Tease Me: The Macintyre Brothers Book Two

by S. E. Lund

  I hoped Josh proved me wrong.

  8

  Josh

  After David returned from the OR and was settled into his observation room, I spent the night in the lounge outside the ICU. Sleep was fitful, and I was awoken several times as people entered or left the ward. In the morning when I woke for the final time, I checked on David. It was around seven in the morning and hospital kitchen workers were pushing around the meal carts for breakfast. David was gone from his room and for a moment, I panicked, thinking that he'd gotten worse while I slept and was back in surgery.

  I rushed to the nursing station and bent over the counter, frantic to know where he was.

  "Can you tell me where David Macintyre is? He's not in his room."

  The nurse glanced up from her monitor. "Mr. Macintyre is getting another MRI to check on his injuries. He should be back pretty soon." She gave me a smile and I relaxed a bit.

  I wiped my brow dramatically. "For a moment, I was worried that he went back into surgery or something."

  "No, it's just a follow-up scan to make sure he is okay to be moved to the surgical ward. You should be able to take see him once he's back and the doctors have done morning rounds."

  I went back to the lounge and fixed myself a cup of coffee and a piece of toast with peanut butter, graciously provided for family members who were spending time in the lounge. Then, I waited.

  While I waited, I sent an email to one of the security techs at MBS who often did research for the paper to get background on people for news articles.

  JOSH: Hey Pete, can you do a full background check on this old friend of mine? Her name is Penelope McNeil and she's from Millbrook, Alabama. She's currently a junkie and I’m hoping to help her get into rehab.

  PETE: Sure thing, boss. You want a full background? I can talk to local police to see if she has a record, that sort of thing.

  JOSH: Whatever you can find out. I appreciate it. She's the sister of an old army buddy who recently died and she's not doing well.

  PETE: No prob. I understand.

  For the next hour, I read over the headlines on my cell, trying to get caught back up with the world after the previous day spent surfing and then in the hospital. I checked my watch and at around nine, I went back to the nursing station.

  "He's still not back in his room," I said, starting to get worried.

  "Oh, Mr. Macintyre was taken to the ward already. I'm sorry but you must have been in the washroom when it happened, and I didn't see you to tell you. You should be able to go up now."

  I thanked her and took the elevator up to the surgical ward, stopping in to ask the nurses there how he was.

  "He's a bit sleepy but he's stable. The docs are doing rounds right now so if you'd like, you can wait in the family lounge just down the hall. They should be done in fifteen minutes."

  When the time had finally come that I could visit David, I went into his room just as his nurse was finishing recording his vitals. She gave me a smile and I went over to David's side. His eyes were closed so I assumed he was sleeping. I didn't want to wake him but was glad to see that he was still breathing, and his color was a bit better than the last time I saw him.

  I pulled a chair over beside the bed and sat down, taking out my cell so I could read more news headlines while he slept.

  He must have heard the chair scrape along the floor for he woke up, his eyes cracking open.

  "There you are," he said, his voice soft.

  "How are you, little brother?" I asked and bent down, kissing him on the forehead. "You gave me quite the scare."

  "What's with all the kissing?" he said and smiled, although his eyes were closed. "You haven't kissed me since you were drunk after you called off your engagement."

  "I'm all emotional that you're still alive, that's what's with all the kissing," I said with a chuckle. He was only teasing for if anyone was an overly affectionate type, it was David, who was always hugging and kissing everyone else.

  He sighed. "Terry died in the night," he said, his voice sounding tired. "They were waiting to tell me until the results came back from my MRI. I guess they didn't want to upset me or something."

  "I'm so sorry," I said and felt a stab of regret in my gut. Terry was a great guy. I only knew him from that visit, but he was friendly and seemed a really good friend of David's.

  "At least he donated his organs, so something good will come of this."

  "How did he die?"

  "Brain injury," David said. He sighed and then he lifted his hand up and covered his eyes, holding back a sob. I reached out and squeezed his arm, wanting to comfort him. "He had two little kids."

  "I'm sorry."

  Life was so fragile. One minute you were alive. The next, you weren't. It seemed so trite, but it was shocking when you realized it up close and personally.

  Having just lost Grant, I knew how David was feeling.

  I leaned down and kissed him again, holding onto his shoulder gently, trying to give him some kind of comfort, but I knew there was nothing I could really do to ease his pain.

  There just wasn't. Losing someone who had once been close to me, I knew that all too well.

  I left David to sleep for a while after he'd regained his composure. While I waited, I called the family back East to let them know about David. I didn't want to send them a text until I knew whether David would survive, but now that I felt pretty secure that he was going to recover, I had to let them know.

  The brothers and I did a conference call and I was able to speak with each one and with each other.

  "I'll probably stay here until David gets discharged and I know he has all the care he needs in place. Maybe a week at least," I said.

  "Do you want any of us to come and give you a hand?" Christian asked.

  "Not necessary unless you really want to come. I have things handled, but if you have the time, feel free."

  "I might pop out there just for a few days, to help out," Christian said. "I'm not teaching this semester, so I have the time."

  "I'll pick you up at the airport. Let me know when your flight arrives."

  We said our goodbyes and I ended the conference call, glad that Christian was coming. He was pretty reliable as brothers went. Very serious, studious, a straight arrow-type.

  I knew he'd be a comfort to David during his recovery.

  While David recovered quickly over the next couple of days, I alternated my time between the new office of MBS and the hospital. When the day came to discharge David, Christian arrived and the two of us brought David home to his mansion in the hills.

  He had a big incision in is belly, and so he had a few weeks of recovery ahead of him. What most upset him was that he would have to miss Terry's funeral. There was no way David could go, given how soon after surgery it was.

  "I feel so bad," David said to us and Christian and I helped him get settled onto the sofa in his living room. "I should be at the funeral."

  "Don't feel that way," Christian replied. "You got out of emergency surgery on a couple of days ago and need to heal. Nothing strenuous for six weeks."

  David laid back on the sofa and allowed me to pull a blanket over him while Christian got him a cup of coffee.

  "I'm going to the new office for the rest of the afternoon, but Christian will be with you in case you need anything," I said to David as I brought over the newspaper for him to read.

  "Thanks," David said and closed his eyes. "Even just the trip home has tired me out. I think I'll have a little nap."

  I squeezed his shoulder and patted Christian on the back. "Call me if you need anything," I said. "I'll be home around six o'clock. We can grill something for supper. Let me know what you feel like and I can pick it up on the way home."

  "Will do," Christian said. "I got things covered here."

  I drove to Santa Monica where the new office was located. I'd already hired a skeleton staff who had been working on various startup projects, and now I had to spend a few days finishing hiring the editors
and other staff for the California office. It kept me busy for most of the afternoon, my mind focused and forgetting all about everything else.

  Around five thirty, I got a text from Christian.

  CHRISTIAN: Hey, how about some nice thick steaks for supper? David said he wants beef.

  JOSH: I'm on it. Make sure there's some cold beer for me when I get there, and I'll fire up the grill.

  CHRISTIAN: You got it. See you when you get here.

  I finished up at work and then stopped by a Whole Foods store on the way home to pick up some beef for supper. When I arrived home, Christian had a cold beer in hand and David was on a lawn chair on the patio in the shade. He seemed pretty good, all things considered.

  I went right over to him while Christian got the steaks ready. "How are you doing?" I squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

  "Good," he said and gave me a faint smile. "Wish I could have one of those, but I better wait until my antibiotic is finished.

  "You should," I said and went over to the grill to start it and get it ready.

  We spoke for a while about work and what I was doing with the new office of MBS.

  "We had to cancel release of our EP," David said, his voice emotional. "Terry's wife Sharice is having a really hard time, because she just found out she's pregnant."

  "Oh, that's too bad," I said and shook my head. David was clearly emotional about it.

  "Plus, I just heard about the man and woman in the other car. The man died at the scene, and the woman was airlifted to the hospital with pretty bad internal injuries. She's still in the hospital."

  "Do they have any idea why he hit you guys?"

  "He spilled his coffee on himself and just for a split second, lost control of the wheel. That was it. One false move and he's dead and Terry's dead. I feel so bad..."

  I went over to David and forced him to look in my eyes. "I know you feel bad for them," I said, feeling so bad for him. "There's nothing you can do but look after yourself, okay?"

  David nodded, but I could see how emotional he was.

  "It should have been me driving, but I had that extra beer," David said. "It should have been me dead. I don't have anyone. No wife, no kids..."

  "Don't say that," I replied, frowning. "No one should have died, David. Not Terry. Not the guy in the BMW. It's just bad luck. Not something you can control."

  "I could have not had that second beer, but I knew Terry would stop at one. He always had my back when I overindulged."

  "It was Terry's choice. I could have driven instead."

  "No, then you would be dead."

  I knelt down beside David and squeezed his shoulder. "David. It was bad luck. Nothing more. It wasn't anyone's fault."

  "No, no," David said, shaking his head, his eyes brimming. "You're just saying that. If I hadn't had that extra beer, none of this would have happened. We would have left right away and been home without anything happening."

  "There's nothing any of us can do about what happened in the past. We have to move on."

  "Yeah, Sharice and the new baby and the other kids have to move on. That woman in the BMW has to move on. Tell that to them."

  "You're alive," I said and took his hand, squeezing it. "You have to keep living."

  He glanced away, clearly not willing or able to accept that fact.

  I realized David was suffering from survivor's guilt, and perhaps a delayed response to the crash finally hitting him. He would have some form of PTSD from the crash and from losing his friend and bandmate. It was normal, but it wasn't good. I'd call the nurse at the hospital and see about getting some counseling for David, so he could get over his guilt at surviving while his friend died.

  I grilled us steaks and we had a hastily-made salad and some bread for supper, but no matter how hard Christian and I tried, we couldn't pull David out of his funk. Finally, at about eight thirty, David said he was tired and wanted to go to bed, so we helped him to his room and got him ready. I tucked him into his big empty king-sized four poster in his huge room and he looked so tiny against the covers in that huge room.

  So alone.

  "See you in the morning," I said and kissed his forehead.

  "Thanks, bro," David said. "I know I'm not the best company right now."

  "Shh," I said and pulled the covers up over his shoulder. "Just go to sleep. You can call me if you need anything in the night. Your cell is right beside you there on the bed."

  He nodded and closed his eyes, but I could tell he was still overly emotional.

  I completely understood why. He felt responsible for the deaths. He felt guilty for still being alive.

  As much as I wanted to go back to Manhattan and see Ella, I wouldn't leave LA until I knew he was getting psychological counseling.

  I was now the head of the family, and the brothers were my responsibility.

  9

  Ella

  Josh texted me at midnight Manhattan time.

  JOSH: Hey, pretty lady. How are you? I miss your sweet smile.

  I smiled when I read it and texted him right back.

  ELLA: I'm fine. I miss you, too. How's David?

  I saw the little dots for a long time and realized he was writing a longer text. I hoped it didn't mean David had gotten worse...

  Finally, the message popped into my feed.

  JOSH: He's fine physically, but emotionally, he's having real problems. He's suffering from survivor's guilt. In addition to Terry dying, the guy in the BMW also died and Terry's wife is pregnant.

  ELLA: Oh, I'm so sorry. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't driving, and it was the other guy's fault, right?

  JOSH: Yes, it was the other driver at fault. I guess he spilled his coffee and momentarily glanced down and lost control of the wheel. David feels guilty because we stayed, and he and I had an extra beer and so Terry drove instead of him. He figures Terry would be alive if he hadn't.

  ELLA: Poor David. You can drive yourself crazy playing 'what if'. Bad things just happen sometimes.

  JOSH: I know that, and you know that, but right now, David's blaming himself. I'm going to see about counseling for him. It's hit him really hard.

  ELLA: That's good. He needs it, if he feels that way. How are you doing? You were also in the crash and a survivor.

  JOSH: I'm fine. Glad to be alive. Sad for the two men who died. I have to be functional for David, so it's taken my mind off myself, I guess. That's a good thing.

  ELLA: You have to look after yourself as well. When are you coming back?

  JOSH: Once I know that Christian has David's care in hand. He's not teaching this semester so he's happy to stay with David. I'll probably be home in a few days. I'll let you know.

  ELLA: Okay.

  JOSH: Good night, Ella.

  ELLA: Good night. Call me or text me any time you want to talk.

  JOSH: I will.

  I put my cell away and laid back on my bed, glad that he'd texted me, but worried about him. He felt he had to be strong for his brother, but he was also a survivor and had to take care of himself.

  As I tried to fall asleep, I couldn't get the image of Josh in the crumpled SUV out of my mind, aware of how close he had come to being hurt or even killed.

  The next day, I met my parents at the hotel and we went out for lunch. Their flight back to New Hampshire left later in the afternoon, so we had time to spare. I took them back to the office while I checked in with Sharon. She'd given me the day off, so I could spend time with my parents before they left, so I left my parents in my office and went to meet with Sharon before we went to the deli down the street.

  I had a quick chat with Sharon about Josh, pretending surprise about the accident. I felt bad, but it wasn't time yet to come out and admit we were seeing each other. I wanted to wait until we made some kind of more permanent commitment before I did that.

  When I came back, Becca, one of my co-workers was in the office with them.

  "Hi, Becca," I said and introduced them.

  "Your father
was just asking me about you and Keith," she said, her eyebrows raised.

  "Yes," my father said, frowning. "She said that Keith already had a girlfriend who works here. Meghan?"

  "Yes, as far as I knew, Keith is dating Meghan. I had no idea you two were..." Becca said, shrugging.

  "And that Keith is a CPA, not a bicycle courier," my father said, clearing his throat. "It seems that Joshua Macintyre is the one who rides a bike around here. And," he said meaningfully. "There's no bicycle courier business in the building."

  "Becca, can you excuse us?" I said, my face hot with embarrassment. "We need to have a chat."

  "Okay," she said and had this sheepish expression on her face. "If you want to talk later, we can."

  "We should," I said. "Just to clear a few things up."

  Becca finally left us and so I closed the door and turned to face my parents, who were looking at me expectantly.

  "Tell me you're dating Joshua Macintyre," my mother said.

  At the same time, my father said, "Tell me you're not dating Joshua Macintyre..."

  They glanced at each other and I could have laughed out loud at how differently the two of them saw the whole business, except I felt sick to my stomach.

  "I just made it all up to keep you from worrying about me."

  "Keith seemed willing to play along. How come?"

  "Because he's a nice guy and realized I had used him as a convenient excuse and went along with it to save me?" I said, hoping it would be enough to throw my father off the trail.

  "So, you're not dating Joshua Macintyre?" my father asked, unwilling to give me a break.

  "I met him," I said, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to admit how close we had become. My father opened his mouth to speak but I interrupted him, holding my hand out to stop him. "But we both were burned before and neither of us believe in romance anymore." While that was true, we definitely felt romantic towards each other.

  "So, you are dating him," my mother said, smiling.