Page 9 of Cole
Devlin felt a wave of shame wash over him as he considered what Abel was experiencing. If he succumbed to fear and panic, he would be of no help to Abel and the kids. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Devlin straightened and wiped his eyes.
We’ll find you, baby—all of you—and we’ll get you back. I promise!
Cole looked up expectantly when Devlin entered the room. “Gabe…?”
“He’s out of surgery, and they’ve taken him to a room.” Devlin adopted a professional tone to keep his voice steady. “He’s still unconscious but should wake up soon.”
“I… I want to see him…” Cole stood unsteadily to his feet.
“Soon.” Devlin touched his arm and urged him to sit back down. “He isn’t ready for visitors yet. And…” He glanced at Dane. “… maybe we should wait for the officer and address that first.”
Cole nodded and sank into the chair, his face buried in his hands. “What if Gabe… doesn’t want to be with me anymore?”
The genuine fear in his words tore at Devlin’s heart. Such a notion seemed absurd; he couldn’t imagine one without the other. “That will never happen.”
Dane shook his head. “Not a chance in hell, babe,” he murmured, hugging his friend. “No one gets to choose their parents. You are not your father, and you never will be. You are good to the core. We’ve all seen it. There’s nothing bad lying dormant inside you, waiting to be awakened. Whatever made him a monster, he was born with. You weren’t. Understand?”
Cole sniffed and leaned into Dane’s embrace but didn’t acknowledge that Dane was correct.
I’m so sorry.
Gabe stirred, enveloped in a tar-like darkness.
It’s my fault.
His brow pinched, and his head jerked slightly. “Cole…?” he mumbled, hearing a thick rasp in his voice.
… all my fault…
The despair in his husband’s voice alarmed Gabe. “Cole…”Gabe forced his eyes open, his vision blurring for a moment before coming into focus. He stared at a high, white ceiling.This isn’t our bedroom.A smell hung in the air that sparked déjà vu and propelled him back to the night he was shot and woke up in the…
Hospital.
Gabe blinked and turned his head as sounds began to fill his ears: the faint beeping and hissing of machines, muffled voices outside his room, and the occasional intercom paging doctor so-and-so. Gabe looked down at the IV in his arm and followed the small tubing up to the bag of fluids hanging beside his bed. When he tried to shift, a pain shot through his side.
Gabe gasped quietly,“Fuck...”, and peeled back the blanket to find his midsection wrapped in a bandage. He struggled to remember what happened, his mind blanking on the events that landed him in the hospital.
I’m so sorry… it’s my fault.
Cole. He remembered Cole’s words against his ear, his arms clutching Gabe—the way he clung to me the night I was shot.Gabe stared at the bandage; had he been shotagain?He looked around the room; where was Cole? He should have been here. Gabe couldn’t imagineanythingthat would keep Cole from being by his side.
Gabe searched for the nurse’s call button. Before he found it, the door opened, and a man entered wearing a white doctor’s coat. He was an older man in his mid-to-late fifties, of average height with short, dark hair. The doctor picked up the clipboard attached to the foot of Gabe’s bed and studied the chart.
“Mr. Young, how are you feeling?”
“What… happened?” Gabe whispered thickly. “Where… is my husband?”
“He’ll be in to see you soon,” the doctor said. “You were attacked and stabbed. But you’re going to be fine.”
“Attacked…” Gabe closed his eyes tightly before opening them again. “I don’t remember…”
“That’s understandable. You’re coming out of the anesthesia, and it can disrupt your memory of recent events.”
Gabe sifted through his foggy memories, struggling to recall the attack. Nothing. “Can… can you please get my husband, doctor?”
The man walked closer. “Oh, I’m not a doctor.”
“Oh… I’m sorry,” Gabe mumbled. “Nurse?”
