Wholehearted (7 page)

Declan approached Lucas slowly, as if he was a scared puppy, not wanting to spook him. He got close enough to touch him before Declan unfolded the scrub pants and knelt down in front of Lucas, holding them out for him to step into. Lucas bent slightly at the waist, placing his hands on Declan’s shoulders to steady himself as he lifted each foot. It was exactly what Declan had wanted all along, to be able to support the smaller man, to be his literal shoulder to lean on if he needed it. Being able to help made him happier than he wanted to admit. He pulled the pants up over Lucas’s hips and brushed the backs of his fingers along the tight abs as he tightened the drawstring at the front.

Declan stood, placing his hands gently on his shoulders and turning him around to face the bed. He fingered the white ties that held the gown closed before tugging gently. The back of the gown parted to reveal pale skin. Declan let his eyes wander up and down Lucas’s back, taking in the movement of his muscles and the peaks of his shoulder blades as he held his arms out to let Declan take the gown off.

He bunched the pale fabric in his hands and tossed it on the bed. Lucas turned back around to look at him.

The skin on his front was mottled with shades of a violent rainbow. Blotches of purple, black, and yellow decorated his skin, and off to one side, a bright patch of white where the gauze covering his stitches was taped. Declan sighed and tried to remain calm despite the cold weight that had settled into his gut at the sight of the damage the unknown attacker had left behind.

“You need something warmer than a T-shirt.” Declan walked to the other side of the room and picked up his jacket. “You can wear this.”

He helped Lucas push his arm through the sleeves, and draped the other side over his shoulder. He didn’t want to risk trying to get the cast into the jacket. The doctor had warned them that it was possible for his shoulder to become dislocated again if they weren’t careful, until he was fully healed.

Lucas was a couple of inches shorter than Declan’s six foot two, and paired with the weight loss from the hospital stay, the coat was a little on the big side for him. Declan lined up the two sides of the zipper and pulled the tab up, wrapping him in the soft leather. Leather looked good on him, Declan thought.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, and thanks, man, for the help,” Lucas said quietly.

“No problem.”

Lucas reached out and picked up the book Declan had bought for him. It was the only thing he had to take with him from the hospital.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“’Kay,” Lucas replied and followed Declan into the elevators. Declan was careful to move slowly. He knew that the injuries were making it difficult for Lucas to walk. The guy was fiercely independent, and somehow Declan didn’t think he would respond too well to being treated like an invalid. It had been hard enough for him to ask for help getting dressed. A wheelchair on the way out of the hospital was policy, but Declan decided to let him do as much for himself as he could, as long as he didn’t push his limits too far.

T
HEY
FINALLY
got to Declan’s car, and Declan unlocked the door for Lucas, but didn’t help him get in. He kept an eye on him for signs of discomfort, but Lucas seemed to manage all right.

“How far to your place?” Lucas asked, struggling with the seat belt.

“About half an hour as long as we don’t hit traffic. It’s not too far from here.” Declan wanted to reach across Lucas, and pull the belt over to click it into place, but he held back. He needed Lucas to know that he was aware Lucas was able to do most of the little things for himself. That, and he didn’t want to invade Lucas’s personal space, for a variety of reasons.

He turned the key in the ignition, sparking the car to life, and steered them out onto the street, heading home.

“Are you from Hope Cove?” Lucas asked after a few minutes of relatively uncomfortable silence.

“Nope. I grew up in California, moved to Arizona for school, then Austin for work. Left Austin and came here.”

“Why’d you leave Austin?”

“That’s a long story,” Declan said.

“We have half an hour,” Lucas prodded.

“I just wanted a change.”

“That was a pretty quick explanation for a long story.”

“Yep.” Declan wanted Lucas to feel comfortable with him, and he knew that opening up would help to gain his trust, but Austin was still a sore subject for him. Lucas wasn’t the only one with a past.

Lucas didn’t push any more than that, and Declan was grateful.

“So you like living in Maine?” Lucas asked, changing the subject.

“I do. I like the town, the people, my house, even my job is great.”

“So you have the perfect life, then?” The tone of Lucas’s voice made it clear how he felt about small town picture-perfect life. He didn’t sound all that impressed.

“Pretty much. I didn’t think I could get this lucky, but someone up there must like me, because I’ve been pretty fortunate lately.”

“Must be nice.”

“How about you? You wanna tell me about what your life is like?”

“Not really,” Lucas said, focusing his gaze out the passenger-side window.

“Come on. You said yourself we have half an hour to kill. I told you what mine is like.”

“Mine is the opposite of yours. I grew up in Illinois, didn’t go to school, got a job right away doing odd construction jobs around town before one of the guys I worked with told me he was getting into fishing. It’s hard work, but you can make a lot more money doing that than almost anything else. Gave up my apartment and my job, and went to work on a boat. I’ve tried fishing for crab and halibut, but found that lobster made the most money. Season’s open year-round too if you’re in the right spots. I’ve made the ocean my home for the last four years.”

“You like fishing?”

“Nope. It totally sucks. By the time the boat gets back into port, every muscle and bone in your body hurts. You’ve never experienced pain and cold for real until you’ve worked on a fishing boat. The boats I’ve been on usually sail north into the waters outside Canada. There’s some really great fishing there, but it’s cold as fuck. Some mornings you wake up to the deck completely frozen.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It can be. We’ve lost a couple of guys. If you get your foot caught just right, you can be thrown overboard in a second. It doesn’t take long after that for the cold water to kill you. If the guys on deck don’t haul you out fast enough, you’re dead.”

“So why’d you keep doing it if it’s so horrible?”

“What other option have I got? I have no education, no skills, no home, and no family. Everything I own fits in a tiny four by four storage unit with space to spare. Fishing seemed like the best way to make a living for now.”

“And later?”

“Dunno. Haven’t given it much thought. I guess I’ll keep at it until my body gives out, or I’m killed on that fucking boat. Whatever.” He shrugged as if what he had just said was no big fucking deal, as though being killed before thirty was a commonplace thing, and accepted as fact.

Declan steered the car onto the road that wound down along the coast. He lived at the southern edge of town, on a hill above the beach, his house overlooking the water. He tried to talk to Lucas as they drove past the dock, not wanting him to see where the police tape still separated the spot where Declan had found him.

Anger surged through him driving near the scene of Lucas’s beating. “What was the name of the boat you were on?”

Lucas whipped his head around as he turned to face Declan. “I don’t remember,” he said evasively. Declan knew he was probably lying, but it wouldn’t do any good to press the issue now. He had time.

 “We’re almost there,” Declan said, reassuringly.

“’Kay” was Lucas’s only reply.

A few minutes later, they were rounding the last corner and pulling into Declan’s driveway. He hadn’t been so happy to see home in a long time. The light-blue Cape Cod–style home sat perched on the hill, the trees around it protecting it from the wind that came whipping off the water.

“Nice place,” Lucas said, his voice clipped.

“Thanks. I bought it when I moved here about a year ago. It needed some major repairs, but I’ve managed to get most of them finished myself. I’m still working on a few projects, but it’s coming together pretty well.”

“Uh-huh.”

Declan bounded up the front steps and unlocked the door, then waited for Lucas to catch up before opening it and ushering him inside.

“I’ll show you your room first and then give you the grand tour if you’d like.”

“Whatever.”

Declan closed the door behind Lucas, and then led him down the hall to the guest room. It wasn’t fancy, but the bed was comfortable and the sheets were clean. Anything had to be better than the hospital, anyway.

“This is your room. The dresser’s empty if you were wanting to put your stuff in it.”

Lucas scowled and tossed the book on the top. “There. All put away.”

“Right. I’ll see if we can get someone to run out to your storage locker and retrieve your clothes and stuff. In the meantime, I’ll grab you a pair of sweats and a T-shirt you can wear.”

Lucas didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, this is your room and—”

“I think I’m going to lie down for a bit… have a nap,” Lucas interrupted.

“Oh, right. Sure. I’ll let you get some rest. We can do the rest of the tour when you get up.”

“Whatever.”

Declan backed up toward the door, “Have a good sleep.”

“Yeah.”

He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Lucas had finally seemed like he was warming up to Declan, but now that they were home, it felt like they were back at square one. The surly, angry jackass had made his reappearance, and Declan didn’t like the mood swings much. He tried to be understanding—the guy had been through a traumatic experience, after all—but at the heart of it, Lucas was just being rude. Declan had done everything he could think of to make him feel welcome and comfortable. He’d saved his life, and Lucas didn’t seem the least bit grateful.

“Whatever,” he muttered. Great. Now he was starting to sound like the moody sailor.

He retired to the living room, plopped himself down on his sofa, and turned on the TV. Like always, there was nothing on, and a few minutes of channel surfing had him feeling even more frustrated and antsy.

He turned off the TV and picked up his phone, dialing the familiar phone number to his boss’s house.

“Hey, Oliver,” he said when his friend picked up the phone. He and Oliver had become friends after Oliver had come to Hope Cove. Oliver’s sister had died, and Mack had flown him in to deal with her estate. Somewhere along the way, Mack and Oliver had fallen in love, and much to the surprise of the couple, Hope Cove seemed to be okay with having a gay sheriff.

“Hey, Declan, what’s up? Are you still in Ellsworth, or are you back now?”

“Lucas was discharged this morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Declan asked.

“You seemed to really like him, and he’s gone. I just thought maybe you were a little upset and that’s why you were calling?”

“What? No. He uh, he’s actually going to be staying with me for a little while.”

“Oh,” said Oliver, “
Oh
, oh!”

“No. Not oh. Oh nothing. He’s asleep in the guest room right now. I’ve only offered so he has a place to go. The guy usually works on fishing boats, and since he was apparently thrown off his last one, he doesn’t have anything. I offered to let him crash here until he’s healed and up on his feet again.”

“And you’re going to be okay with that?”

“What do you mean? Of course.”

“All right, Dec. Whatever you say.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at.”

“Mack told me,” Oliver said quietly.

“Told you what?”

“How you reacted to this guy on scene. He said it reminded him of his reaction to me finding out about my heart.”

Declan thought about it for a second. Maybe the reaction had been a bit similar. The cause was completely different, though. Mack had freaked out when he found out that Oliver’s sister Maggie had died of a heart attack. The medical examiner had told him that the heart condition was genetic, and that Oliver had a 50 percent chance that he had inherited the same condition from their mother. Mack had been almost inconsolable, but that was because Mack had been in love with Oliver. Declan wasn’t in love with Lucas. Yes, he might be slightly infatuated with him, a little crush maybe, but love? No way.

“I was just a little freaked out, that’s all. The guy was almost dead when I got to him. Anyone would have reacted the same way.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

Declan sighed. “Are you doing anything right now?”

“Want me to bring cinnamon buns?”

“Duh.”