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The quiet was unsettling. Quick had been there last night. Had come to him, fought for him, held him, carried him, but he didn’t remember anything else. Did he leave? Did he not forgive Cayson? He sat up slowly, easing his legs over the side of the bed. He took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before blowing it out. It did nothing to ease the pain. Sighing in defeat, Cayson stood slowly, careful for his first few steps that he didn’t get dizzy and fall. He was closing his bathroom door when he heard the sound of footsteps downstairs.
He moved a little faster to the railing, peering over the side. He saw Quick on his hands and knees, shirtless, in a pair of jeans, his long hair tied up into a loose man bun. There was a bucket of soapy, pink-tinged water beside him as he scrubbed the mess that’d been made on Cayson’s hardwood floors last night. Even though there was blood on his wall and in several other places in his trashed living room, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Quick. He was there. That was all that mattered.
Cayson smiled, his heart soaring. Even if Quick was there as a friend and no longer a lover… he’d take it. Every damn scrap or bone, he’d take it. “Rome,” he said, his voice sounding like a frog croaking. He coughed and tried to clear it, making his way to the stairs, but Quick was already taking them three at a time up to him and was stopping him from trying to come down.
“Baby. What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting,” Quick asked, dipping low to look into Cayson’s eyes.
Without another thought, Cayson flung his arms around Quick’s waist and held on. “I don’t need rest.”
“Yes, you do. Come on.” Quick held Cayson in his big arms, moving him back towards the bed.
“No. I’m fine. What I need is a shower. I smell like the dead.” Cayson grimaced. He also needed some answers, but he was scared to ask any questions. He fidgeted nervously, needing to at least say this before he made another move. “I, um. I also want to know where I stand with you. Have you cut bait and thrown me back in?”
“What?” Quick frowned.
“Nothing. Bad fishing reference my dad used to always say.”
Quick held Cayson at arm’s length. They stared at each other for several minutes and Cayson thought he might be getting ready to hear some disturbing news, until he saw a rapt determination spread over Quick’s rough features right as he went down on both knees, tightly holding Cayson’s hands in front of him.
“Marry me.”
Cayson gasped, then blinked like maybe he hadn’t heard right. Was that his answer to “Where do I stand with you?”
“Rome.” Cayson’s breath whooshed out of him. Holy shit! Was he for real? Yes! The answer’s yes!
“Cayson. I’m not trying to terrify you by asking you to spend your life with me. But, this is real. It’s what I feel.” Quick stood up and walked them back until they were sitting side by side on the bed. He kept Cayson’s hands clutched to his chest while he went into a long explanation of exactly what happened yesterday, from the time he left Cayson in his home before dawn, to the long stint at the precinct, to the misunderstanding between him and Ford. Laid it all out there. Even about his anger episodes. There needed to be no more secrets so there’d be no more confusion.
He was grateful that Brian was safe at his brother’s home, recovering from a concussion and a fractured jaw. Cayson was left short of breath when he found out that Brian had been the one to convince Ford to leave the hospital and come help him when he pushed the alarm on his watch. Brian wasn’t mad at him and didn’t blame him for Joe’s acions. Cayson was fine to let all of that burden rest heavily on Joe’s shoulders while he sat in jail, for however short a time that turned out to be, facing a couple counts of conspiracy and extortion and a few more of harassment.
According to Duke’s phone call to Quick that morning, Joe had already posted bond and was out on bail. He was not able to practice medicine or initiate contact with any of them. Quick’s voice was stern when he told Cayson to call the police immediately if Joe contacted him in any way.
“I’m not sure if all those charges will stick, but one or two might, if we both testify. This was not your fault, Cayson, and I hate myself for not being here for you. Not being at that hospital when Ford went crazy on you.”
“Stop,” Cayson whispered. “I think maybe we should both stop trying to accept blame and just—”
