Anterograde Page 10

  He thrusts gently against Calden, their cocks moving against each other. Calden grabs his hips, pulling him closer.

  “The first time, we did this. Just this. And kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.”

  He demonstrates with a toe-curling kiss that makes Calden’s mind feel light and his cock feel like it’s burning.

  “The second time,” Eli continues, pressing a line of kisses along Calden’s jaw to the sensitive spot beneath his ear, “you fucked me so hard, I swear I saw fireworks.”

  He punctuates that with a light bite. Calden’s eyes snap open—he’s not sure when they’d closed. Without thinking, he bucks, pushes, presses up and to the side, and Eli is now beneath him, their positions reversed as Calden’s hips jerk forward. A flash of pain on his face, and Calden remembers the fresh tattoo, and the sensitive skin he’s pressing on. He pushes up, placing a small kiss on the bandage like an apology.

  “And the time after that, you fucked me, didn’t you?” he guesses in a low, rumbling voice, looking at Eli from beneath his eyelashes and bucking lightly against him.

  “No,” Eli says with a half smile, cupping Calden’s face in his hand. “That time, I made love to you. I took you apart until you couldn’t say anything other than my name.”

  A shiver runs through Calden. He can imagine that quite well.

  “And the time after that,” Eli goes on, “I did fuck you. Your mouth first, and then your ass, and I’m fairly certain you enjoyed yourself.”

  A laugh bubbles to Calden’s lips, and he turns his face to press it into Eli’s palm.

  “Plenty of things we’ve done,” Eli murmurs. “Plenty more we’ve yet to try. So you tell me. What do you want, Calden?”

  As Calden looks at the man underneath him and remembers the declarations inscribed on his skin like a truth that can’t, won’t ever be deleted, the answer comes easily. What he wants is to make Eli happy. To give him however much he can, even if it’s nowhere near enough. To never grow tired of him—and for this, certainly, his illness will help, although Calden doubts he’d have ever become bored with Eli even with his full mind’s cooperation.

  “Everything,” he says in a shaky voice. “I want everything.”

  Eli grins up at him. “Good answer.”

  (next chronological chapter)

  September 5th

  Calden seethed all the way home, getting out of the car and banging the door behind him before Eli had even shut off the engine. Eli sighed, turned off the car, and went after his ill-tempered companion.

  His behavior was not, as such, anything new. Every time he hit the two-day limit and Langton, at Eli’s request, sent him home, Calden grew angry and sullen. In those moments, he was most like the man he’d been after Riley’s death, when he’d started stealing opiates from the hospital.

  Eli wanted to think Calden wouldn’t do anything like that now—not that he’d even have the opportunity with Eli following his every step in the hospital. But his anger at being sent home still made Eli deeply uneasy. He lingered on the doorstep for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, steeling himself, and walking in.

  Discordant notes banged on the piano greeted him. He looked warily toward the living room, wondering whether it was worth going in there and talking to Calden.

  Soon, though, he realized he was only delaying the inevitable. He hung his jacket on a hook in the entrance hallway and toed off his shoes before following the sounds coming down the corridor. He was hardly a saint, but his reserves of patience had developed over the past months. He’d walked into this situation with his eyes wide open about what he was in for, and complaining now wouldn’t change anything.

  He braced himself before walking into the living room, the same way he used to do when walking onto the battlefield. He expected to have to shout over the continued God-awful chords Calden was pounding on his piano, but as soon as he stepped in Calden stopped and pointed a finger toward him.

  “I’m not tired, and I’m not going to sleep, and there’s nothing you can do to force me.”

  Eli bit his tongue rather than saying that, yes, there actually was something he could do. Calden himself had handed him that weapon. Eli had never used it to date, nor did he plan to. Some threats simply should not be voiced.

  “You’re right,” he said instead. “I can’t force you to do anything. But your mother thinks she can. If you step out of the building again before getting a few hours of sleep, I guess we’ll see if she’s right.”

  They’d never needed to go that far, but Eli and Lana had discussed it after Calden’s nine-day adventure in stupidity. If it took a hypodermic needle and a sedative to get him to sleep when he needed it… well, Lana had no problem with tough love, and Eli could agree to it if it meant Calden didn’t have to listen to his sister again.

  The look of pure outrage Calden gave him was almost comical. He stood and came closer to Eli, glaring at him.

  “For Lana to treat me like a child is one thing,” he said icily. “She’s never done anything else. For Langton and Petters to do the same… well, they’re worried about having a liability on their hands. But you? I thought you were my friend. Are you really no more than my babysitter?”

  It wasn’t a new conversation. Eli sighed.

  “You don’t need a babysitter, Calden. And if you did, I wouldn’t have volunteered for the job. You need someone who can remember what things are like when you go beyond your limits. Do you want to know what happened last time?”

  Calden continued to glare, though he didn’t say anything.

  “Last time,” Eli went on evenly, “you had a psychotic break. You were having hallucinations, both visual and auditory. You yelled at Samford. You came close to giving her a concussion. You climbed—” Eli’s voice started to waver, and he struggled to firm it up again. “You climbed onto the hospital roof, and I swear to God, Calden. For a moment I thought… I don’t want to go through that again. If that means you’re going to get mad every time you get sent home, frankly, I don’t care. I’d rather have you angry at me than psychotic.”

  After holding Calden’s gaze for a few more seconds, Eli nodded once then retreated to the kitchen to help himself to some food. He never liked remembering that day, and how scared he’d been.

  “Do you want some lasagna?” he asked without looking back, aware that Calden had followed him.

  “Why two days?” Calden asked instead of answering. “Why not one, or three? Explain to me the logic behind this arbitrary number.”

  After setting two plates of frozen lasagna in the microwave, Eli turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. Calden’s face was still pinched, but he wasn’t shouting or glaring. That was at least something.

  “The logic is simple,” Eli said. “Two days is when the hallucinations start.”

  “It’s been two days.” Calden made a show of looking all around him. “No hallucinations.”

  Eli’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “And you’d tell me if there was something, of course,” he said with a thick layer of sarcasm. “You’d never, ever lie to me about something like this. Or about anything else, really.”

  The last part came out with a little too much heat, and Eli snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to bring that up again, but judging from the guilty look that crossed Calden’s features, he knew exactly what Eli meant.

  “I apologized,” Calden said quietly. “And you forgave me. Or were you lying?”

  Eli shook his head. “No. I wasn’t lying. I did forgive you. I’m sorry I said that. But it is still true that you have lied to me before, about important things. About being on drugs. About sleeping. About hallucinations. And you know damn well I can never tell when you’re lying to me.”

  The microwave dinged. Eli popped it open and peered in. Satisfied that the food looked hot enough, he retrieved the plates and set them on the table. Without a word, Calden pulled forks and knives from a drawer and sat in front of one of the plates while Eli fill
ed two glasses with water before sitting across from him.

  “I’m not lying,” Calden said after taking his first bite of food. “I haven’t seen or heard anything whose existence was questionable. Do you believe me?”

  Eli took a long drink of water to give himself time to think. He hadn’t heard Calden mutter to himself or seen him stare at empty spaces, and those were usually the first signs.

  “I believe you,” he said at last cautiously.

  “So you will agree with me that the two-day rule, while prudent, is not always necessary. I could have kept working and—”

  “This time,” Eli cut in. “Maybe. But how long? Maybe in another couple hours you’d have seen—”

  He stopped before saying Riley’s name and finished with a vague gesture instead. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to tell Calden what the hallucinations he knew about had been. He didn’t want to risk influencing what the next one might be.

  “If I had, I would have told you.”

  Eli couldn’t help a light snort at that. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

  “With good reason, I would. And if telling you when the hallucinations start was the condition for having more time to work, it would be a good enough reason.”

  “You say that now. Maybe you even mean it. But by the time the next attack comes around, you won’t remember this.”

  “Which is what the diary is for.”

  Calden practically bounded to his feet. He went to retrieve the diary in the living room and returned with it.

  “I’ll put in there that I must tell you about hallucinations as soon as they happen and defer to your judgment,” he said, a pen already in hand. “And in exchange you’ll lift the ridiculous two-day rule.”

  “Wait a second,” Eli said, alarmed. “I didn’t agree to that. I know you, if I give you any leeway you’ll run with it.”

  Calden’s lips tightened to a thin line. He sat down again, one foot tapping impatiently.

  “Before all this, I sometimes went up to six days with no sleep when I needed to. I did it all the time during my residency. I should get that much, barring hallucinations.”

  “Before all this,” Eli said, imitating his tone, “I’d have told you the same thing I’m going to say now. As a doctor, that’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve heard you say. And as a doctor, you know I’m right. Besides, you didn’t go six full days during your residency. You took catnaps every time you could. We all did.”

  Calden grimaced. “Five days, then. Five days and my promise to always tell you about hallucinations even if it’s right in the middle of surgery.”

  Eli should have known better. He even told himself he knew better. But Calden was looking at him with such hope… It wasn’t often Eli got to make him happy. And if it meant Calden truly told him about hallucinations when they happened…

  “Three days,” he said with a sigh. “But only if the hospital really needs you. The rest of the time, you’re still at two days tops.”

  “Four days for work, then.”

  Hoping he wouldn’t regret it, Eli nodded. “Four days. But no sharp instruments in your hands beyond the second day. You’ll supervise, nothing more. Deal?”

  He could see the battle rage on in Calden’s eyes. On one hand, it was twice as long as he had now. On the other, doing little more than watch and give his advice during surgery wasn’t something he cared for, even if it was something the hospital could use. In the end, Calden sighed and inclined his head.

  “Deal.”

  Was the fact that neither of them was truly happy about this deal a good sign? Eli certainly hoped so.

  “Go ahead, then. Write it in. And then off to bed you go.”

  “Not tired,” Calden muttered as he opened the notebook and started writing.

  “Come on, you really need to get some sleep,” Eli said as sternly as he could manage.

  Calden didn’t even acknowledge his words. Only after he’d finished scribbling and had closed the notebook again did he look up, observing Eli closely.

  “What do you get out of this?” he asked. “The diary says you moved in as soon as I left the hospital. And that you separated from Bryce shortly before that. Was moving in a way to escape your marriage?”

  As Calden spoke, Eli’s body tensed, as though preparing for a blow. He didn’t like that there was a page about him in the diary—and he liked even less not knowing what was there exactly—but it wasn’t like he had a good reason to ask Calden not to write anything about him.

  “I didn’t need an excuse to escape my marriage,” he said grimly. “And if I had, your illness wouldn’t have been it. What I get out of it is to help my friend. Isn’t it enough?”

  He’d seen that look on Calden’s face before. He knew what it meant. And right now, it terrified him. He didn’t want Calden to figure out anything about his motives. They couldn’t go there. Not ever. He’d realized as much early on, and he’d promised himself not to follow that trail. It couldn’t possibly lead to anything good, not with Calden’s mind being wiped away every few hours or days.

  Standing from the table, Eli picked up the empty plates and set them in the sink before fleeing the kitchen. It didn’t work, of course; Calden followed him to the living room.

  “No, I don’t think that’s enough,” Calden said thoughtfully. “Friendship goes both ways. You’re rendering me a service of incommensurable importance, and in exchange you get… what? Me banging doors on you and arguing about my bedtime? Why do you put up with me? No one else ever did.”

  “I don’t put up with everything,” Eli said, but to his own ears the protest sounded weak. He picked up a book from the bookcase but set it down again, feeling listless. “When you act like an asshole, I call you on it. And I get mad at you for it. And…”

  And he was grasping for words that wouldn’t come. He wanted to step back again, flee the intensity of Calden’s stare, but he couldn’t move, like an insect pinned under scrutiny. Any second now Calden would cut him open and look inside to see what made him tick.

  “Yesterday,” Calden said, tilting his head to one side, “when we arrived at the hospital, Nurse Lawson called us ‘lovebirds’. You didn’t correct her. You didn’t roll your eyes or sigh or react in any way. According to the diary, I’ve observed five separate instances during which you said nothing even though ‘we’re just friends’ would have been your expected response outside the hospital. In the hospital, you were always even more forceful when denying such assumptions.”

  Eli’s heart felt like it was beating much too fast suddenly. His mouth was dry. His feet were still rooted in place.

  “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Eli?” Calden continued, and Eli wasn’t sure whether he was imagining the light tremor in his voice or if it was truly there.

  Shaking his head was the hardest thing he’d done in a long while.

  “You should… You should go to sleep,” he said. “You’re talking nonsense.”

  “Am I?” Calden took one step closer until he was crowding Eli’s personal space. “Your husband thought there was something between us, and he was arguably the person who knew you best other than me. You’ve moved in with me. You take care of me. You stopped denying we’re anything more than friends. Are you really sure you have nothing to tell me?”

  Eli licked his lips and gave a tiny shake of head, more for his own benefit than for Calden. Whatever was happening here, nothing good would come of it. Calden was who he was, who he’d been on June second, and he’d never be anything or anyone different. He hadn’t loved Eli then, and he’d never love him, not when everything was reset every few days. It was as plain and simple as that.

  “There’s nothing I can tell you that would change the way you feel,” he said, choking a little on the words when he realized he was confessing at the same time that he refused to. “Whatever I say, you’ll forget when you go to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll look at me and you’ll see your best friend. And I promise you I’l
l do my very best to see the same thing. You never have to worry about me taking advantage of you.”

  An eternity trickled by them. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but time seemed to have stopped.

  “What if,” Calden said, restarting the clock. “What if I said that I have seen more than a best friend in you for quite a long time? What if I said hearing you got engaged was the most horrible news you ever gave me and it killed me to have to stand as your best man?”

  He was scared, Eli was shocked to realize. That tremor in his voice… the way he blinked and would only meet Eli’s eyes for the briefest of instants before looking away again… the way he was confessing without actually doing so, just like Eli…

  Calden was scared.

  Calden, who had virtually no filter between brain and mouth, was scared to say something.

  Somehow, knowing that he was scared meant that Eli didn’t have to be anymore.

  “If you said that,” he said very low, and raised a tentative hand to curl at the back of Calden’s neck, “then I’d say I love you.”

  The beaming smile that bloomed on Calden’s lips was everything Eli could have hoped for, everything he had never dared hope for. It made taking this risk worth it. Calden would forget, but Eli had said it at least once when he’d thought he would never get the chance, and it felt good just to have voiced the words, to have witnessed Calden’s reaction.

  Or rather, it felt good until Calden’s smile faded and his brow furrowed.

  “I can’t forget,” was all he said before storming out.

  Stunned and shattered, Eli needed a few seconds before reacting and running after him. He reached the street only moments behind him, but already Calden was halfway down the street, running, disappearing past a corner. Eli shouted his name, but Calden didn’t slow down.

  Eli took a few steps toward the driveway, intending to take the car to catch up with Calden, but it dawned on him that he was barefoot. More importantly, the car keys were in his jacket, hanging in the entrance hall. He hurried back inside, stumbling a little as he pushed his feet into his shoes. He was about to rush back out but had an idea. Pulling out his phone, he called Calden, mentally begging him to pick up rather than let the call go to voicemail.