Xion Island Zero Chapter 23 (and a cover)

Nash had a shower after work and stood by the bathroom sink with his shirt hanging open. A purpling bruise bloomed like a hydrangea across his ribs. The pain from the alley ate into him, and not just his body. It had scraped something old and festering to the surface.

He looked in the mirror. The swelling had gone down, and the angry graze covering one side of his face was red but clean. Leaning closer to the glass, he tugged his eyelid to check the damage under the bruising.

The bathroom light flickered. He ignored it. Then it danced again. Max didn’t like being ignored, and the cold tap came on, spraying icy water across his stomach and making him jump.

‘Go away,’ Nash muttered. He turned off the tap, and the plughole burped. It sounded like a sigh and a chuckle.

‘What do you want, Max?’

The mirror fogged at the top corner from a breath that wasn’t his.

Written in condensation, a faint word formed, one letter at a time.

‘Danger.’ The word faded.

The light stabilised, and the mirror cleared.

He rolled his eyes, wincing in pain. ‘You don’t say. You’re always on the backfoot, mate, but I appreciate the input.’

Kelvin tapped on the door and came in as Nash buttoned his shirt over the carnage. Kel put his arms around him, and Nash looked into the reflection and smiled. He never got sick of the contrast and beauty of the ebony body against his pale one.

‘They went for your face,’ Kelvin said finally. ‘Damn, it was personal.’

‘They knew I was a copper.’

‘Stop trying to protect me. We know it wasn’t just that.’

Nash kissed his arm. ‘I handled it.’ He turned, pulling a face as the bruise tugged. ‘It’s not the worst I’ve had. And I’m not that kid, hiding in toilets at the back of the station, anymore.’

‘I know. But don’t pretend this didn’t land. You were talking in your sleep.’

‘It wasn’t pretty, but don’t fuss. I’ll get over it.’ It wasn’t just what the boys did to him. It brought back every time he’d laughed along to hide himself.

Kelvin reached for his hand and held it.

‘It’s not like it was,’ Nash said. ‘Back then, it was awful. Homophobia wasn’t hidden. It was rife and came as standard issue along with the handcuffs and uniform. The locker room jokes and pub talk made me sick. Literally.’

There was something he hadn’t told Kelvin, but to heal, he had to confront his past. He couldn’t face him and talked into the mirror. That made it easier. The hatred had come rushing at him through the night, and he needed to throw it back where it belonged. If they were going to be married, he wanted Kelvin to know everything about him. It felt like the right time, but the words were difficult to say. ‘I became one of them, Kel.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I said terrible things, homophobic, racist things, and I made slurs against women. My first year on the job, I watched a sergeant tear a lad apart for wearing a ring on the wrong hand. And I learned to play their game.’

Kelvin watched him in the mirror. ‘You did what you had to do, babe.’

‘You didn’t pick up on what I said. Fitting in made me physically ill. This is hard for me to say, but I hid my feelings and did what they did. I used to walk into that station wearing armour. I’d smile, banter with them, talk bollocks. Anything but admit the truth. I hated them as much as they hated gays.’

‘I get it.’ Kelvin tightened his arm across Nash’s belly from behind, and when Nash groaned in pain, he shifted, trailing his hand across his chest in a gesture of love.

‘No, you don’t. You don’t get it at all.’ He paused to be able to say it.

‘I had bulimia, Kel.’

Nash was ashamed and dropped his head. ‘I gorged on unhealthy food and then stuck my fingers down my throat up to twenty times a day. There were days I blacked out, and my stomach ripped. I even vomited blood, but I couldn’t stop.’

Kelvin’s face registered shock, and when Nash lifted his eyes, he saw his partner smother the expression. Like his purging, once he started, the words came fast and kept coming like waves of acidic bile. ‘I battled with it for three years. The shame of the bulimia covered the disgrace of being gay, but I kept them both buried. They couldn’t smell it on me, but I was rotting inside and my first two fingers were my only defence against the system.’

Nash risked another look, and Kel’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘You’re okay, now, though. No lasting effects?’ he asked.

‘God, no. I’m fine. That was years ago. With private therapy, I recovered from the bulimia, and the force never found out. I hid it for my entire career, until I met you. And even then, coming out was hard. The echoes come back when I’m cornered.

‘I’m glad I gave you the strength to do it.’

Nash laughed and finally turned to take Kelvin in his arms. ‘Sorry, love. I wish I could give you the credit, but it was Sandy. He outed me.’

‘I can’t stand that snake.’

‘It’s done, babe, but I was dragged out against my will, emotionally naked and terrified.’ Nash thought how beautiful Kelvin was when he was angry.

‘He was a low-life piece of scum,’ Kelvin said. ‘When you pointed him out to me that day in the market, I was surprised. He seemed an odd choice.’

‘What can I say? I had no self-esteem and would have been with any freeloader who’d have me and keep my secret. It cost me dearly, but I just wanted to be loved.’

‘And now?’ Kelvin’s eyes were still hard, and all trace of his tears had gone. ‘I’m living in your house, am I just another freeloader?’

‘No, you know you aren’t. This is our house, and finding you is when I started living. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.’

Kelvin smiled and brushed his fingertips over Nash’s collarbone, sending a ripple up his arm. ‘Even with the bruised ribs?’

‘I’d take a dozen beatings rather than deny you. I was so scared of people finding out. But the team don’t give a toss. Their only problem is my shyness and grumpy attitude during intense cases.’

They brewed a pot of coffee and sat down while dinner cooked. The kitchen smelled like home, of onions, laughter, and love. He’d never thought of love having a scent before, but it does. The doorbell rang, and when Nash answered it, Molly kissed his cheek without waiting for an invitation and went into the kitchen, shouting over her shoulder. ‘You look like you lost a fight with your wardrobe,’ she laughed, eyeing his shirt. ‘But at least you’re upright. I was worried about you at work today. So here I am, a cross between a female Bacchus and Florence Nightingale.’

‘Lord help me,’ Nash said, grinning. ‘You’re a brave man, Danny.’

Danny shook his hand and came in wearing his work boots and the polite awkwardness of someone who didn’t know how to behave around a barge-in.

‘I brought you some grapes,’ Molly said, when they followed her through. She tossed a bag onto the coffee table. ‘Because I’m traditional, and what else would you bring to a battered old copper?’

‘Hey,’ Kelvin laughed. ‘That’s my battered old copper you’re talking about.’

‘Perfect,’ Nash said. ‘Thank you. Nothing says survivor of a hate crime like squashed fruit. At least it isn’t Lucozade. I hate the stuff and would have taken that personally.’

‘If sarcasm could be medicine, you’d be cured.’ Molly patted his face like a nurse bearing a grudge.

He resigned himself to the visit and glanced at the oven. If he quickly threw a salad together, there’d be plenty. He smiled at Kelvin over Molly’s head, and Kel winked. Nash was torn between being a gracious host and worrying about Danny’s work boots on his cream carpet in the lounge. Molly pulled a bottle of red from her bag. ‘I didn’t just bring grapes for the sick,’ she said. ‘I also have wine, because we’re not savages. Glasses, please, boss. Just three, Danny’s driving and I’m not sharing my Merlot with a lightweight.’

Xion Island Carrier is book 6 in the DCI Nash series. They're all on KU. Hush Hush Honeysuckle is Book One, and this is the Amazon link.

 

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