Love Wins Anthology

Chapter 7

Chapter 7Josh tried calling Adam again. The phone was still off, and the voice mailbox was still full. So apologies and begging weren’t working. He wandered around the house unable to settle anywhere. For the hundredth time he asked himself if it was better to go searching for Adam or if he should just give the man some time to cool down.

But Adam had been gone for over six hours. Six hours! Adam never stayed angry that long. He never stayed angry at all. Maybe it was time to start calling their friends. And having to explain the whole foolish misunderstanding over and over? No. Not yet.

Damn! This was all his mother’s fault. If she hadn’t tried to shove a wedding down his throat, he wouldn’t have blown up. And Adam would be home where he belonged, snuggled next to Josh.

But did Adam still think of it as his home?

Well, he should. Josh had let him transform the house to suit his needs. Nesting. That’s what his mother had called it. But that was just psychobabble. Grown men didn’t nest. Adam just enjoyed nice things. Like the cozy, oversized furniture he’d talked Josh into buying.

After flinging himself onto the couch, Josh grabbed the throw Adam had picked out and wrapped it around himself, fingering the soft fabric. He buried his nose in it and inhaled deeply, catching a faint scent of Adam’s light, airy aftershave. Damn. Adam was supposed to be with him.

He looked up, suddenly alert. Was that a car in the driveway? No. Nothing. He slumped back down, and deciding the silence was too heavy, picked up the remote, and clicked on the television.

The local news was in the middle of some story about a fire at a bar. The camera showed ambulances leaving and people wrapped in blankets, holding oxygen masks on their faces. Smoke stains surrounded the doors and windows of the building, and the firefighters were moving in and out doing final checks. Looked like it was all over but the clean-up.

His waning interest picked up as an over-eager female reporter advanced on the cop in charge, stuck the microphone in his face, and started lobbing questions at him. The cop took a step back and found himself pinned against a car. A vintage red Mustang.

Josh stopped breathing, his eyes intent on the screen.

The reporter gave up badgering the cop and turned to the camera. “And that’s all we have at the moment. Festivities turned to terror. Was this an accident or was there some darker motive for the fire that destroyed this celebration of the same-s*x marriage ruling? We’ll bring you developments as they come to light. This has been Marianna Gutierrez for the Evening News, coming to you from Corrigan’s bar on Eighteenth and Market.

Sucking in great gasps of air, Josh started moving. He was in his car and on the road heading for Corrigan’s without a single thought intruding. Just the frantic hammering of his heartbeat driving him forward.

As he approached the scene, he slowed. Ignoring the cop trying to direct him around the clean-up operation, he pulled over and abandoned the car under a “No Parking” sign. Cutting across the parking lot, he paused behind the red Mustang to check the license plate. A ball of ice sank into his stomach. It was Adam’s. Adam had been in that bar.

Josh pressed his trembling hands to the ash-covered trunk and bowed his head, panting, tasting the smoke on his tongue. A low moan escaped his throat. Please, please let him be all right.

Straightening, he forced himself to calm down. There was no time to fall apart. He dodged the cop, side-stepped a fire hose, and made his way to a group of three men staring at the charred building.

“Do any of you know Adam Langston? About five-foot-eight, blond, slender? Do you remember seeing him?” Josh cursed himself for not bringing a photo of Adam.

One man coughed and shook his head. The two others exchanged a look and shrugged.

Josh bit down on his anxiety and tried again. “I saw ambulances. Was anyone seriously hurt?”

The first man cleared his throat. “Yeah, the guys who started it are bad off. Serves ‘em right. Drunken assholes set off some firecrackers inside.”

One of the others took up the story. “It sure spread fast. People got trampled trying to get out the door. Don’t know about your guy, though.” The man shook his head and gazed at the bar. “Place ain’t gonna be the same.”

Josh tossed a “thank you” over his shoulder and headed for the cop, grabbing the man’s arm to get his attention. “Can you tell me where the injured were taken?”

The cop grimaced. “You another reporter?”

“No! My friend was here tonight. I’m trying to find him. He’s five-eight and blond. Did you see him?”

“Sorry—I don’t remember him. Most of the injured were transported to Memorial Hospital. The really bad ones went to the trauma unit at Mount Sinai.”

“Okay, thanks.” Josh ran back to the car and drove toward Memorial. He’d start there, hoping if Adam was injured, it wasn’t serious.

Josh’s chest tightened the whole way to the hospital. Must have inhaled some of the smoke. He sailed into a spot in visitor’s parking and ran for the emergency room.

It was chaos. The waiting room was jammed with the walking wounded fortunate enough not to need immediate treatment. Josh circulated through them, checking each soot-stained face for the one he loved. And he did love Adam with all his heart. The thought of finding him burned or broken had his gut twisting into knots. He should have gone out earlier and tracked him down. If he had, Adam would be home safe. Pissed off, but safe.

Josh finished checking everyone in the crowd. Adam wasn’t in the waiting room. And that meant he was undergoing treatment. He made his way to the reception desk and leaned over it to get the attention of the harried nurse processing forms, directing patients, and talking on the phone. “Excuse me? Excuse me, I need to know if Adam Langston was brought here.”

She ignored him.

“Ma’am. Please could you just check for me?”

She finished the phone call and looked up at him. “What is it?”

“I need to know if Adam Langston was brought here.”

“Are you family?”

“No. He’s my…well, he’s my friend.”

“Do you have a signed power of attorney?”

“No.”

She shook her head, dismissing him. “Medical information is not released except to family or legal representatives.”

“You don’t understand—we live together. I have to know if he’s here.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Hospital policy.” She looked beyond him and called, “Next.”

Josh stood there stunned until the next patient jostled him out of the way. Pushing his way back through the milling crowd, he climbed up on an end table and shouted over the din, “Everyone, please listen to me. I need your help. I need to know if Adam Langston was hurt. Did anyone here see Adam tonight?”

A murmur went through the crowd, and a few responses were shouted back. “Don’t know him.” “Might be in with the docs.” Even one or two comments like, “Is he cute?” or “Is he available?” Josh’s heart sank.

The noise level in the room rose again, and Josh collapsed onto the table, covering his face with his hands. He wanted to howl in frustration, smash every stick of ugly furniture in the room. All these people, and no one knew anything? His chest ached as he gulped in air. Why couldn’t he find Adam?

A shaky voice interrupted his silent breakdown. “Excuse me?”

Josh looked up to see a middle-aged woman leaning heavily on the arm of a tall black man. Both were wearing T-shirts that read “Corrigan’s Bar & Grill.” She asked, “You the one looking for Adam?”

Josh’s heartbeat quickened as hope reignited. “Yes. Yes, I am.” He needed to hear her information that second, but she was trembling so badly. He got up and said, “Please, sit here.”

The black man nodded his approval as he helped the woman ease onto the end table.

Josh bit his tongue until she got settled. Then he asked, “Did you see Adam at the bar?”

The woman nodded. “He came in late afternoon, hurting pretty bad.” Her lips thinned. “Your fault, I take it?”

Josh had a vivid image of Adam drinking alone, trying to drown the hurt Josh had caused him. He pushed it aside—he had no time to waste with guilt. “Look, it was a misunderstanding. Please, just tell me what you know.”

She nodded. “He was doing a good job of getting liquored up. I was worried about him, so I called Reggie. They used to be quite a thing. And since Adam showed up at the bar alone, I thought he might be looking for a reunion.”

Josh’s jealousy flared, but he smothered it. Would this woman ever get to the point? “Was Adam there when the fire happened?”

“No. He and Reggie left a good hour before. Don’t know where they went, though. But you should talk to Reggie. Adam was pretty well drunk by then.”

The squeezing in his chest let loose like a pressure valve had released. He wanted to sing or dance or hug the woman. Thank God! Adam was not lying injured in a hospital room or at the trauma center. He was safe. With his ex. The jubilant relief suddenly dried up. Damn it—Adam was with his ex.

Josh was going to have to find Reggie and call a halt to whatever the sleaze-bag was doing. Adam belonged at Josh’s side. No one else’s. He asked the woman, “Do you know where Reggie lives?”

She shook her head, but the black man spoke up. “Reggie bought himself a condo in that new development on Miller Road. Don’t know the number, but he’s always gabbing about how he’s got a view of the lake.”

Josh thanked them both and marched out of the hospital, a fresh wave of energy flowing through him. He had a condo to find and a boyfriend to rescue. Boyfriend. Was that what Adam was to him? No. Much more. Adam was everything. And it was time that Josh, along with the rest of the world, recognized that fact.