The Magic in Your Touch by Sara Bell

The Magic in Your Touch

Nathan Morris stretched in a useless effort to loosen his knotted back muscles. Hours of examining patients and filling out the mountains of paperwork mandatory to a fledgling medical practice had taken their toll. His partner in the practice, Amy Vaughn, did more than her share, but after watching her work three fourteen hour days in a row, Nathan finally insisted she take a couple of days off. He kidded her about her husband, Mike, forgetting what she looked like. In reality, though, he envied her the security of home and family. The closest he had come to marriage was seven years ago, during his last year of college just before medical school. His first mistake had been falling for a guy who wasn't strong enough to stand up to his parents about what clothes to wear, much less about his sexuality. His second mistake had been believing that his love would be enough to convince Rick to leave it all behind, if necessary, so the two of them could have a life together. All it took was the threat of loosing his hefty trust fund to send Rick crawling home to mommy and daddy.

Nathan shook himself out of the past and glanced at the clock. It was well after six and already dark. Autumn in Reed, Illinois was going to take some getting used to. Having been raised in the south, Nathan was still adjusting to the cooler temperatures and shorter days, but anything was better than the long hours spent watching premature infants fight to rid themselves of the addictions to crack and heroin so generously passed on to them by their mothers. Three years of residency in Atlanta Northern Hospital's Neonatal Intensive Care Unit had been almost more than Nate could take. When the opportunity to open a practice in Reed came up, he didn't even have to stop and think about it. The fact that Amy, his best friend since the third grade, had decided to move up here with him was just a bonus, as was Reed's reputation for being a "gay friendly" town. Since Nathan had only been in Reed a grand total of three months, he had yet to test that theory. The only people he saw on a regular basis were his patients, and he hardly thought "Hi, I'm Dr. Morris and I have a preference for penises" an appropriate way to start a conversation.

Nathan gathered up the last of the day's paperwork and headed toward the front of the converted Victorian cottage that he and Amy used as offices. He winced at the thought of going home, but he had little choice. His apartment wasn't exactly homey, but it was better than sleeping on one of the exam tables. He turned out all the lights and grabbed his keys. Before he went out the door, he set the alarm and punched his code into the keypad. Even though Reed was a small town, it was close enough to Chicago that someone might conceivably break-in hoping to find drugs or prescription pads. He fit his key into the deadbolt and was just about to turn it when he felt a blinding pain on the right side of his head.

"You're a dead man, faggot. Best you go back where you came from." The voice was little more than a harsh whisper, but to Nathan the words might as well have been screamed from the top of the Reed County Courthouse. From the corner of his eye, Nate saw his attacker raise whatever object he held, ready to strike again. Fighting waves of dizziness and nausea, and knowing he was too dazed by the blow to fight back, he used what strength he had left to open the still unlocked door and trip the alarm. The shrill beep caused his assailant to run just as Nathan fell to the ground. He was unconscious before he hit the porch.

* * *

His first thought when he woke up on one of his own exam tables was that he must have decided to sleep at the office, after all. His next thought was that he must have gotten drunk and picked up one hell of a hang over before he did so. He tried to move, but a set of soft yet strong hands stopped him.

"Oh no you don't, buster. I have not spent the past twenty minutes trying to wake you just to see you get up too soon and black out again. As it is, I'm still deciding whether or not to pack you into an ambulance and send you to Chicago for an MRI."

Nathan smiled in spite of himself. "I'm fine, Amy. You know my head is the hardest part of my body." He gave her a mock leer. "Most of the time, anyway."