The Doctor Takes a Detour

by Bren Christopher

  Their mother frowned. “You have to work. We’ll take him to our house.”

  “You’re going to change the bandage?” Lucia looked skeptical. “When we were little, you couldn’t even see a skinned knee without passing out.”

  “You can change the bandage in the evenings,” their mom said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll watch him during the day.”

  “He can come home with me,” Josh said suddenly.

  “What? No.” Lucia shook her head. “He should be with me and—”

  “Lucia,” Ian interrupted. When she frowned at him, he raised his brows and tilted his chin toward Josh.

  She squinted at him, and then the puzzled line between her eyes cleared. “Oh. Oh. Um . . . yes, that’s a great idea.”

  “It is?” Their mom looked baffled.

  “Sure. Josh is a doctor. Who better to take care of Ian?”

  “Well, his mother, for one. I—”

  “Great,” Ian said. “Josh it is.”

  “Okay.” Josh seemed a little shell-shocked. “Okay, then. We’ll do that.”

  Smiling, Ian leaned back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

  If Ian had thought getting Josh alone would resolve all their differences, thereby clearing the way for hot sexy time, he’d sadly overestimated his own powers of recuperation.

  He’d been discharged late that evening, gone home with Josh, and fallen straight into Josh’s bed. Sounded good in theory, but when Ian had tried to tug Josh in with him, the man had laughed. Laughed. Really?

  Ian had had little time to be insulted, as the pain pill he’d taken to help him through the ride home kicked in full force, and he’d passed out right in the middle of yanking on Josh’s pants.

  And now here he was, blinking in the morning light shining through Josh’s pristine white blinds, and no one to complain to about the blinding rays lancing through his eyeballs. Why was there no one to complain to? He buried his face in the fluffy pillow, smelling clean sheets. Lord, this was a huge bed, and Josh had to sleep here all by himself? Seemed a shame.

  But Josh wasn’t by himself in this big bed. Ian was.

  Groaning, he pulled himself out of bed, staggered to the bathroom, then out into the open living area. The blessed smell of coffee greeted him, and he paused to take in the sight of Josh with his messy blond head bent over the stove, working a spatula like a pro. He wore loose flannel sleep pants and a T-shirt from some medical conference. The shirt clung to his lean torso.

  “Hey.” Josh smiled at him. “I was going to bring you this in bed.”

  “Are those pancakes?” Ian loved pancakes. Most of the time. Right now, his stomach wasn’t in agreement, although the thought of Josh wanting to bring him breakfast in bed . . . Oh yes, all of him was very much in agreement with that.

  “Yep.” Josh flipped a pancake. “Do you want to sit at the table or go back to bed?”

  “Hmm?” He steadied himself with one hand on the wall, feeling just a bit off-balance.

  “You better go back to bed.”

  “They look good, but . . .”

  “They’re plain pancakes. You need to try and eat one, at least. And tea. That would be better than coffee if your stomach is upset from the concussion.”

  “It’s not bad.” Ian crossed the living room to the kitchen, and enveloped Josh from behind, resting his chest against Josh’s back. “Hey.” He nuzzled Josh’s hair.

  “Hey yourself.”

  Josh slid the pancakes from the pan onto a plate, then turned in Ian’s arms to face him. “The table’s over there.”

  Ian ignored him. “So.”

  “So?”

  “So who ran into the ER all by his lonesome to tend to little ol’ me?”

  “Oh.” A blush warmed Josh’s fair skin. “Shut up.”

  “Seriously, how did you feel?”

  “At the time, I couldn’t think of anything but you.”

  “Awww.” Ian kissed his temple.

  “Cut it out.” Josh squirmed and tried to pull away—but not hard enough to actually slip out of Ian’s arms.

  “And now?”

  “Now?” Another blush washed his cheeks. “I feel stupid.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I . . . What was I so afraid of? I don’t understand.”

  Ian rested his forehead against Josh’s for a moment and then drew back to look at him. “You were viciously attacked. Why wouldn’t it take you a few months, a year, a couple of years to get past that?”

  “I guess.”

  “So what are you saying? You’re not afraid anymore?”

  “I’m not sure. I’d have to go back to see. I was kind of distracted at the time.”

  Ian’s heart thumped as dread blossomed in his stomach. He wanted that for Josh—to have him back doing the work he loved—but there was a risk to that. Josh might win back his joy in helping others, but Ian could lose Josh in the process. He hid his fear. “Are you missing it?”

  “I guess.” He turned back to the stove, then paused with a wistful smile. “Sometimes it was such a rush.” He glanced at Ian. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  Ian nodded, mute.

  “Not only the energy of a busy night,” Josh went on, “but the folks you meet. So many different cultures and languages. And the people who would just walk in off the streets—God, you never knew what you were going to get. Something different every night. Hell, every hour.”

  Ian had always known Josh would go back to work in an ER one day—but that wasn’t the Naples ER he was describing. It was New York.

  “Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes stinging a little. “It’s a rush.”

  Josh reached for the plate. “Pancakes are getting cold.”

  The round table was situated not far from the sliding glass door overlooking the marina. Ian eased himself into one of the chairs and then peered out past the partially closed vertical blinds.

  “Do you want them open?”

  The sun was so bright, but the view . . . “Sure.” He wanted to see it. He was used to looking at the water in the morning. This wasn’t his view of the gulf, but it was nice enough.

  Josh pulled the blinds all the way to the side, and Ian winced.

  “Are you sure you want it open?”

  “My head feels better today. My arm bothers me more.”

  “Pain pill?”

  “Not now. I don’t want to go back to sleep.”

  “Some acetaminophen, then.”

  At Ian’s nod, Josh brought him acetaminophen and tea and damned if that didn’t make him feel like a little old lady or something. Still, it was Josh being super nice to him, so that was okay. Even if it was only out of pity.

  They started on the pancakes and fruit. Ian ate a little plain pancake, but mostly he watched as Josh slathered on butter, poured maple syrup, sipped his coffee.

  The silence stretched on. Ian couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re not yelling? You’re not giving me a hard time? Not gonna ask about Tully and the fire?”

  Josh studied him. “Do you want me to yell at you?”

  “My head hurts enough as it is.”

  Josh took another thoughtful swallow of his coffee. “Lucia told me about Tully. She thinks he was with George the night he tried to break in. Surely you weren’t surprised that he came back?”

  Ian almost liked the yelly Josh better than this cool, sensible version. “No,” he admitted. “Not surprised he came back. But did I expect the idiot to be smoking while he was throwing alcohol on the floor? Hell no.”

  The cool veneer started to crack as Josh’s voice rose. “What if he’d had a gun? What if—”

  “What if I hadn’t shown up at all? Tully might be dead. He was flying so high, I don’t think he ever noticed the fire.”

  “God.” Josh rubbed his eyes. He looked beat: from worry, from lack of sleep.

  “There are a lot of what-ifs, not just at the clinic, but in everything else I do.” When Josh dropped his hand to the table, Ian took it. �
�I’m a paramedic. Every callout is a risk.”

  “I know that.” Josh leaned forward, his grip tightening. “It’s not about risk. It’s about unnecessary risk.”

  “Okay.” Ian released Josh’s hand and then gingerly rubbed the lump on his own skull. “I get it. You don’t have to clobber me over the head to make me see sense.”

  A reluctant smile twisted Josh’s mouth. “God, you’re something else.” Then he said hesitantly, “Do you . . . Do you think the clinic . . .”

  What little appetite Ian had promptly fled. He’d been doing his best to avoid thinking about it. He rubbed his temples, feeling ill enough without dwelling on that worry.

  “Sorry,” Josh added. “You don’t need to deal with this right now.”

  “Can the clinic survive? I don’t know,” Ian said quietly. “All those supplies, the repairs . . . It depends on how much the insurance pays out.”

  Josh cleared his throat. “Look, I need to tell you about—”

  The headache started throbbing in time to his pulse. Ian leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. “It seems like one setback after another. I just don’t . . . When is that acetaminophen gonna kick in?”

  “You should have taken a pain pill. Go back to bed and I’ll bring you one as soon as it’s time.”

  “It’s . . . What is it? Wednesday? Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “I rescheduled my appointments.”

  “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “You have a concussion. You’re not supposed to be alone. Come on.” Josh rose and walked with him back to the bedroom.

  The next time Ian woke, it was to the fragrant smell of chicken soup as Josh brought it in on a tray. “Got you some lunch.” Josh sat the tray on the bedside table. “How are you feeling?”

  Ian took inventory. “Better.”

  “Good.”

  He managed most of the soup and a few crackers. When he was done, Josh took the tray and then came back into the bedroom.

  Josh sat on the edge of the bed after Ian was settled under the covers again. “You need anything else?”

  “You.” Ian patted the bed. At Josh’s raised brow, he said, “Lie down with me for a few minutes.”

  Josh stretched out on his side facing Ian, his head propped on his hand. “Your voice sounds better.”

  “My throat’s not as sore.” Ian studied him. “I appreciate you letting me stay here. Why did you?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that same question.”

  “Ouch.”

  Josh sighed. “I’ve been feeling guilty over the way I cut you off that morning. I should have given you a chance to explain.”

  “No,” Ian said instantly. “You have nothing to be sorry for. That was all my stupidity. Not deliberate though, I swear. We were having such a good night, and I thought there would be time . . .”

  “You knew how I felt, that’s the thing. I told you about the attack.”

  “I’m not like that guy who attacked you. I never was. It didn’t occur to me that you would put us in the same category.”

  “Why not? How would I know?”

  “Because you know me.”

  “Ian.” Josh’s exasperated sigh sounded much the same as Lucia’s. Or his mother’s. Or that of every teacher Ian had ever had. “We’d seen each other a handful of times.”

  “I know, and I know you think I move too fast.”

  “You do, but I get it. When you see something you want, you go after it.” He placed his palm over Ian’s heart. Ian felt the warmth through his thin T-shirt. “And when you see someone who needs help, you don’t hesitate.”

  “See?” Ian smiled a little smugly. “You do know me. It doesn’t take long, I promise. I’m not that complicated.” He hooked a hand around the back of Josh’s neck and brushed their lips together.

  Josh stiffened in surprise. But hell, Josh was touching him. What had he expected to happen? Ian licked along the seam of Josh’s lips, asking for entry, ready to back off if Josh pulled away. But then Josh relaxed, opening for him, letting their tongues play together. An electric thrill shot through Ian, and he let his hands wander down Josh’s back in long, firm strokes.

  Admittedly, he wasn’t exactly bringing his A game right now, but it was enough to leave them both breathless and clinging.

  “Hmm.” Josh pushed his face against Ian’s shoulder. “Good.”

  Oh yeah. He’d reduced the man to monosyllables. He kneaded Josh’s nape and then pulled up his head for another long kiss.

  They finally broke apart, and Josh let his head fall on Ian’s chest again.

  Ian rubbed Josh’s side idly. “I could do this all day.”

  “Could you?” Josh lifted his head and looked at him inquiringly. “See, we both think I know you and then bam. You say something like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “I thought you’d be itching to get back out there. All impatient about being stuck here. Worried about your clinic and ready to take care of business.”

  “I am. All of that. But I’m laid up. I mean, I can’t help anyone right now. I can barely help myself. Plus, I’m here with you. This is like a vacation.”

  “Are you insane?” Josh shot up. “You’ve been concussed and burned. This is your idea of a vacation?”

  Ian grinned. “I’m in a fancy condo by the water, and I’ve got a cute guy waiting on me hand and foot. What’s not a vacation?”

  Instead of rolling his eyes or laughing, Josh turned thoughtful. “Maybe it is a vacation for you. You said it yourself. For once, you’re off the hook. It’s not your fault if you can’t help.”

  Huh. Had he said that?

  Josh sat cross-legged on the bed, facing him with a serious expression.

  Ian pushed himself up and leaned back against the headboard. He didn’t want to be lying down for this.

  “Is that what the drugs were for?” Josh asked. “Because you could never help enough people? I know you didn’t take opiates, so it had to be something to keep you going. You said you were in bad shape after you got out of the Army. Was that when it started?”

  “While I was still in.”

  “I thought the Army kept a close eye on drug abuse. Testing all the time and all that.”

  “They do. But you can get away with a lot when you’re a medic and the person giving you the Dexedrine is an Army doctor.”

  “What? How— Just tell me.”

  God, he wasn’t up for this. His headache was coming back. He wanted to go to sleep, but Josh was staring at him with wide eyes, and really . . . Josh was listening. Josh had given him a second chance, so Ian needed to suck it up.

  “I was a medic, did a couple of tours. Saved some people, lost some.” He paused, remembering.

  “That’s the way it goes,” Josh said gently. “You do what you can.”

  “Yeah. But sometimes . . . Hell, you know this. The shifts where you’re up for twelve hours? Twenty-four hours?”

  “Not without a break. Usually.”

  “On a mission, there is no break. You’re up, it’s constant. Days at a time. You get tired, your brain can’t function. I lost—lost one I shouldn’t have. I don’t think I should have. A guy in my unit. He had a wife, a new baby . . .”

  Josh took his hand and Ian wound their fingers together, taking comfort in the sure grip.

  When Ian thought he could speak again without his voice shaking, he continued. “When I got back from that mission, I reported in at the hospital, talked to one of the doctors there. He was a good-looking guy. Older than me and married. He seemed so smart, like he knew all the answers. He prescribed the Dexedrine. They do give it for short-term missions when they think it’s necessary. I took it the next time we went out, and it was awesome.” Josh winced a little and Ian shrugged. “Sorry, but it was. You wouldn’t believe how fast I was, how efficient.” A wave of longing came and went.

  “But . . .” Josh prompted.

  “But,” Ian agreed. “E
verything comes with a price. Oh, not right away. The doc renewed my scrip, and each time I saw him, we’d sit and talk for hours. After a while, we found better things to do than talk.”

  “The person you said you were seeing in the Army? The one who got out before you?”

  “I fell for him, and I thought he felt the same. But then his time was up, and he was gone. I felt like such an idiot, believing he could be interested in me.” He looked away. “But that wasn’t the worst of it.”

  “Of course not.” Josh jumped off the bed and paced the room. “Son of a bitch. He got you addicted and then dumped you? What a—a—”

  Despite the sense of shame that still followed him all these years later, Ian had to admit it warmed his heart to see Josh so outraged on his behalf.

  After Josh had taken a few more passes around the room, he slowed and then sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you get in trouble? Get kicked out?”

  “No. I had a bit left on my scrip, and only a couple of months before my tour ended. The last few weeks were rough, no lie, but I scraped by on the pills I had, on caffeine pills, on any upper I could find. You wouldn’t believe how many Red Bulls I could drink.”

  “And when you got out, you came home?”

  “Yep, and I got the job at EMS. I was functioning, but using anything I could find over the counter. It wasn’t enough.” This was the hard part. “I worked a lot. I needed . . . I don’t know. I needed a pick-me-up, and there was a guy at work who watched me come crashing down after too many diet pills. He said he had something better, so I bought from him. But then I’d crash, and I started missing shifts. Tommy wasn’t my partner then, but he and Lucia were married. He noticed, and told Lucia.”

  “And that was that?” Josh was nodding. “They made you get your act together.”

  Aw, come on. He had to know better. Ian pointed at his own chest and pronounced succinctly, “Addict, remember? Hell no.”

  “Oh.” Josh took a deep breath. “Then what?”

  “Obviously, if I was crashing too soon, I needed better drugs.”

  “Obviously,” he said faintly.