. Of course, now it seemed he’d be confronted with Ian once more, in the oh-so-familiar confines of Alyssa’s house.
    He stretched and cocked his head, listening to yet another odd sound. It had to be the most annoying thing on the planet, this super-hero style hearing he’d developed. In the last six weeks he had gotten past a lot of the overload moments and was able to carry on conversations even when he could hear the next-door neighbors having sex or arguing. He’d tried to develop it, to embrace and not fight it, to keep it from making him nuts. He’d go on long walks, sit by the river, just listening. He did figure out how to discern from birds’ eggs cracking opening in nests nearby to the digging and chattering that went on amongst squirrels and other rodents.
    This sound was totally new and something he’d spent the last week trying to figure out. It was a kind of whoosh-whoosh sound, but with a steadiness, like an underwater drumbeat. “Hey,” Alyssa called out from the kitchen. “Thirsty?”
    “Yeah, I’m coming.” He stood, held out his hand and the dog’s lead slid into it. “You bastard, you really are pretty good at this aren’t you,” he smiled when the dog seemed to let out a little woof of agreement. They ambled into the kitchen and Nick sank into a chair, now completely familiar with the house’s layout and no longer earning bruises running into furniture or doors. “What’s up, sis?” He leaned towards her, hearing it again. “What in the hell is that noise?” He took the water and the pills she handed him.
    The noise got louder, then receded as she walked away. He gulped down the meds, then touched his earpiece which had started chirping the name of his boss. He shrugged and silenced the ringer, unwilling to engage that guy for the moment. Alyssa moved around the