Page 27 of Survival Game

“Hmm. That’s a start. Call me in the morning, let me know how you are.”

“Ahh, you care ’bout me. That’s so sweet.” Unfortunately, Kyle’s cute sentiment was spoiled by another bout of vomiting. “Yuck, gotta go. The porcelain beckons.”

The line went dead. Eric put down his phone and stared at it worriedly. Kyle sounded terrible. What they had was still new, but the last thing Eric wanted to do was be overprotective and scare Kyle away. The man had a stubborn streak that’d piss a mule off. If he said he didn’t want company, fine.

Tomorrow when he rang, Eric would see if he could get another date for them to meet up again before…fuck. He still hadn’t said anything to Kyle about the upcoming France trip.

Tomorrow, he promised. I’ll let him know then when we speak.

Unfortunately, Eric didn’t get the chance to speak to Kyle before Eric left two days later. Knee-deep in amniotic fluid delivering a pair of twin girls at the time, he’d missed Kyle’s call the next afternoon explaining in detail that he felt much better.

After the babies, Eric and Aaron’s other call-outs hadn’t been as rewarding and were doubly demanding. Over the next two days, London seemed to go crazy. They treated a man with a suspected heart attack, which turned out to be chest pains because he’d taken too much Viagra. They attended two student suicides at a local University, both heart-breaking and sobering. Drug overdoses were rife, as were stabbings. And when they called on an old man with dementia, he was dehydrated and delirious with pain from a beating by a gang of youths. When he saw Aaron, the poor man thought Aaron was his son, and Eric’s heart had broken.

In between this were the usual 999 calls that should have been referred to doctors and night clinics.

Already exhausted, disheartened, depressed and grumpy from lack of sleep—more nightmares had kept him up at night—when the time came for Eric to get on the plane to France, he’d sighed with relief.

His inner voice whispered, I’m sure he’s not going to miss me. He doesn’t need me being all moody in his life. I’m bad company right now.

Chapter Nine

Kyle wasn’t at work pining over the fact he hadn’t heard from Eric in a couple of days. He definitely fucking wasn’t.

His last message telling Eric he was feeling better had been unanswered. He didn’t even know if he’d read it. Not for the first time, Kyle wished he’d used Messenger or WhatsApp so he could tell.

He’d been tempted to call, but a streak of bloody-mindedness had crept in, a little voice whispering that perhaps Eric didn’t want to be contacted. That he wasn’t interested anymore.

Damn his insecurities. Kyle scowled and kicked the floor moulding moodily. Then he formed his mouth into a fake smile and knocked once on Ryan’s door before he opened it, then entered.

He had a job to do on pain of death from a positively scary man.

Ryan smiled up at him from his desk. “Hey, everything okay out there? Need me for anything?”

Kyle kept the smile on his face. “Nope. All under control, boss. How are you feeling?”

Ryan shrugged. “I’m fine and dandy. Chomping at the bit to get back to work without a bunch of fucking nursemaids watching my every move.”

Kyle grinned for real now. He sat down on the corner of Ryan’s desk. “Ooh, full-blown bitch alert. Isn’t it nearly your bedtime?”

Mango had insisted Ryan be home by ten every night as part of his recovery. Kyle was Mango’s unwilling accomplice.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Fuck. You.”

It was only nine pm.

Kyle sniggered. “Not my rules, boss. Them be Mango’s commands.” He peered over the desk down at Ryan’s legs. They were covered with black chinos but Kyle knew what had been under them until a few days ago. “At least those awful stockings have gone,” he drawled, fanning his face like a Southern belle. “I do declare, sir, such a shade of puce I never did see on a gentleman of your standing.”

Ryan chuckled. “Shut up, you.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Thank fuck they’ve gone. I hated wearing them. Such passion killers.”

“How are things…down there?” Kyle waved in the direction of Ryan’s groin.

In a weak moment, Ryan had confided that the medication he was on had caused some technical issues in sustaining an erection. The doctor had said it was normal and would resolve itself over time but Kyle knew Ryan was mortified it had happened.

“Getting better,” Ryan said. “It helps the medication is now maintenance only and not as high a dose as it was. I’ll be able to give it up for good in a week or so, I hope.”

Mango will be helping you get it up tonight, Kyle thought wickedly. He’s not going to let you off easy. Get you off, more likely.

He nodded, trying to keep the smirk off his face. “You’ve been through a lot, Ryan. And you came out with flying colours. Not many aftereffects, a clean bill of health, apart from the check-ups. You’re a lucky man.”