Breathless-kindle

by Alexander, R. G.

  He and Thoreau were…what? Family by marriage, yes—Younger was married to Thoreau’s brother Hugo—but Wyatt couldn’t really call them friends. Not with Fiona between them.

  So instead of even trying, you proposed and she flew away and left you with nothing. Good call.

  “Wyatt?” She said his name, her hand reaching for his again. “There’s something I think we should talk about.”

  “That’ll have to wait,” Rory said as he stepped into the room. Wyatt gave him a ferocious scowl—Fiona never had to wait—but then Brenna and a group of flustered nursing assistants followed him in with a large wheelchair. “Yeah, that’s right, you cranky bastard—these glorious angels are going to get you ready to visit Noah, so Fiona and I need to wait outside.”

  “Of course it’ll wait,” Fiona said brightly. “You need to see your brother, and he needs you too.”

  Ignoring his prickle of unease, Wyatt smiled at her and then gave Rory a nod of gratitude.

  His brother grinned. “Be a good boy for the nurses and maybe we do some racing down the hall later.”

  Wyatt had enough energy left to flip him off as he and Fiona left the room. But twenty minutes of humiliation, bare-ass fondling and catheter attaching later, and he was ready to pass out again.

  This fucking sucked.

  Brenna gave him a stern look as she arranged his IV bag on the chair’s pole. “You will keep that mask on at all times, and you won’t be able to get too close to your brother’s bed. The risk of infection is still an issue for both of you.”

  He nodded.

  “He’s been sleeping more than anything else, which is a good thing, since he’s in a lot of pain. You should be sleeping, too, but apparently you have a lot of pull around here, so we’re going down the hall for a visit.”

  Wyatt gave her an apologetic look and she squeezed his shoulder. “I know. You need to see him breathing with your own eyes. We all understand that. But keep it short for now. Just for a few more days, okay?”

  He nodded again and then the nurses scattered as Brenna wheeled him into the hall, where Rory and Fiona stood waiting.

  Rory pumped a fist in the air. “Freedom!”

  “Not now, Braveheart,” Fiona shushed him, but she was smiling at Wyatt, moving closer to push his now-sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did he give you any trouble, Brenna?”

  The nurse grinned. “I think we all saw more of his behind then he wanted us to, but otherwise he was a perfect gentleman.”

  “I leave you alone in a room full of pretty women for a few minutes…” Fiona said teasingly.

  “And we’re walking,” Rory said as Brenna pushed Wyatt’s chair down the hall.

  Wyatt closed his eyes. It was too bright in the hallway and he was tired.

  Noah. Then sleep.

  What did Fiona want to talk about?

  “Speaking of Brady, I’m thinking of applying for a job with our giant redhead and his zillionaire fiancé,” Rory said over Wyatt’s head.

  “Were we speaking of Brady?” Fiona asked, sounding amused. “And why would you want to work with them?”

  “Why not me? So far, he and Tanaka have hired your best friend’s husband and our cousin Matthew.”

  “And Jen’s man, Trick,” Fiona added. “And your brother James has done some work for them too.”

  “When he’s in town,” Rory agreed. “They don’t even have business cards and no one in the family is entirely sure what they do, but they’ve already built a small army. I’m starting to feel left out.”

  Wyatt could explain to Rory what they all did for Tanaka if he were allowed to speak. He tried to convey that with a sarcastically hooked eyebrow, but no one was looking at him at the moment.

  “I’m thinking me, Wyatt and Noah could quit our madcap but clearly dangerous life of first response and get into the spy-hacking-security-matchmaking game, or whatever it is they’re doing over there. I’m sure my first aid experience would come in handy at some point, and I used to wear a disguise in high school, so I have that going for me.”

  Wyatt didn’t want to work for Tanaka. And Rory had been the team mascot—a tiger doing gymnastic handsprings on the football field. See Rory Roar!

  “And Ken is loaded,” Rory continued. “So we’d definitely get paid. He probably gives great dental plan, too.”

  Wyatt leaned forward, wheezing as he tried not to laugh.

  Brenna put her hand on his shoulder and brought him back to an upright position. “As interesting as this is, let’s not tickle his funny bone too much right now,” she warned. “He wouldn’t enjoy another coughing spell in the middle of the hallway.”

  No. No, he wouldn’t enjoy that at all.

  “Shit,” Rory swore. “I’m sorry. I joke when I’m stressed. What did you call it, Fiona?”

  “Your coping mechanism,” Fiona answered. When Wyatt reached for her hand, she squeezed his fingers gently. “Does he need something for the pain?”

  “No,” Brenna answered. “He’ll be fine now. Anyway, we’re here. Hello, Chief Finn.”

  Younger stood there, tall and lean and haggard looking, as if he’d been on the same bender Rory had. “You look good, Wyatt.”

  He hoped his eyebrows conveyed what a lie he knew that was.

  “I’ll take him in,” he said, sharing looks with Rory and Fiona before slipping a mask over his mouth. “We won’t be long.”

  He wouldn’t admit it, but he was damn glad his big brother was with him as they wheeled into Noah’s isolation room. Younger had been the one to raise them. The one they’d turned to growing up. His strong, supportive presence behind him helped Wyatt deal with seeing his brother lying on that hospital bed, tubes attached to his arms, machines beeping around him and half his body covered in some kind of bandaging.

  Wyatt desperately wished he’d been paying more attention when the surgeon from this burn unit had given a talk at his firehouse. Was it four years ago? What had he said?

  Shit.

  “Noah?” Younger pushed him closer to the bed, but not close enough.

  Infection, he reminded himself. They needed to watch out for that now.

  “Noah, Wyatt is here to see you. I already told you why he can’t talk right now, but he wants you to know he’s here.”

  Noah didn’t respond, so Wyatt focused on the rise and fall of his brother’s chest instead, thinking about all the times he’d let his brother down.

  Being a raging dick about the baby was the first thing that came to mind. He’d almost destroyed their relationship over it. But with a little guidance and perspective, he’d gotten over himself, and things were finally back on a good footing. He’d moved back into the townhouse with Noah and little Zach. He cooked a little and helped out with chores. He’d even aced solo babysitting and memorized Zach’s favorite Disney movies to make up for his earlier mistakes.

  And that was because of Fiona. Well, because of her friend, JD Green, but Fiona had introduced them.

  Wyatt focused on his brother’s face, which was barely visible beneath all the bandages and tubes, and fought down the lump rising in his throat. Noah had to be okay, not just for his little boy but for him. I need you, Noah. I wish I could talk to you. I’m not sure what to do about Fiona. Do you know she’s back? I didn’t tell you she turned me down, and I usually tell you everything. I didn’t want to hear one of your lectures. But you could give it to me now, if you’d just wake up and look at me.

  “I think we should let him rest now,” Younger said quietly. “Wyatt?”

  He held up his hand, letting Younger know he needed more time. He stared hard at Noah, willing him to look back at him. They could get through this. They’d done everything else together, hadn’t they? They’d grown up together, lived together. Worked together.

  Being a fireman had fit them both down to the bone from day one. Wyatt had always found that funny, since initially, the main attraction of the job had been giving the finger to their old man.

  Police chief Solomo
n Finn the Elder had wanted all six of his sons to be cops like him, and he’d raised them accordingly. Strict rules. A zero-tolerance policy towards outward signs of affection or weakness. Trips to the shooting range instead of birthday parties, that sort of thing.

  It was a miracle they weren’t all serial killers.

  He and Noah shared a room and half a brain back then, and unlike most of their brothers, they’d enjoyed the family “team building” exercises, using them to excel athletically at school. That, along with active social lives, kept them busy through high school, but Wyatt knew it was their united front that got them out of that house relatively unscathed.

  It was that same unity that helped them buck their father when it came to careers. Neither of them wanted to be cops. Sure, they both looked good in uniform, but guns got a hard pass. The idea of carrying one had never sat well with Noah, and Wyatt had shitty aim with darts and bullets. One day he’d mentioned hearing a rumor that fireman had more time off to dick around and got laid a lot more often than cops did, and as easy as that, their fate was sealed. They were fighting fires instead of criminals and paperwork. Bonding with the guys and enjoying the hell out of their lives in between episodes of daring heroics. Their charity calendar had sold out in days, and Wyatt had dined out on that long enough to drive the rest of his brothers crazy.

  “Go away.”

  It was weak and full of pain, so quiet Wyatt almost didn’t hear it over the sound his damn oxygen mask was making. But when he looked up and saw Younger’s apologetic look, he knew he hadn’t imagined it.

  Go away.

  It was a sucker punch to the gut, and Wyatt had to work to keep his breathing even. He was still staring at his brother’s body in disbelief when Younger backed him out of the room.

  The chair had barely come to a stop in the hall when Younger took off his surgical mask and squatted beside Wyatt’s chair, laying his hand on his arm. “He’s been like that with everybody, Wyatt. Except Aunt Ellen, and God love her willingness, but she needs her rest and she can’t be here twenty-four-seven. Give him time.”

  Wyatt wanted to believe him, but somehow Noah’s words had felt specific. Personal. He didn’t know how to cope with that.

  He glanced over at Fiona and she was beside him in a heartbeat, letting him lean his forehead on her hip. “Let’s get him back to his room,” she said in a no-nonsense voice that demanded obedience. “Wyatt needs to rest now.”

  He needed a lot of things.

  They said you were lucky to be alive. Damn lucky.

  Sure. He was feeling lucky.

  Chapter Three

  Thoreau

  “I can’t, Thoreau. Sorry. Too tired.”

  He chuckled at the woman he was undressing as he guided her to the bed, forcing himself to ignore all the skin being revealed. “This isn’t a seduction, Fi. I’m under strict orders to get you in bed to sleep for eight hours with no interruptions. I’m not even peeking.”

  “Likely story.”

  Her eyes weren’t open as she spoke, but he could see the shadows beneath them. He’d thought she looked exhausted when he picked her up from the airport nearly a week ago, but after days at Wyatt Finn’s bedside, the situation had gotten worse.

  She hadn’t let her patient see it, of course. For him she’d put on makeup and smiles and lit up his hospital room with her special brand of sunshine. But right now, it looked like a strong wind could knock her over.

  Thoreau had had her favorite three-bean soup waiting when she got back from the hospital, and when she’d laid her head down beside the half-eaten bowl, he’d carried her into her room.

  Even more telling, she’d let him.

  “What was I saying?” she murmured, her lashes lifting as he helped her step out of her sandals. “About Wyatt.”

  “He’s being released into the wild tomorrow,” Thoreau reminded her quietly. “And everyone is still arguing about who is going to take him in while he’s recuperating.”

  “That’s right. So far Seamus and Jen are in the lead. Biggest houses. Indoor pool,” she listed through an adorable yawn as her skirt dropped to the floor and she sat down in her underwear. “Pools are nice.”

  She’d also mentioned that no one had talked to Wyatt about it yet, which pissed Thoreau off slightly on the man’s behalf. No doubt the Finn brothers were worried he’d resent being kicked out of his own room in the townhouse so that a long-term care nurse could take care of his brother. Especially since, from what he’d heard, Noah was still not talking when he came by to visit.

  Wyatt had put his life on the line to save his brother, and Thoreau respected the hell out of that. He’d like to think he’d do the same for one of his, but he’d never been in that situation before. Never had to make a life-or-death decision under that kind of pressure.

  Wyatt might not believe it, but Thoreau had been worried about him, too. He’d seen the news and gotten the group texts like everyone else. He checked in with Fiona every day.

  The video feed of the fire would give him nightmares for weeks to come, but Wyatt and his brother had been in it. They were both suffering for it, and their entire family was vying for the chance to help in a situation that made them all feel helpless. Noah’s in particular, because it was obvious the man would be dealing with the repercussions for years. Maybe the rest of his life.

  But they were both alive. Wyatt was alive. As far as Thoreau was concerned, that was a win.

  “Where do you think he should go?” he asked as he slid his hand beneath her tank top and unhooked the front clasp of her bra.

  She shivered as he removed it, and the shadow of her hardening nipples through the fabric taunted him. Not now. “Fiona?”

  “It doesn’t matter where we go. As long as he gets better.” She pressed her forehead against his shoulder as he caressed her arms. “That feels so good, Thoreau. You have no idea.”

  Where we go. That was what he thought she’d say. He kissed her hair, smelling the lavender-and-cedar scent she favored and feeling his body respond. Worst timing ever, but he couldn’t help his reaction. He’d never been able to when it came to her.

  Neither could Wyatt.

  “Does that mean you’ll be in town for a while longer?” He forced himself to keep his tone casual. As if his future weren’t riding on her answer. “You never told me when you needed to get back to the school.”

  She shook her head without lifting it. “Not going back. I wasn’t anyway. Not even before the fire. You don’t know that yet. Neither does he.”

  He did now.

  That was interesting. And unfair. Fiona was too tired to filter her thoughts. He guided her gently down until her back was on the bed.

  Her hair fanned out on the pillow, inviting his touch. The waves were a silky chestnut with a hint of cinnamon. Had he ever seen Fiona without dye in her hair? When he asked about it the other day, she’d shrugged it off. “Even hair needs a clean slate once in a while.”

  He’d worried that meant she was planning to stay in California, which was the vibe he’d been getting before she left. He’d also thought she’d only come back to make sure Wyatt was on the mend. But now she said she was staying.

  What changed?

  She tipped her head back with a breathy sigh and looked at him. Her gray-green eyes, framed by heavy lids and thick lashes, looked darker than usual. “Kiss me goodnight?”

  Oh, how he wanted to. Hovering over her on the bed, with Fiona in nothing but her blue bikini panties and white tank, Thoreau had never been so tempted to take what he needed.

  It had been too long since that night she’d given in to him after calling things off with Wyatt. That night he’d taken her right here in this bed. Again and again, until they were both hoarse from shouting. Until they were too weak to make it to the kitchen to refuel. Until he knew every inch of her body as well as he’d known her moods and the expressions on her face.

  His parents hadn’t raised him to take something that belonged to someone else, but that�
�s exactly what he’d done. Fiona would argue with that, tell him she made her own decisions, and she’d be right. But at the time, he was pretty sure Wyatt wouldn’t see it that way. And Thoreau had to own that.

  It didn’t matter that she’d said she’d broken things off. She’d done it before, but she’d never been able to stay away from Wyatt for long. So Thoreau had gone in with his eyes open, knowing that what was between Fiona and her fireman wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  What made it harder was that he couldn’t even hate the guy. In fact, he was having the opposite problem.

  The few times Wyatt had relaxed enough around him to be himself, Thoreau had seen that there was a lot more going on beneath the handsome, blond, irreverent surface than the Finn wanted people to know. And the unguarded way he looked at Fiona when he thought no one was watching told him what he felt for her was so much more than casual attraction.

  Thoreau had had a front row seat to the Wyatt and Fiona show. That first flirting. The back-and-forth, push-and-pull of their attraction and Wyatt’s persistence. He couldn’t deny how much the man cared about her. If he didn’t, Thoreau wouldn’t hesitate to keep her up a little bit longer and show her how much he’d missed having her beneath him.

  She smiled, reaching up to trace the small scar under his chin most people couldn’t see. “What are you thinking about?”

  He lowered his head to kiss her neck. Her cheek. Light. Keep it light. “I’m thinking you need to go to sleep, Fi. And I have to check on something at work. If I kiss you the way you want me to, both of us might forget that.”

  She leaned into his caresses, humming like a purring kitten and causing his cock to jerk in response. “You’re probably right.”

  “I usually am.”

  She laughed, turning her head to kiss the forearm beside her. “Fine, genius. I’m sleeping. Thank you for the soup and the comfy bed.”

  He winced as he made himself leave her side, his erection straining against the now-snug fabric of his slacks. “This is your room, Fiona. Your home, whenever you want it. I’ve told you that.”