Page 51 of His Worst Crime

The nurse was back and she undid the restraints from his wrists.

“We didn’t want you harming yourself while you were unconscious,” she murmured, “or pulling out the drip.”

At the sound of her voice, Ramon awoke with a start, shook his head and looked around. Then his eyes met Davey’s and he uncoiled from his armchair in one smooth motion and was suddenly there, his face hovering inches above Davey’s.

“Hola, Davey,” he breathed, and his fingers were in Davey’s hair, stroking his face.

His breath smelled like Ramon… beautifully, overwhelmingly so, that slightly acidic masculine tang Davey had missed so badly for so long. They smiled at each other.

“Hola,” Davey whispered. “Was our Dad here?” He had asked in English, without thinking.

Ramon nodded. “He was… is,” he said, also in English. “He’s gone back to his hotel to sleep. He was exhausted.”

Davey nodded.

“How’d he…?” But he didn’t know what he wanted to ask. He had so many questions. The voice in his head, reading to him… It’d been his Dad for real. Something troubled him, not just how he’d come to Catalonia, but… but… “He’s off the drink, is he?”

Ramon nodded. “Seems so. For now.”

“Miracles never cease.”

“He did it for you. He came over here for you.”

Our Dad knocking off the drink for one of his sons? Davey couldn’t credit it, but he’d give him the benefit of the doubt. That wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, or even think about, though. Ramon was here with him, and he didn’t want to be thinking about his Dad.

But then the blond nurse came back in, and she was shooing Ramon out of the room.

“Enough now, he needs to rest,” she was saying to him in Catalan.

“OK, thanks, Mariona, I’m going, I’m going.”

But he slipped under her guard and planted a quick kiss on Davey’s lips. And then he was gone. Davey was left just with the warm softness of his lips, like the impression of a feather on the air. And his masculine scent, fading already. But his headache was back, and as soon as he closed his eyes, he began drifting back into sleep. But confess, he would. He needed to confess.

Ramon was sitting outside the ICU room when Simon Howard appeared. He was looking better for a night’s sleep, and more so for having gone almost seven days now without a drink. They greeted each other warily as they had for the last week, while they’d both been accompanying Davey, taking turns to read to him from the older Howard’s dog-eared copy of David Copperfield.

“He’s woken up.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant. How is he?”

“Confused. Didn’t know where he was. Mariona’s just kicked me out. Wants him to rest some more.”

“Can I see him?”

“You can try your luck. Being immediate family, she may let you.”

Davey’s father nodded and went into the room. While he was gone, Ramon thought about Davey. He had him back again. Davey had returned. But was he the same? Both Saïd and Mariona had warned him that recovery from a coma, even a very short one, could take months. His memory might be affected, he could suffer from PTSD, depression, difficulties concentrating, and anxiety. Even after months or years, he might not fully recover to where he was before. Ramon had thought about all this in the hours while he was sitting beside Davey’s bed. Was he prepared to take it on? He was, and he would if Davey would let him.

He thought about his job. They’d closed the investigation after Owen’s confession, so Davey was no longer a person of interest, wanted in connection to the assault. He’d talked to Simon Howard about whether he would press charges against his son, Owen, and the man seemed to be in two minds. At the moment, all he wanted was to see his younger son get better. Perhaps with time he’d be able to forgive the older one. No doubt the North Yorkshire Police had pressed charges, but Ramon hadn’t been following any of that. Jaume, his partner, had thankfully shouldered all his ongoing police business, taking up the slack and giving him time to spend here. These days, Ramon had only left the hospital to exercise Estel and to sleep. The feisty gelding was almost ready to get back into work, and Ramon missed riding patrol. But if Davey needed him, what would he do? He could take a leave of absence from the force, and look after Davey down at his farm. That’s what he wanted to do, if Davey was keen. Or would his father want to take him back to Ravenscragg?

Simon Howard came out.

“I spoke to him briefly,” he said. “Yes, he’s confused. But he remembers us reading David Copperfield to him, so it must have done some good. He’s asking for you.”

Ramon was already on his feet, heading into the ICU ward. He knew Simon Howard was watching him strangely, wondering why his son had this close connection to a foreign cop. But he had purposely avoided talking about it. That was a conversation they’d have to have another day, one in which Davey could speak for himself, and decide how much he wanted to tell his dad.

In the room, Davey was sitting up in his bed, looking much better.

“Hey,” he whispered, crossing to the bed, his fingers on one hand immediately seeking David’s blond hair and tousling it as he kissed him, while his other hand reached for Davey’s. “How are you feeling?”