by Angel Payne
“How long…was I asleep?” Talia yawned in the middle of her question.
“Not long enough.” I went irked grizzly with the comeback, though bussed her forehead with a tender kiss. “Will you please let the girls go back to the condo with you? You could get some actual sleep.”
“Absolutely not.” Her stare was a mixture of a plea and a dare to say otherwise. She tangled the tips of her fingers with mine, confirming she still needed that constant physical contact as much as me. “I’m staying here with you.”
My soft smile spread as I brushed hair from her eyes. “Stubborn girl.”
“I don’t want to miss when he wakes up.”
“Did Mac say how long he expected the procedure to take?” Killian took the seat beside me. Claire, with a hand on the swell of her belly, eased back into the one right next to him.
“He said it should be around five or six hours—but every case is different.” I rubbed the back of my neck. The muscles there were tighter than bow strings. Actually, every muscle in my body could successfully apply for the status.
“Who’s Mac?” Claire’s gold gaze flashed with curiosity as she wrapped a hand around her husband’s.
“My cousin,” Kil supplied. “The neurosurgeon working on Fletch.”
“Your cousin is a neurosurgeon?” Her finely sculpted brows shot up into her hairline but dropped in resignation. “And why did that even surprise me for a second?” Bafflement took over on a new frown. “But have I met him? Was he at the wedding? Like I remember anything from that production. What a blur.”
Killian’s features tightened, too—enough to ensure at least Claire and I picked up on it. “We’re not…close.” His tone was clipped and brusque.
“Oh?” She looked at him, her face finishing the open question.
Kil just sighed. “We don’t…normally speak. I don’t want to get into it right now, Fairy. The story’s long and boring and no one really wants to hear it.” The man glanced at her, clearly knowing that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his wife.
“Ah. So, you’ll tell me later, then. Good.” She never actually waited for his reply.
Killian chuckled softly. “Damn. You’re spending too much time with my sister. Margaux’s brass balls are rubbing off on you.” He dragged Claire closer and kissed her forehead. She eyed him with mischief but smiled with the clarity of love. The two of them were a walking, talking commercial for perseverance, and everyone lucky enough to be in their presence knew it.
I was in the middle of that contemplation when Claire turned to me, taking my free hand into hers. “So, what can we do for you, Drake? Anything at all? Have you eaten?”
“I’m not very hungry.” The tone was harsher than I intended, but she only smiled warmly. Guess the woman had my number by this point. I was thankful when she moved on to Talia. She needed the attention and affection of her friends right now.
“What about you, sweetie?”
Talia looked up. “I’m good. Really, it’s all right.”
“No,” I interjected. “It’s not.” The comprehension slammed, hard and ruthless, that we’d been at the hospital for close to ten hours now, and Tolly hadn’t had so much as a glass of water. I was furious with myself. I could mandate my body into survival mode. She didn’t have the same advantage.
“You need to eat something.” I didn’t leave any room for argument.
“I do but you don’t?”
Apparently, I had left room. Either that or her courageous-kitten thing got an injection of boldness when her girl posse was together. But when I hit her with a new glare, more direct this time, I heard Taylor suck in her breath.
“Shit, Talia. Just listen to him. You need to eat something, girl. If you don’t, you may need medical attention.”
“I would never hurt her,” I snapped. “Ever.” I was tired and testy, my fuse shorter than normal—but when Taylor cringed from me, I felt like an even bigger ass.
“Joking, Chief,” she placated. “Settle down.” She swiveled to Talia again. “Let us take you downstairs. Have a bite to eat? A little walk, change of scenery? It’ll do you some good.”
“You’re right.” Talia answered her friend but looked at me. “Will you come with me?” she entreated. “You need to eat as much as I do, even if we aren’t hungry. When Fletch wakes up, he’s going to need us. We won’t be much good to him if we don’t take care of ourselves.”
“Go ahead, man.” Killian held up his cell. “We’ll text or call if Mac comes in, and you can hustle back up here.”
An hour passed while we ate the most mediocre burgers Chicago had to offer, though if it had been the finest cut of steak in the city, I wouldn’t have tasted it, either. My thoughts were all over the place, like sticky notes in a windstorm. Every message was important but I couldn’t pin any one of them down. Though Tolly and I were too stressed for much conversation, I knew I would’ve been utterly lost without her by my side.
“He can’t die.” And that was what I picked to speak for the first time in thirty minutes?
“He’s not going to.”
Her confident tone did nothing to alleviate my cresting panic.
“I wish I were more like you.” It was just a hoarse whisper, but I meant every syllable. To the depths of my soul.
She almost choked on her drink before setting it down to focus completely on me. As she responded, she intertwined our fingers again. Her stare, compelling mine to stay locked with hers, undoubtedly confronted the adoration of my heart.
“Why would you say that?” she demanded. “You are amazing—for so many reasons. But right now, you’re amazing because of the friend you are to Fletcher, even though he’s not even here to see it. You didn’t back down to those horrible snotty parents of his, standing your ground when they tried to force us out of all this. Because of you, we’re still sitting here, involved and connected, instead of waiting at home for a phone call—that, let’s be honest, might not have ever been made.”
I closed my eyes and drew in a long breath, soaking my raw senses with the medicine of her words. “I appreciate all of that. Thank you. But you…” I opened my gaze, taking in the miracle of her classic Russian features. “You just do everything with…a certain grace. I guess that says it. No, it doesn’t. I don’t know how to word what I’m feeling.” I rubbed at the pain in my chest, but it didn’t help. “I’d be lost without you, Tolly. Right now—and forever. I just—”
“Just what?” she prompted.
“I just can’t imagine my life without you and Fletcher now. Last year, when I thought leaving was the best for everyone? That absence…it was overwhelming. It was awful. I can barely breathe remembering the isolation of it.”
“Ssshhh. Stop this.” She rubbed my forearm with her soft hand, trying to soothe away the desperation crawling beneath my skin. But the bizarre apprehension wouldn’t let me go. So much here was beyond our control. My best friend—my brother—was upstairs having his skull drilled open. His family’s new diplomacy was just a thin veneer. I couldn’t escape the feeling we were headed for another chasm and God only knew what lay in wait at the bottom this time.
“I never want to feel like that again.” My grate was a paltry defense, but it helped to vocalize the intention.
“I know.” Her assurance bolstered me, too.
“I mean it,” I emphasized. “I’ll do whatever I have to, so I never have to—”
The phone in my back pocket vibrated. An incoming text.
“It’s time,” I said, reading the brief words from Killian. “They’ve moved him to recovery, and Mac will be out in a few minutes to tell everyone how it went.”
Talia had already tossed our half-eaten meals and taken the trays to the return window. I scooped her hand into mine. Without another word, we jogged back up to the trauma surgical unit, joining our friends in the waiting area.
“Has he come in?” I asked at once.
“Not yet.” Killian snorted. “Just like the arrogant ass to have us a
ll panting like dogs for his arrival.”
And there was a subject I’d be calling the guy out on, as soon as the shit storm of my own life settled. Kil, who’d more than earned his nickname as the Enigma of Magnificent Mile, was uncharacteristically vocal about his ill-will toward his cousin. For now, I was happy to let Claire take care of the reprimanding.
“Would you stop?” she scolded. “He’s your family.”
“Barely.”
“You are really going to tell me all about this later.”
“Later.” His echo doubled as a dominant directive. There was the Kil we knew and loved.
“Oh, I won’t forget.” Claire arched both brows, scoring a point right back. “But now, we’re here for Drake, Talia and Fletcher.”
“You’re absolutely right, Fairy.” He kissed her forehead, turning them into such an adorable portrait, I ached. Damn. If I were in a better mental place, I’d be taking notes to use the moment later as ammunition. Instead, looking on from the edge of my emotional chasm, I watched with envy at the way he and his beautifully pregnant wife fed off each other. The hole in my chest sucked in air, growing even wider.
Mac came in like a hurricane. His eyes, so blue even a dude had to notice, were full of frenetic energy. His hair, despite its short style, stuck out in all kinds of places. It’d been slicked back earlier, but the style was long gone now. I noticed that his height came mostly from long legs, still encased in the bright blue scrubs we’d seen earlier, though his scrub shirt had been replaced by a plain white T-shirt. The tee was pristine and fresh, contrasting sharply to the rest of his clothes, including the typical white doctor’s coat with his nametag over the outer pocket.
He paused in front of Richard and Francine, waiting for the rest of us to gather around before diving in on the debrief.
“Okay. Things went really well—as well as we could hope for in this situation. He’ll be in recovery for an hour or two. Since we’ll keep him heavily sedated for the next couple of days, what we need to see now are consistent vitals. Even with the ventilator in place, things can get a little rough after such an intense surgery, so we’ll wait until he’s stable to move him over to the neuro ICU. There, he’ll have round-the-clock care and monitoring.”
He paused, not looking up from his file for even a glance at our faces—though I sensed he already heard our unspoken questions. The most important one anyway.
“Once he’s in ICU, you’ll be able to sit with him for short periods of time, one at a time. That’s the rule at this place. If the ward is quiet, sometimes they’ll allow two, but that’s at the nurses’ discretion, and I wouldn’t advise you cross any of them.”
Only then did the man’s head lift, finally noticing what a huge audience he had. He blinked as if emerging from a dark tunnel into the sun, or even an addict coming off a high. He’d been in some sort of frenzy when first arriving, and now the buzz was subsiding. I had no idea what I witnessed, but having the power to save or end another person’s life had to mess with a guy’s psyche.
“So,” he finally said, almost stammering his way through the single syllable. “Can I—uhhh—answer any questions?” He looked to the Fords first, then to Talia and me, finally noticing Killian, Claire and Taylor stood there, too. He frowned at Killian, passed right over Claire then settled on Taylor.
Hard.
Something changed in his demeanor again. “I’m sorry,” he bit out. “You are?” Under his breath, he mumbled, “It’s like a fucking circus in here today.”
Kil and I restrained mutual groans—parting shots for the man’s balls. I’d been in enough meetings with Taylor to predict the reaction she wasted no time in issuing.
“Circus?” She shot it out with a hitch of her hip. “So, what does that make you? A clown?”
“That’s Doctor Clown, and again, you are?” His retort came without skipping a beat.
“Taylor. My name is Taylor Mathews. And these are some of the finest people I’ve ever known, so I’m not sure where your attitude is coming from. If you hadn’t just saved my best friend’s bae, I’d kick you in the shins. Or places higher.”
His eyes blazed, the blue intensified by disbelief. But the next second, an enormous grin spread across his face. He rocked back on a heel, raking an assessing stare over her feisty stance.
“Taylor.” He dropped the smirk as he echoed it, looking like he’d tasted something unpleasant. “Who names a girl Taylor?”
“My mother is fucked-up in—oh I don’t know—twenty ways from Sunday. Naming her daughter Taylor was probably one of the most normal things she ever did. Not that it’s your business, Doctor Clown.”
Claire and Talia joined Kil and me at biting back the snickers now—especially as the firecracker didn’t give poor Mac a second of breathing room. Sauntering forward, she tapped his name tag two times in succession. “Maclain Stone. How come we’ve never heard about you?”
Mac stiffened. His unease after the post-op high was just an appetizer for his tension now. “Direct your inquiry to that asshole, ma’am.” He jabbed a thumb Killian’s way. “Not everyone can breathe the special air at the top of the food chain, you know.”
“Okay.” Taylor extended both syllables, filling the terse silence he’d dropped. “I have no idea what that all means—but regardless, thanks are owed to both of you.” After he and Kil gave her nothing but confused snorts for that, she finished, “Thank you, Doctor, for dropping everything in your day to help our friend. And thank you, Killian, for making this all happen.”
“Oh, this is fantastic.” Mac groaned it out when Taylor sealed her gratitude by hugging Killian. “I just worked magic in there for five hours, saving your friend’s head from blowing up like a watermelon with rubber bands around it, and you’re hugging him?”
Taylor planted a new pose where she stood—five clear feet away from the doctor. “Rubber bands? Really? That’s where you just went? Someone is watching way too much YouTube.” She pretended to laugh. She also pretended to ignore Mac’s reaction. None of us were buying either move.
“I’m done here,” Mac muttered. “Unless anyone else besides this one”—he pointed hard at Taylor—“has any questions?”
Silence. A long, speechless pause.
Everyone but Mac and Taylor—yeah, including Francine and Dick—played a fast round of what-the-fuck? Frisbee. What had just happened? I wasn’t sure the doc and the firecracker would take their chemistry to blows or tear each other’s clothes off.
Finally, Francine broke up the fun. Clearing her throat with nasal emphasis, she asked, “Doctor, how long will you keep him sedated?”
“Uhhh…” Mac just kept staring at Taylor.
I glanced to Kil, who was likely my mirror in the dumbfounded department. The man had gone Millennium Falcon in the woman’s tractor beam. Taylor gave as good as she got, staring right back, her stiff little spine straight as an arrow, making the most of her five-foot-two-inch frame.
“Dr. Stone?” Richard called out his name. “Dr. Stone?”
With a grunt, Killian finally stomped forward. He got into Mac’s grill, openly gritting his teeth. “These people are asking you questions about their son, Maclain. Can you circle back to fucking Earth for a minute and get your head in the game?”
Taylor turned bright red and fled the room. At once, I watched conflict tear across Talia’s face. Her duty as a friend dictated going after Taylor, but she’d miss hearing Mac’s answers about Fletcher. Thank fuck for Claire, who hurried out of the door behind Taylor.
I caught Mac mid-sentence when turning back to his conversation with Francine.
“—about four to seven days? It’s different for every patient. We’ll monitor him very closely now. The next twenty-four hours will tell us a lot about how this recovery will go.”
“Very well.” Francine pivoted from Mac to her husband. “I’m going to step out and call Sasha. She’s worried sick at home, but I told her to just stay there. We already have enough of a crowd milling around
here.”
Neither Talia nor I missed the bitch’s parting jab. I reached for Talia, letting her settle against my chest with a weighted sigh. Long minutes later, she tugged away a little. Fresh tears shone in her eyes, but she fought them with a valiant effort. Her chin wobbled, her throat was taut.
“He’s going to be okay, baby.” I swiped the drops escaping her eyes anyway. “You heard the doctor.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know. These are tears of relief.” She tried for a smile but it barely scratched the surface of her normal joy. “I think they are, at least.”
“Want to know what I think?”
“Of course.”
“I think we should go home.”
I was ready for the panicked whip of her head, as well as the urgent plea across her face. She wasn’t going to accede without a fight.
“No. No. I want to stay. Drake, please. We need to stay.”
“We also need sleep. And showers. And some decent food. We have to stay strong, Tolly—for him.”
Her shoulders drooped. “I-I know you’re right. But what if something happens? What if he needs us, and we aren’t here? Maybe we can go in shifts. You go rest, I’ll stay here, then we can trade. That way—”
I interrupted her the most effective way I knew. With a strict kiss. “I’m not accepting no on this. You’re near hysterics because you’re hungry and exhausted, and I’ve only made a suggestion. How will you be able to handle it if a real crisis happens? Fletch is stable for now. Let’s use the time to fortify ourselves.”
She dug in like a child resisting a nap. “I am fortified.”
“God damn it, Tolly.” I muttered it while dragging a vicious hand down my face. “Don’t make me be the bad guy. I’m responsible for taking care of you, above anything else.”
“Above Fletcher?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Sorry.” She pulled at the front of my shirt, extending a new pout. Her adorable one. Yeah, the look that unraveled me every time. “I really don’t want to go.”
