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    Sight Unseen
    Sight Unseen
    Sight Unseen
    Ebook282 pages4 hours

    Sight Unseen

    By Susan Mac Nicol

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    About this ebook

    BLINDSIDED

    SoCal natives, Nate and Cody have been friends since childhood. Both knew they were different—and the same. At seventeen, a stolen weekend in the Florida Keys drove their connection deeper and hotter than either could imagine. They were meant to be together. Then, for reasons only Nate knows, suddenly they weren’t.

    They’re still friends. Best friends. But they’ve moved on and found other partners. The yearning remains, however, despite the long-ago secret that drove them apart, and when tragedy strikes, both men find themselves in the dark. They must grope their way back to who and what they are...which they will find in each other’s arms. Sometimes, losing one’s sight can open one’s eyes—and heart.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBoroughs Publishing Group
    Release dateJan 26, 2017
    ISBN9781944262556
    Sight Unseen
    Author

    Susan Mac Nicol

    'The Official Stuff' Susan writes steamy, sexy, and fun contemporary romance stories, some suspenseful, some gritty and dark, and she hopes, always entertaining. She’s also Editor-in-Chief at Divine Magazine, an online LGBTQ e-zine, and a member of The Society of Authors, the Writers Guild of Great Britain, and the Authors Guild in the US. Susan is also an award-winning screenplay writer, with scripts based on two of her own published works. Sight Unseen has garnered no less than five awards to date, and her TV pilot, Reel Life, based on her debut novel, Cassandra by Starlight, was also a winner at the Oaxaca Film Fest.. 'The Unofficial Stuff' Susan loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man-crush Adam Lambert), walks in the countryside, a good G and T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Silent Witness. Her chequered past includes stories like being mistaken for a prostitute in the city of Johannesburg, being chased by a rhino on a dusty Kenyan road, getting kicked out of a youth club for being a bad influence (she encouraged free thinking), and having an aunt who was engaged to Cliff Richard. Connect with Susan: website: authorsusanmacnicol.com facebook: Author-Susan-Mac-Nicol twitter: SusanMacNicol7 instagram: susiemax77 linkedin: susanmacnicol

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      Book preview

      Sight Unseen - Susan Mac Nicol

      BLINDSIDED

      SoCal natives, Nate and Cody have been friends since childhood. Both knew they were different—and the same. At seventeen, a stolen weekend in the Florida Keys drove their connection deeper and hotter than either could imagine. They were meant to be together. Then, for reasons only Nate knows, suddenly they weren’t.

      They’re still friends. Best friends. But they’ve moved on and found other partners. The yearning remains, however, despite the long-ago secret that drove them apart, and when tragedy strikes, both men find themselves in the dark. They must grope their way back to who and what they are…which they will find in each other’s arms. Sometimes, losing one’s sight can open one’s eyes—and heart.

      SIGHT UNSEEN

      Susan Mac Nicol

      with Nicholas Downs

      www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

      PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

      SIGHT UNSEEN

      Copyright © 2017 Susan Elaine Mac Nicol

      Smashwords Edition

      All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

      ISBN 978-1-944262-55-6

      E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

      www.gopublished.com

      This book is for all those people out there who get through the day with a smile despite their lack of one of their five senses. It’s for those who take this in their stride and don’t let it become WHO they are, but only a small part of them. It’s to those people who are able to do anything their spirit wants them to do, and who don’t let this lack deter them. I salute each and every one of you—your tenacity is a breath of fresh air in an often jaded world.

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      A friend called Lynsey helped me a lot with this book, giving me her witty insight into what it’s like to be one of those visually impaired individuals, yet who still manages to become a talented pole dancer and win awards for her performance. Just goes to show you can achieve anything you want with determination and guts.

      Of course, without Nicholas Downs, this book wouldn’t have been written. His original screenplay fanned the elements of this story to turn into a full-blown fire. Thanks for your faith in me, Nicholas, to write this story, and may we go on to take this idea even further.

      Thanks also to John from the Headway organization in Cambridgeshire for his time in helping me with some questions and sending me some material to make my research easier. You can see the work this organization does here: www.headway.org.uk.

      CONTENTS

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Author’s Note

      About the Author

      Connect with Susan

      Also by Susan Mac Nicol

      SIGHT UNSEEN

      Chapter 1

      Nate

      Beep. Beep. Beep. Whirr. Hiss. Laughter and low voices. For a split second on waking, I imagined myself in some alternate universe, like a scene from a Wile E. Coyote cartoon where the sound effects were magnified for dramatic effect.

      The clamor was unnerving and unfamiliar. I tried to sit up, got halfway then fell back against stiff, starched pillows, definitely not luxurious and soft with the scent of sex and male vanity: Jon’s Paco Rabanne or my Artisan.

      My hip and left side ached, and something unfamiliar tugged at my wrist, causing a spike of pain. The room was black, no light or shadows anywhere.

      What the hell? My question stuck and slurred from a bad case of Sahara dry mouth. I reached around with my good hand to find something familiar. My alarm clock at the side of our bed or the metal table lamp would go a long way to reassure me, and take away this feeling of being a stranger in a strange land. Groping, I managed to knock something off the cold surface of what was probably a bedside unit. Whatever it was fell to the floor with a resounding clatter.

      My breathing sped up, the fear in my chest swelled like a sponge dropped in water. The beeping got louder, more strident.

      Over the turmoil in my head, there was the soft shuffle of footsteps coming nearer. A strong hand tried to push me back onto the pillows as a female voice spoke soothingly. Please relax, Mr. Powell. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital. Her hands stroked my arms and I flailed wildly while trying to make sense of it all.

      Hospital? How can I be in the hospital? I don’t remember anything happening to me. Where am I, who are you? Where’s Jon? Cody? Let me get up— Surely my boyfriend or best friend would tell me what the fuck was going on.

      Mr. Powell. This tone was brisk, sharper and male. Nurse Sandra is trying to help you. You’ve been out of it for a while. Lie back and try to calm down and I’ll explain it to you. But I need you to calm down, we don’t need any more damage being done. There was a muted conversation I couldn’t make out as I pushed their hands away, trying to get these people from encroaching on my space.

      Fuck off, will you. Leave me alone, let me get up and see what’s going on. Why can’t I see anything? What do you mean damage? What have you done to me?

      My heart hammered against my chest, my breathing became even more erratic and when something warm flooded into my veins, a sense of peace and darkness overtook me and I spiraled down back into whatever hell I’d come from.

      I was happy to leave. Where I was going had to be better than the world I faced while conscious.

      ***

      Nate, can you hear me? It’s Jon. I’m here. Are you awake? Can you see me? Warm hands caressed my face as I dragged myself up from sleep tainted with fuzzy thoughts. My head was muggy, pounding and it was still dark.

      I groaned and reached out to the voice beside me. Jon? I needed my lover’s comforting and familiar touch.

      Yeah, Nate, it’s me. The doctor says you went a bit ballistic earlier so they gave you something to calm you down. It will make you feel a bit drowsy, maybe a bit sick. If you feel like vomiting, tell me and I’ll call the nurse.

      His hands were on mine, soft and soothing.

      I sighed. Okay. Why is there a doctor involved? What happened to me?

      His silence made my skin prickle.

      Jon, you still there? Stupid question. I could still feel his hand in mine but I couldn’t see anything.

      Finally, he said, I’m here. You don’t remember anything about the accident or coming to the hospital two days ago? Can you see me?

      I shook my head slowly and tried to wave my right hand toward his voice, but a stinging sensation zinged through my veins. A strong grip stayed my arm.

      Nate, you have a drip in your hand. Don’t pull it loose like last time or the nurse will have to plug you back in. Just keep still and I’ll try to explain.

      Why can’t I see? Panic spiralled down my spine. What day is it? What do you mean, two days ago?

      It’s Sunday, June twelfth, Nate. Do you remember being at the Gravity Awards ceremony Friday night?

      I nodded and wished I hadn’t as my brain exploded. I remember—some of it. Vague memories swam around my brain of being up on stage accepting an award then the open-to-the-public after-party. I had a hazy recollection of drinking alcohol, gyrating on a dance floor and having a vicious argument with Jon’s ex-boyfriend who’d appeared to be on a mission to win Jon back.

      We argued about Caleb touching you all the time, I croaked through my ever-present parched throat. I remember that asshole’s face being in mine and wanting to punch it. Someone huffed loudly and I looked across the room in that direction.

      Was my head damaged? Have I got bandages over my eyes? Is that why I can’t see anything?

      There was a hesitation then Jon spoke again

      Yes, you suffered a blow to the back of your head.

      I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God. I thought I’d gone blind. Vaguely I remembered white light, flashes of pain and murmured words of comfort. I shivered.

      Jon breath hitched and his hand tightened in mine. He whispered something I thought sounded like, Oh God, this is the worst thing ever to whoever else was in the room, and I squinted in that direction.

      Did someone hit me? Was I mugged?

      Jon cleared his throat. There was more low whispering between him and the mystery person, but it was gone before I could comment on it. No, you weren’t mugged. Do you remember going for a run after the taxi dropped us off at home?

      I frowned. I think so. I remember changing and going out on the road. The memory I had was the smell of sweat, hearing a night bird call out above me in the trees, the sensation of light behind me, and then nothing.

      I went for a run after that stupid argument we had when we got home, I said faintly. That’s about it. Nothing else.

      A chair scraped closer, the sound of it making me wince. Jon’s aftershave wafted into my nostrils as he leaned in. You were hit by a car. It veered off the road, clipped your left side and sent you rolling down into the ravine. You rolled quite a way before you stopped.

      That explained the stabbing ache in my side and back. So what about my head? Did I knock myself out?

      Yeah. Your head bashed into a rock. You were out cold when the nine-one-one call came in. The driver had the decency to call and report the accident but didn’t leave any details. She did it from the phone booth about five miles down the road. The police have no idea who she was.

      I digested the information then asked, So I damaged my hip and my head and the bandages are doing what? Protecting my eyes, covering up a wound?

      Ignoring the gasps from Jon and the unknown someone in the room, I reached up with my left hand and felt for the bandage. A chair scraped back and I heard Jon mutter, his voice sounding tight, like he couldn’t speak. I can’t do this. I can’t. Call the doctor, he’ll need to tell him.

      Confusion swirled in my already muddled brain. Um, is this some special bandage, because all I feel is skin and hair and eyelids. I don’t feel any bandage over my eyes. What the hell? Panic rose again.

      Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?

      I’m sorry, Nate, I can’t. The doctor’s here now, he’s going to explain it all. I’m going to get some air. Come with me, please. Jon’s strained voice echoed away from me and back into the room. At first I thought he was talking to me, but when I tried to get up, a strong arm restrained me.

      Your partner has left with his friend. I think he needs some time alone. I’m Doctor Malik. I’ll explain, and answer your questions. Please try to stay calm. I don’t want to have to sedate you again.

      I nodded. I would have agreed to almost anything at this stage to hear what the hell was happening. I drew in heaving, awkward gasps, thinking dimly my heart might burst with from fear. As long as you tell me straight, I managed to get out. No bullshit. I need to know.

      Ten minutes later I regretted that request. My world had fallen apart. Life as I knew it was over and I had no idea how I was supposed to make it through. Patient yet deadly phrases transformed the world as I’d known it to one of despair and desolation.

      Damage to occipital lobe. Trauma to the back of the head. Potential permanent blindness. More tests. I’m so sorry. We’d hoped it wouldn’t be that serious, that we’d have better news for you…

      After what seemed like an eternity of breath-stealing disbelief while my heart pounded like an angry drum, I shut the doctor’s voice out and sank back, waiting for the drowsy to turn into sleep.

      I welcomed the darkness of slumber to act as a balm as much as the thought of my new enduring darkness terrified me to death.

      Perhaps when I woke, it would all have been a dream and I could see the world again. When I woke up, Jon or Cody would no doubt tell me it had all been a nightmare and we’d laugh about it.

      Until then, I’d sleep.

      Chapter 2

      Cody

      I shouldn’t wish I was lying curled there beside Nate, smoothing away the frown lines from his forehead, perhaps giving him some measure of comfort.

      Unfortunately, as the man who was crazy in love with his best friend, my thoughts tended to stray to places they shouldn’t. It was the sad story of my life. Well, at least from when I’d been fifteen and realized Nate did things for me no one else ever had.

      I tucked a curl of stray dark lock of hair behind Nate’s ear, and shifted irritably on the plastic chair beside the hospital bed in the private room. At six-three, a few inches taller than Nate, I found the chair not particularly comfortable. I’d flown in from Rome earlier this morning, cutting short my attendance at the art show I’d set up.

      Getting back to Nate had been my priority the minute I’d heard of his accident a day ago. I was thankful Jon had chosen to tell me the news, albeit a little late, and begrudgingly since I knew how he felt about me.

      I’d been filled in on the basics of Nate’s condition and was devastated at the thought he might lose his sight permanently. Not my Nate, my irascible, moody, generous and passionate best friend. The Nate whose hands sculpted magnificent works of art enjoyed the world over.

      Apparently, there was still some hope it might be temporary, but reading between the lines, that hope was bleak.

      I sold all your pieces, I murmured, hoping he could hear me. I owned an art gallery in L.A. called Artisana, and Nate’s pieces were always in demand. They’re desperate for more, so when you’re up and about, bud, I need you to get busy. I nudged him softly. Hey, maybe you can wake up now and we’ll talk about it.

      The doctor had told me Nate was resting well. It had been half a day since they’d delivered the life-changing news, and Nate had decided to sleep most of that time away. I understood. It must have broken him. At least in sleep he didn’t have to deal with all the ramifications of knowing what his future held.

      I tried to smooth away the creases on his forehead. His eyes moved restlessly in his sleep and I shushed him softly. You’ve got a long road ahead of you. And I promise I’ll be there every step of the way.

      We’d been inseparable since we’d met at a school swim event when we were eight. Nate had knocked me into the pool in his rush to get to the podium for his race. He’d immediately dived in to save me, even though I was probably the better swimmer. Seeing that determined, water-flecked face with eyes the color of warm chestnuts, and the unruly lock of dark hair falling over his broad forehead, I’d been lost. To this day, Nate drew people into his orbit with his smile, warmth and determination.

      It was also the reason why, at seventeen, during one long weekend we’d planned on fishing in the Florida Keys, our friendship had turned into something else. Something heated, intimate and real. Memories of that time warmed my body, bringing back that which we’d both agreed never to talk about. Moans, groans, flesh against flesh and the slow slide of one cock against another.

      I sighed. Neither of us talked about that time. Ever. It was like Voldemort, something about which we could never speak.

      To Nate, that weekend had only been about sex and as soon as it had ended, so had my hopes of anything deeper. We hadn’t exchanged undying vows of love or anything; we hadn’t progressed that far, and to his credit, he’d been honest with me. We were both young, off to college, and he’d wanted to be able to pursue his sexuality freely. But it was more than us being too young to commit. After that weekend, Nate had withdrawn, distancing himself, and I’d had to deal with losing hope, and I forced myself to get on with my life.

      After college, we reunited as best friends. As if time hadn’t passed, and as if that amazing weekend had never happened.

      The old familiar ache of longing started in my chest and I pushed it away. Thinking there’d ever be anything more between us was emotional suicide.

      No time for that sort of thinking, is there, Clayman? I muttered.

      Clayman had been Nate’s boyhood nickname, coined when he’d begun to fashion small animals out of the clay-like mud in the river winding through the fields down the road from where we’d lived.

      Beneath my palm Nate’s hands moved on the white coverlet, forever in motion like the man himself when he sculpted. His long fingers twitched and I could still see traces of the dark materials he sculpted with under his nails. No matter what he did, he could never seem to get rid of the evidence of his genius and his passion.

      Art had always been one of the things cementing us. I had a love of art and the business acumen to recognize what would sell, but I had no discernible talent for creating it. I had a BA in Fine Art from CalArts in Valencia and had scraped through. Nate had aced his studies, graduating top of his class at the California College of the Arts in Oakland. Those four years apart had been tough, and while we’d gotten together from time to time, I’d wished it could have been more, but Nate kept his distance. To this day, I didn’t know why.

      I gazed at a face I adored, and knew better than my own. Nate’s freckles stood out against his pale cheeks, long eyelashes resting against the skin. His mouth was slightly parted, as if he was on the verge of saying something. Soft exhalations of air echoed in the quiet room.

      Under the covers, Nate’s lean body twisted, and he muttered something I couldn’t make out. As I leaned over to hear what he was saying, there was a noise behind me; I turned and saw Jon and Caleb staring at me. They looked in sync in a way Nate and Jon had never been.

      Caleb, dark, olive-skinned and broad-shouldered, was a stunning contrast to Jon’s blond, tanned, boy-next-door look.

      I sighed. I might not like Caleb but I could see his appeal.

      The challenging look on his face was to be expected as he stood close to Jon, who moved over to Nate and placed a hand on his chest. Not protective, more possessive.

      When did you get here? I thought you were abroad. Jon fussed around Nate’s covers, tucking them around his body. I didn’t think you’d make it here that quickly.

      I flew in a few hours ago from Rome, came straight here. A friend at the airline owed me a favor.

      Caleb raised one eyebrow. Really, you were in Rome and got on a plane dressed like that? He motioned in my direction.

      Even in these circumstances, I grinned. Caleb was such a clothes snob, as was Jon. I guess that’s what happened when you were both fashion models.

      Yep. Why, what’s wrong with faded blue jeans and a chambray shirt? And these flip-flops are comfortable.

      Caleb shuddered. God, Cody, you’re such a flower child. You should have lived in the sixties. Even your hair and face stubble suit the period.

      "The period? Bro, you sound like someone out of a cheesy historical novel. And what’s wrong with my hair?" Instinctively I raised a hand to the short ponytail at my nape.

      I hate to tell you but bleached-blond ponytails went out a long time ago. Caleb sneered.

      Jon stepped forward and touched Caleb’s arm. Stop being such a bitch, Caleb. This isn’t the time to debate what Cody looks like. There’s more important things to think about. He directed his gaze at Nate.

      While I appreciated Jon’s sentiments, I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. To be fair, he looked tired and stressed, and he was Nate’s significant other, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. And my bleached-blond hair was natural, colored so by sun and sea. Damn, he could check my pubes if he wanted confirmation. I’d whip them out right now.

      You had an art show, didn’t you? Is Rachel picking up the slack? Jon moved over to Nate’s side and stroked his arm softly.

      I drew my eyes away from the intimate gesture and nodded. Yeah, Rachel is holding the fort. She understands I needed to be here. Rachel Norman was the floor manager at my gallery, and more than capable of acting in my stead.

      Jon sighed. Thanks for coming. He’d be pleased to know you were here. It was said begrudgingly but it was said. That was something.

      He’s my best friend. Where else would I be?

      Caleb made a small groaning sound and I ignored it.

      So have his folks been told? Or are they pretending he never existed like they usually do? I glanced at Jon. That job had been left to him to do because there was no way on God’s green earth I wanted to speak to any of the toxic people who were Nate’s blood

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