“So, what have the doctors told you?” Ellis’ voice brings him back to the present.
“That I was driving and crashed, then brought here with a collapsed lung and shallow breathing. That I was sedated for a few days. That my heart stopped beating during surgery and that's why I might be confused and having issues remembering stuff,” he parrots what he was told.
There were other things, of course. They told him his name and gave him a brief rundown on his bio, none of it ringing any bells. Caledon Reeves, 38 years old, lives here in Gold Coast with his husband.
“Drunk driving,” Ellis says.
“What?”
“You were drunk driving. That’s why you crashed.”
“Why would I drink if I was about to drive?”
Ellis lets out an ugly snort. “Well, it seems to be your Achilles’ heel.”
That’s… No one told him, no one’s evenmentionedthat. Isn’t it something he should know about?
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember,” he repeats like a broken record. “I don’t feel like drinking.” Is it because of the meds they’re keeping him on? Or just because his body is too tired to summon up the craving?
“You’re probably high on morphine and shit, so…” Ellis says, adding to Cal’s theory.
Cal watches him closely, noticing the clench of his jaw and how Ellis can’t quite meet his eyes. “You’re angry with me.”
Ellis exhales harshly and fixes him with a hard look. “You’ve done some stupid shit, Cal, but this…” He gestures vaguely towards Cal. “I didn’t even know. Dawson had to tell me.”
A chill runs down Cal’s spine.
Dawson.
He was so…skittish yesterday, barely able to look at Cal. And the way he took off so suddenly…
Of course this is hard for him. To see his husband like this, knowing Cal has no idea who he is or what they are to each other…
Well, that’s not quite true. Even without his memories, Cal can feel it. The connection he has with Dawson. He must love him very much, even if he can’t remember.
Ellis, on the other hand… He gets nothing when he looks at him.
“We’re not close?” Cal asks.
“You could say that.” If they’re not, then why is Ellis here? Why was he here yesterday? Why does he care? “We own a business together. You took over when our dad passed away, stayed here. I moved to Sydney to run the office there.”
So that’s why. It’s all business for him.
Cal should probably ask about their dad, but it’s hard to care when he can’t remember caring in the first place.
“I…don’t think I’ll be able to work anytime soon.” More like ever. Where would he even start? And he’s supposed to be in charge? There’s no way.
“Yeah, I figured,” Ellis says, looking more exhausted by the second. He sighs and smoothes down his suit. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. As usual.” Cal winces. “I have to go. I have a meeting.”
“Thanks again for coming to see me,” Cal says quietly as Ellis walks to the door. “And for sorting things out at work.”
Giving him a stiff nod, Ellis opens the door and walks out.
Cal’s body feels like one giant bruise when he wakes up from a nap. Despite the stitches in his abdomen and chest, it’s his lower half that feels the worst. His ass has gone numb, and his legs are heavy as though infused with lead.
As much as he hates the exercises Eddie has given him, he has to, rather begrudgingly, admit that they make him feel better, especially when he’s so stiff. Figuring he might as well get it over with, he slides down the bed until he’s lying flat and starts doing them one by one, even adding two repetitions for each as Eddie encouraged him to do. It makes his wounds sting, but he can feel his muscles warming up and relaxing, so he pushes through. The more effort he puts in, the easier it will get and the quicker he’ll heal. He can’t wait to get out of here and go home with Dawson.
He tries not to be too cranky that Dawson hasn’t come to see him in two days. He’s aware that Dawson likely has more important things to do, as Ellis does, than to sit at Cal’s bed and hold his hand. Plus, Ellis said Dawson is still coping with the whole situation, and no one can blame him. But it’s hard to employ logic when he misses him so much.
