Love On Life Support

Love on Life Support

by

John Charles

Copyright 2015

Smashwords Edition

Copyright and Legal Notice:

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 John Charles. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Visit us on the Web! www.johncharlesbooks.com

Follow me on Twitter

Friend me on Goodreads

Like me on Facebook

ISBN 978-1-882598-11-3

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author, third-party websites, or their content.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Note From The Author

Other John Charles Books

Chapter 1

Matthew

The Emergency Room doors whooshed open as we raced in. I was pushing the gurney and reciting vitals. Seventeen or eighteen year old white male, rapid pulse at 155, blood pressure 90 over 62, shallow breathing, apparent OD on E or Thrill. One IV pushed, second running now.

On nights like this, we worked on adrenaline. We had three calls already and we were barely mid-shift. The first two didn't require transport to the ER, this one clearly did. Why bright, young kids needed to test their metal with drugs was beyond me, but they always did. And this boy would be lucky to come out of it with his brain intact.

E is bad enough, but this new mix called Thrill is worse than anything I've ever seen - and I've seen it all.

We rolled the gurney into the open ER bay and began the transfer to the ER bed. On three, said the ER doctor. One, two, three. We completed the transfer and nurses began cutting off his clothes. Only then did I look up to see the ER doctor. Trent?

At first, he didn't recognize my face, then, in the midst of the controlled chaos of the ER, he smiled. His brown eyes and dirty blond hair gave him the surfer look. His smile was addictive. Matthew, it's been a long time. That's all he said before turning his attention back to the young man dying on his watch.

My partner Pat and I pulled our gurney to the clean up area on the side of the ER. We made quick work of disposing the paper covers and used IV bag in the hazmat bin. Restocking the supplies we needed for the balance of the shift, we rolled the gurney out the sliding doors to our ambulance. Thus was our routine. We had done this exact same thing every shift for the past seven years.

Pat was my rookie training partner, he showed me how to do things, never got upset, and always had praise for me even when I fucked up. He frequently referred to me as his third kid since I was only a few years older than his twins were. You'll learn Matthew. Just stay calm and remember what you are doing, he told me every night. We had each other's backs and became solid friends.

When we had the gurney and supplies stored in the ambulance, Pat took the driver's seat. Early on, I accepted that Pat liked to drive and I became the navigator. It worked out well for both of us, initially allowing me to review the case with him or to study for an upcoming test. Eventually it became routine. You know him? he asked pointing back to the ER.

We went to the same high school. I knew him but we were not really friends or anything. The last time I saw Trent was on graduation day. He wore rainbow ribbons on his cap and gown, clearly out and proud. When someone tried to bully or humiliate him, because he was gay, he always threw it back in their faces.

Is he gay? My attention was pulled back at Pat's question. I smiled and nodded. I lusted over Trent every time I saw him.

Oh yeah he is definitely gay. He made it a known fact in high school. He wore a rainbow ribbon on his shirt, had rainbow covers for his books, and was proud that he was gay. The few who tried to bully him failed miserably.

Trent was a nerd, but knew how to take care of his body as well as his mind. When one of our gym teachers suggested he try out for the gymnastics team, he jumped at the opportunity. He not only made the team, he brought it to the state finals. I'm not surprised he became an ER doctor. He always bragged that he would and he obviously did.

I was envious of Trent. Not that he was gay, but that he was out and let no one bully him for it. Me? I was so deep in the closet that I couldn't see the door beyond the clothes. My very life depended on staying there and I knew it.

When I was sixteen, my older sister Meredith quietly came into my room one night, sat on my bed, and put her hand on mine. I put the book I was reading down on my lap. Our rooms were connected by a shared bathroom. As kids, we loved the idea of walking into each other's rooms freely. As I got older and wanted some privacy, the idea was not as ideal for me. After one embarrassing evening when Meredith walked in while I was jerking off, she learned to knock gently at the door before entering. It didn't stop her, but gave me time to cover up. I know, she said as she held my hand.

She saw the fright in my eyes, and pulled me into a tight hug. Then sitting up again, she said, Don't you dare come out until you have finished college. If you do, he, pointing to the door as if we both knew she meant our father, will throw you out with the shirt on your back.

I knew she was right. Our father was a bigoted, homophobic bastard. He ruled with an iron fist, made sure we all knew his feelings about everything, and made sure we toed the line - his line. Why my mother married him was the constant question that I never voiced.

Meredith's advice was well heeded. I stayed entrenched in the closet, played football even though I hated the game, and made it look like I was a straight macho kid. Actually, I looked the part so it was not hard to pull off. People often called me The Pit-bull due to my short muscular stature.

I enjoyed working out and felt the pride of accomplishment as my body became solid muscle. The difficulty came in the locker room after games. We always kidded and joked around. Guys were naked or strutting around with a towel over their shoulders. It was a macho thing to show off your body. It was also a macho thing to show off your cock and balls to anyone who would take notice. Some of my teammates were impressively hung, others not so much. I was somewhere between the haves and have not's, so it didn't bother me. I felt sorry for the guys who lost that contest as they often became the butt of jokes and teasing. I managed to keep from throwing wood and made it through that test of will power unscathed.

Luckily I dormed in college and was able to test the waters without fear of my father finding out. Wow, once my toes got wet, I dove in headfirst and never looked back. I lived on a dotted line between the gay and straight worlds to keep my father at bay. It worked.

The rest of our shift was less chaotic; several car mishaps, one standby at a house fire and a couple of family disputes, which resulted in minor injuries to one or both partners. I was exhausted by the end of our shift and wanted a hot shower and sleep. What do you have planned today? I asked Pat as he shed his work uniform.

It's a school day so Cathy and the kids will be gone by the time I get there. I was hoping to sleep a few hours then work on the bike before everyone gets home.

You and that bike; you do know that Cathy will never allow you to ride it, so why continue the charade? Pat purchased a motorcycle two years ago from one of the firemen. It was an older model that needed a lot of work so he got it cheap. When he brought it home, Cathy, his wife, told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would not be riding it anytime soon. She had heard the horror stories about people injured in cycle accidents and put her foot down. Play with it as much as you want, but don't ever take it off the property. I want you in one piece, not a vegetable with a smashed head from an accident.

A man can dream, can't he? I laughed knowing his dreams were just that - dreams. Cathy would never let him ride the thing and Pat would never do it against her wishes. We showered, cleaned up our bunks and left the firehouse. The sun was rising and the sky looked clear. This was going to be a great day.

I love my job, always wanted to be a paramedic, and wouldn't want to do