Oliver's Online (8 page)

“If he’s the right guy for you, he’ll understand,” Patrick said.

Oliver wondered if Patrick believed the optimistic stuff coming out of his mouth. Maybe he’d poop rainbows next.

“I’ll apologize to him when I see him at work later.” Oliver’s eyes drooped. Between a nightmare and hot sex with Lane, he could barely keep his eyes open. He hoped he hadn’t done irreparable damage. He enjoyed working with Lane and really liked him as a person. However, if Lane couldn’t forgive him, he’d have to go job-hunting again.

After only one day of employment, he’d already ruined everything. How typical of him.

“It’ll be all right,” Ronnie said. “Lane’s a nice guy. I’m sure he’ll give you a chance to talk to him.”

“I hope so.” Oliver curled up into a ball. He appreciated his friends trying to cheer him up, but he just wanted to go back to sleep. He’d deal with everything tomorrow. It was too much today.

Patrick pulled the blanket over Oliver’s shoulder. “Get some rest.”

Oliver fell back asleep, hoping he wouldn’t dream.

The annoying blare of the alarm had Oliver groaning. His lids scraped like sandpaper across his eyes. Not sleeping had taken its toll on Oliver. Although he hadn’t revisited his nightmare, he had still tossed and turned all night.

Stumbling to the bathroom, he grimaced at the mirror. Bedhead and a creased cheek reflected back at him. Maybe a shower would help. If nothing else it, would settle his hair.

Turning on the shower, he waited for the water to reach close to scalding. He liked his showers hot to ease the ache in his muscles. His joints always hurt. Ever since the accident, the stress of walking with a limp put his body out of alignment. His spine and leg muscles protested his awkward gait, and sitting for long hours always aggravated the problem. For the first time since his surgery, his body ached from sex, and he didn’t care.

Remembering the care Lane had taken to make sure Oliver was as comfortable as possible brought a smile to his lips. Surely, a man that caring would give Oliver another chance.

Muscles long underused protested, but Oliver didn’t care. His erection hardened as he remembered the hot lovemaking from the night before. If he hadn’t messed things up, he had no doubt Lane would help him with his morning wood. Lane seemed like the type of man to give another guy a hand.

“I should’ve studied more for the phone sex,” Oliver muttered. If he’d listened to some porn or another phone-sex operator, he would’ve known the right thing to say to people when they called. Instead of lame responses, he could’ve said something hot and sultry.

“I’m such a dork.” Oliver sighed. “Maybe Lane likes dorks.”

He could only hope. He quickly rushed through his shower, so he could go see Lane, but upon stepping out the tub he tripped over the edge and fell forward. His damaged leg collapsed beneath the weight of supporting Oliver’s body. Before he knew what had happened, he tumbled headfirst into the sink.

The eerily familiar scent of cleanser and stale air greeted Oliver when he opened his eyes. White walls sent a wave of fear through him. Hospital.

It took several blinks for his vision to clear, and it still was a bit sparkly around the edges. “What happened?” he wondered out loud.

“You smacked your head on the sink and scared the crap out of us,” Ronnie offered. “It was like something out of a horror movie, blood was everywhere.”

Oliver shuddered. Memories of Dave bleeding to death and the sickly sweet scent of death soaking the air had bile rising in Oliver’s throat. He swallowed it back, thankfully grabbing onto the glass someone held out.

He sucked down the cool liquid, not stopping until he’d drained the container dry. Sweat beaded Oliver’s forehead, and when he raised his hand to wipe at it, someone grabbed his wrist in a firm but gentle hold.

“Careful, you don’t want to tear your stitches,” Lane said in a soothing voice.

“Lane! What are you doing here?” Oliver asked. He couldn’t think of one reason his boss and lover, possibly ex-lover, would be at the hospital with him.

“I called the house to find out why you didn’t show up for work. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t scared you away.” Lane frowned. “I heard you were in the hospital and came to check on you.”

“What happened? Was I in another accident?” He searched his mind but couldn’t remember getting into a car.

“Remember? You tripped in the bathroom and hit your head on the sink counter,” Patrick said.

Oliver wrenched his attention away from Lane to focus on his friend. Had Patrick always been a little fuzzy around the edges? Oliver tilted his head and gasped when a hard spike zapped through his skull.

“Ow!”

“Easy, you have a mild concussion,” Patrick warned.

“I have a case of the stupids,”Oliver snapped. His memory returned—well, part of it—as he recalled tripping on the tub.

“Hey, bathroom accidents happen all the time,” Lane soothed.

Oliver sighed. He touched his forehead, brushing across the rough spot with his fingertips.

Lane grabbed his wrist. “Leave your stiches alone.”

“How many are there?” Great, now he’d be a gimpy scarred freak.

“Only five. I doubt it will scar much.”

“I hope not.” Oliver sighed. Closing his eyes, he wished everyone would go away so he could peacefully wallow in his own angst.

“Don’t!” Lane snapped.

“Don’t what?” Oliver opened his eyes to glare at the bossy man.

“Don’t shut me out. Don’t block me away as if I’ll disappear if you wish hard enough. I want to be part of your life. Please let me.”

Oliver examined Lane’s expression, but he didn’t see pity or disgust or any of those other things he'd worried he’d spot. All he saw was concern and affection.

“I’m a mess. If you were smart, you would run the other way.” Oliver meant what he said. Lane deserved someone who didn’t trip on his own feet and cause himself ridiculous injuries. Lane should have someone who had two good legs and a lot less baggage than Oliver.

Lane leaned down and pressed a soft kiss across Oliver’s forehead. “I’ve never been known for making good choices, but I think you’re the best one I’ve made yet. Unless you are trying to find a good way to tell me you’d rather not get together with an ex-porn star…”

“No!” Oliver interrupted Lane, anxious to correct that thought right away. “Your past has no bearing on how I think of you.”

Lane smiled. “Good, neither does yours.”

“But you never killed anybody,” Oliver said. A gasp escaped him as he realized what he said. He clamped a hand across his mouth.

“Is that what you think?” Patrick asked, drawing Oliver’s attention away from Lane’s shocked gaze.

Oliver nodded then shook his head. He lowered his hand to speak. “Sometimes I wonder if there was some way I could’ve avoided the truck. If maybe we had taken a different road. Dave had wanted to take a different route and visit some small towns along the way. I just wanted to get there. If I’d listened to Dave, we would’ve both made it safely."

There. He’d said it. He’d confessed the truth. It was all his fault.

Lane wrapped a careful arm around Oliver. “Honey, you couldn’t have known. And who’s to say it wasn’t fate and by taking the other road something else would’ve happened? You can’t predict the future.”

Tears dripped down Oliver’s face. He’d never vocalized his secret belief before. Maybe if Dave had been driving or if they’d taken a different road. By his choices, he’d killed his lover.

“I…”

“No! It isn’t your fault!” Lane said firmly.

For the first time, Oliver believed that.

“I’ll go see if I can find the doctor. You should be able to go home now that you are awake.” Patrick said.

Oliver nodded but almost immediately regretted that motion. “What time is it?”

“Five in the evening. You hit your head pretty hard.” Patrick flashed Oliver a sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

“I just got here,” Lane said. “I was overseeing the camera placement for the web cam shows.”

Oliver had forgotten that part of Lane’s company. “Do you think that will cut into Vance’s business?”

Lane shook his head. “I doubt it. He doesn’t have any live shows. We have considered combining our services, but I want to be an independent company for now. I’ve worked for someone else for my entire life. Now is about standing on my own two feet. I have a feeling if I mix my work with Vance's, it will become his business only because he’s the one with experience.”

“Makes sense,” Oliver agreed.

He licked his dry lips. Lane’s eyes tracked the movement of Oliver’s tongue. To Oliver’s surprise, his cock returned the interest in Lane’s gaze by hardening and creating a tent out of his sheet.

“Want me to give you a hand with that?” Lane asked.

Oliver laughed. “I think that only happens in bad porn videos. In real life, you try not to be caught in compromising positions by the hospital staff.”

Lane shook his head. “In a porn video, the doctor would be a hot stud who’d join in the fun.”

“Sadly, this is real life and I’m not willing to strip naked on film,” someone said.

Oliver’s gaze went to the doorway. A gorgeous doctor with silver in his hair and bright blue eyes stood in the doorway.

“That’s a shame,” Oliver blurted out. He knew his cheeks probably turned even brighter. “It’s the medication,” he pointed to the IV stuck in his arm.

“That’s saline.” The doctor said with a smile.

Oliver shrugged. The doctor didn’t appear upset, so he didn’t offer an apology.

“Let’s take a look and see if you are doing well enough to go home, shall we?” the doctor asked.

Oliver gave a careful nod. He didn’t want to shake his head around too much. It ached from the stitches and where he banged it up.

The doctor pulled a tiny flashlight out of his white coat and approached. Patrick moved out of the doctor’s way. “I’m Dr. Craig Melvik, and it’s nice to see you awake.”

Oliver shook the hand offered. “Thanks.”

Melvik flashed the light into Oliver’s eyes. “Look directly at the light.”

He couldn’t help blinking at the brightness directed at his eyes but he tried to stay steady. Lane’s hand rubbing soothing circles across his back helped.

“Follow the light.”

Oliver obeyed even though his instinct was to flinch away.

“Any double vision?”

“No. A little fuzziness.”

“Hmm. Your x-ray didn’t show anything worrisome. I think if one of your friends is there to watch you and wake you up every hour, you should be fine. What do you think?” Melvik’s blue eyes held nothing but warm concern for his patient. Oliver relaxed beneath the doctor’s professional regard.

“I’ll watch him,” Lane said.

“He lives with me,” Patrick countered.

“I’m not letting him go again,” Lane growled.

“Well, I’ll let you two fight it out. As long as someone stays with Oliver, I’ll sign the release paperwork. The nurse will come in and take care of your IV, and I’ll give her a prescription for a painkiller you can take if your head begins to hurt too much.”

“Thanks,” Oliver said.

“No problem. You take care and don’t let them fight over you too hard.” With a friendly wink, the doctor left the room.

“I want my own bed,” Oliver announced. He caught Lane’s stricken look and quickly amended. “I wouldn’t mind having company, though.”

Lane nodded. “Good. It will be harder than that to get rid of me.”

Oliver smiled. Maybe hitting his head had knocked some sense into him. He was ready to move on with his life and see where a relationship with Lane might go.

Chapter Nine

Oliver bit back a laugh as Lane all but carried him up to his apartment. Actually, he had tried to pick him up and physically carry him, but Oliver had drawn the line and refused.

Becca met them at the door, and once they got inside, she did what she does best, ordering in a bunch of pizzas. She then came over and began to make a big fuss over Oliver.

“Didn’t I warn you how dangerous bathrooms could be?” she chastised.

“You also warned me how dangerous subways could be,” Oliver countered.

“They could suck you in.”

“And airplanes.”

“You never know when they’re going to crash,” Becca pointed out.

“And using my cell phone when I pump gas.”

“The static could spark a fire.”

Oliver threw up his hands. “The whole world is dangerous to you.”

She pouted. “I’m only trying to keep my Ollie safe.”

“Why don’t you wrap me in bubble wrap? It would be easier that way.”

She flicked him on the arm. “Don’t tempt me. I may just do that. It wouldn’t be just any bubble wrap either, it would be bright pink. That would teach you to mess with me.”

Lane leaned over and whispered in Oliver’s ear. “I’d watch out, she may just do it.”

Oliver sat on the couch. “There is no may. She would do it in a heartbeat if she thought she could actually get away with it. For some reason, she thinks that she’s my mother, and she has to protect me from the evils of the world.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said with an evil grin.

“Only because she doesn’t do it to you,” Oliver retorted.

In truth, he really didn’t mind it too much. It was Becca’s way of showing that she cared. Even if it was a bit annoying at times.

She reached up and fingered his stitches. “Hopefully, this doesn’t scar. If it does, we can always change your hairstyle to cover it.”

“He’ll look just fine either way,” Lane said.

Becca stared at Lane for several moments. “You know what? You just may be a keeper after all.”

Ronnie’s phone rang. He looked down at it and frowned. “That’s weird. It’s my cousin, Niles. I haven’t heard from him in ages. Excuse me for a moment while I go answer this.”

“So, what are you going to tell everybody about how you got the wound—kinky sex or ninja attack?” Becca asked.

“What?” Oliver laughed.

Becca sighed. “You can’t tell people that you got it in the bathroom. That’s just too boring. You have to make up an interesting story.”