Chapter 2

TWO

WillShepherd walked down the corridor of Greater Kensington Hospital with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. Everything had been coming up roses for him so far in the new year. Granted, the new year was only a week old, but so far, he’d spent a lovely New Year’s Eve with friends, he’d managed to score tickets to the Ealing Eels match that coming weekend, and he’d actually won fifty pounds on the scratch-off lottery ticket his mum had put in his stocking for Christmas.

On top of that, he’d aced the interview for the new Chief of Therapy position that he’d had a few days before. That was the source of the smile Will wore as he waved to one of the nurses at the desk as he left the Physical Therapy wing of the hospital and headed around the corner to the administrative offices.

As far as Will was concerned, the Chief of Therapy position had been created for him. As far back as he could remember, since the accident that had landed his little brother, Brandon, in a wheelchair, Will had had a passion for helping those with severe injury and trauma. He’d known right from the first after Brandon’s accident that he was born to be the man in charge of helping people get well again. It was so much more than just a job to him, it was a passion, a calling.

He’d expressed all of those sentiments and more to his boss, Dr. Glover, during his interview on Thursday. Now it was Monday, and as he approached Glover’s office, he felt the thrill of everything he’d ever wanted about to be handed to him.

“Good morning, Will,” Glover’s admin greeted him with a wide smile. “You’re looking well today. You have a good weekend?”

“A brilliant one, thanks, Janice, and you?” Will asked, being polite. He was too anxious to stand around making small-talk with Janice, but he liked the older woman, so he would be polite.

“Oh, you know,” Janice answered. “I had the grandchildren ’round, which is always a treat. But you don’t want to hear my stories.”

Will smiled at her and said, “You know I love your stories.”

It was lip service, since both he and Janice both had heard Glover get up from his desk through the open door to his office and come to the door.

“Ah, Will, you’re here. Excellent,” Glover said, then gestured. “Come in and have a seat.”

Will practically bounced into the office, hardly noting the way Glover shut the door behind him. His heart felt light as a feather in anticipation of what Glover would have to say.

“Please, be seated,” Glover said, nodding to the chair in front of his desk as he walked around to take a seat behind it. Will sat as Glover went on with, “I’m sure you’re eager to hear the decision of the hiring committee for the Chief of Therapy position.”

“I am, sir,” Will said, all smiles. “And I can assure you that I am ready to rise to whatever challenges you present me with.”

Glover’s smile was a little too tight as he took his seat and pulled his chair farther into his desk. Will didn’t like the way he leaned his elbows on his desk and stared at him for a moment either.

“We’ve decided to go in a different direction,” Glover said at last.

The words hit Will like white noise, short-circuiting his brain and causing an awkward, disjointed feeling within him. His smile started to melt like some sort of cartoon character who had been hit in the head with a shovel. He finally managed to say, “I beg your pardon?”

Glover’s look turned sympathetic, and he fixed Will with a paternal smile. “I know that you wanted this job,” he said, “and it was a difficult decision on the part of the hiring committee. You truly were one of the two best candidates for the position. But in the end, the committee felt as though Dr. Armitage’s experience and qualifications are the better fit for the duties of the position. We felt as though your excellence when it comes to hands-on care of patients learning to cope with spinal cord injuries is where you truly shine, and that confining you to an office would be a sin.”

Will heard the compliment in Glover’s words. He really did. But utter chaos reigned inside of him. It felt as though he’d slammed hard into the walls of his expectations and was reeling under the worst sort of cognitive dissonance he’d ever experienced.

“I see,” he said, trying not to squirm in his chair as he fought his urge to get up and run, slamming the door behind him.

Will wanted to shout at Glover that he was an idiot and passing him over for the promotion was a sin. He wanted to give Glover the finger and tell him that the hospital was all just some boys’ club where friends gave each other the leg up, whether they deserved it or not. He wanted to flip over Glover’s desk or punch a hole in his wall…but all of those things were not only ridiculous, they would have been entirely uncalled for.

“Armitage is a good man,” he said, nodding slowly. “He has seniority, and, you’re right, he will do very well in the position. He’ll make a good boss.”

Sometimes being an adult sucked.

Glover smiled. “I’m glad you see it that way,” he said. “And this is not the end of the road for you by any means. We’ve decided to give you a small raise, and we do hope that you’ll apply again, when and if other positions such as this one become available. You know that it is GKH’s greatest desire to become one of the foremost rehabilitation hospitals in London, if not all of England. We very much wish to have you on our team as we go forward with that mission.”

“Thank you, sir,” Will said. He felt very much like a flaccid balloon that had lost its air and could only just lie there, deflated.

An awkward silence followed before Glover said, “Do you have any other questions for me?”

Will blinked at him. He couldn’t think of a damned thing. “No, sir.”

Glover smiled. “Then I’ve no wish to keep you from your rounds. You are one of our top-rated therapists, and you belong in the field.”

Somehow, Will managed a smile as he stood. “Thank you, sir.”

He slipped away from the desk and headed for the office door, unaware as to whether Glover sent him off with any other words of encouragement or goodbye. He was barely able to acknowledge a smiling and sympathetic Janice as he walked out of the office. It seemed somehow unfair and disingenuous of her to have smiled at him and indulged his excitement earlier when she must have known that he was about to be disappointed.

The world seemed strangely disjointed in the wake of the meeting. Will headed toward the breakroom, needing a minute before he checked in at the nurse’s station to see what his rotation would be for the day. Everything that he’d thought the day would bring, hell, everything he thought his life would be going forward, had just been brought to a screeching, crashing halt, and he wasn’t entirely certain what to do with himself now.

That question was answered immediately as he reached the breakroom by his phone ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out of his scrubs, saw that it was Brandon calling, and answered the call with a wince.

“So?” Brandon asked right off the bat. “Did you get the job? Am I speaking to the new Chief of Therapy?”

There was something exceptionally and unexpectedly bitter about answering the little brother who idolized and whom Will adored in return by saying, “No. They decided to go in another direction.”

“They what?” Brandon yelped, throwing all the indignant emotion into his words that Will hadn’t been able to. “What the fuck is wrong with them? You are far and away the best candidate for the job.”

Will sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand before moving to sit in one of the stiff armchairs in the far corner of the room, near the window. “Apparently, they feel as though Dr. Armitage is a better fit for the position,” he said, trying not to grumble or whine. Not getting the job he wanted—desperately, passionately, with every fiber of his being—was not an excuse to behave like a spoiled toddler.

“That old geezer?” Brandon scoffed. “He is not. He probably already has one foot in the grave, and they want to entrust him with the entire department?”

“Armitage is fifty-five,” Will said, forcing himself to play devil’s advocate, when what he really wanted to do was grouse right along with his brother. “He’s got more experience than me. And besides, Glover says that the hiring committee feels as though my talents are best used in hands-on caring for patients, not behind a desk.”

There was a small pause before Brandon said, “Well, that’s true. You are ace with patients.”

Will huffed a bitter laugh for his brother’s reluctant compliment. “I am good with people,” he said. “But I don’t want to be stuck in the field forever. Life is all about advancement, right?”

“Right,” Brandon agreed, though there was a hint of hesitation in his tone.

Two nurses walked into the room, chatting happily, and made their way over to the coffee machine, so Will lowered his voice and leaned forward in his chair, sprawling a little and resting his elbows on his knees, as he went on with, “I don’t want to end up trapped in one role for the rest of my life. You know that. I am good at my job, but shouldn’t I take that talent and use it to run the department?”

“You absolutely should, mate,” Brandon said. “And it’s absolute shite that they’ve denied you that opportunity. Are you anywhere near the parking garage? Could you key someone’s car to show them you mean business?”

Despite everything, Will laughed out loud at his brother’s joke, earning him a pair of smiles from the nurses at the other end of the room. “I think I can contain my fury enough so that I don’t have to resort to vandalism,” he said.

“Good,” Brandon said. “Because it’s a long way from Hammersmith to GKH, and my arms would get fucking tired before I made it there to post your bail.”

Will laughed again, more grateful for his little brother than he could comprehend. With all the shit Brandon had been through since his accident twenty years ago, he had never lost his sense of humor, or his protectiveness for Will. The feeling was definitely mutual.

Will was about to say more, but Armitage himself walked into the break room, looking like he was on a mission. He spotted Will, then headed across the room.

“Gotta go, bro,” Will said. “The man himself has just walked in the room.”

“Ooh,” Brendan said. “Let the brawl begin.”

They said quick goodbyes, then Will stood, tucking his phone back into his scrubs, so that he was ready when Armitage reached him.

“Good morning, Will,” Armitage said with a smile that managed to be friendly and fatherly and apologetic all at the same time. “I hear you had your meeting with Glover.”

Will smiled tightly and held out his hand. “Congratulations,” he said, shaking Armitage’s hand. “You couldn’t deserve it more.”

“I was surprised they didn’t give it to you,” Armitage said, still looking just a little contrite. “That isn’t why I’ve come looking for you, though.”

“Oh?” Will wanted to stay bitter and resentful, but there was just enough of a spark in Armitage’s eyes to interest him.

“Yes,” Armitage said. “I have a new patient for you.”

Will blinked. Being assigned a new patient wasn’t unusual, but something about the way Armitage was asking, the slight zip of tension in his expression, had Will itching to know more.

Especially when Armitage glanced subtly over his shoulder at the two nurses, who had moved to sit at the table to drink their coffee.

Armitage moved subtly closer to Will when he turned back and said, “I’m asking you to take this patient as a favor for the Brotherhood.”

Will’s eyes popped open a little. “The Brotherhood?”

He was a member, yes, but he usually stuck to the periphery. He wasn’t the sort to go to swanky parties or to patronize clubs. He’d found the Brotherhood to be fantastic for professional networking, and he maintained his membership so that he could attend special dinners and social events for younger members in the medical field.

He hadn’t realized Armitage was a member. He’d only had a vague idea that Armitage was gay. And he definitely hadn’t realized that Armitage knew he was a member.

“Walk with me and I’ll explain,” Armitage said, trying to pretend he wasn’t whisking Will out of the room so as to avoid the nurses eavesdropping.

Once they were halfway down the hall, heading back toward the therapy ward, Armitage launched into the story. “Do you know Oakley Manfred at all?” he asked.

Will shrugged. “I know the name. He’s a member of the Brotherhood too, isn’t he? And some sort of billionaire real estate mogul?”

Armitage nodded. “Right on both accounts. And on New Year’s Eve, he was thrown from his car when it hit a patch of ice. He survived the crash, and miraculously, he didn’t have any serious head injuries, just a concussion.”

“Wow, you’re shitting me,” Will said, immediately cursing himself for swearing in front of the man who was now, essentially, his boss.

“God only knows how he managed,” Armitage said. “But he also sustained severe trauma to his spine. He has an incomplete injury to the L1 vertebrae with severe compression. Surgery removed the possibility of bone fragments causing greater injury.”

Will let out a low whistle. “So he didn’t walk away scot-free,” he said.

Armitage sent him a serious look. “He isn’t walking away much of anywhere for the foreseeable future.”

“Not with an L1 injury,” Will agreed. “I take it there’s no sign that the compression will go down and what I assume is paralysis below the waist isn’t showing any signs of diminishing.”

“You assume correctly,” Armitage said as they turned a corner onto one of the rehab hallways, then slowed down. “You know as well as I do that anything could happen, be it a day from now, a month from now, or a year from now. And the scans all show that it isn’t a complete fracture and the spinal cord isn’t severed. But so far, it’s not looking good.” He paused near a doorway to one of the larger, fancier suites, then said in a hush, “Mr. Manfred isn’t handling it well. He’s already been through two physical therapists, and it’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but it’s only been a week,” Will said.

Then again, he dealt with spinal cord injuries every day and had done so for nearly ten years. What was everyday and routine to him was catastrophically life-changing for Mr. Manfred. Almost all of the patients he’d treated over the years had gone through the usual stages of grief over what amounted to losing the body they had and getting one that didn’t work the way they were used to in return.

That didn’t mean their lives were over, though. Brandon was proof enough of that, as far as Will was concerned, and Brandon’s injury had been much higher up his spine. And even Brandon would be the first to tell a newly injured patient that other people had it worse than them.

“So you want me to take Mr. Manfred on as a patient,” Will said. “Even though he’s belligerent and bitter about his injury?”

“You’re the best we have, Will,” Armitage said, resting a hand on Will’s arm. “And I think having another member of the Brotherhood work with him will enable Mr. Manfred to warm up to you and work with you.”

“What, because we’re both gay and he might think I’m cute?” Will asked, arching one eyebrow, but only half joking. There was something insulting about the implication, if he was honest.

“No,” Armitage said with slightly exaggerated patience. “Because Mr. Manfred respects the Brotherhood and is active in the organization. It’s something familiar that will provide continuity for him in a time when everything in his life will be changing against his will. That connection to the Brotherhood could end up being a much needed anchor for him.”

Will immediately felt like an arse. “Of course,” he said, lowering his head a bit. It was more than a little painful to say, but he lifted his eyes to Armitage and admitted, “I guess this is why they gave you the promotion instead of me,” with a sheepish smile.

Armitage returned that smile with a genuine, respectful one. “You’re a good man, Will,” he said, slapping Will’s arm, then gesturing for him to continue to the room. “I think you’ll do well with this assignment.” He reached over to the tray beside the closed door, taking out the tablet that rested there and tapping it to life. “Here you go, and good luck.”

Will took the tablet and studied it for a moment as Armitage walked off. It seemed a bit odd that Armitage wouldn’t take him in and introduce him, but Will figured there was a reason for that. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to be pleased with the faith Armitage was showing in him. And honestly, he was a professional. He would have taken whatever patient Armitage thought was right for him. He was just having an off day after everything he’d thought his life would be had dissolved before his eyes.

Will knocked on the open room door, then said, “Good morning,” and headed in. “And how are you today, Mr. Manfred?”

He was met by the sight of a battered, bruised, and bandaged man who, according to the chart, was thirty-seven, lying in bed and staring deliberately away from the open window. Unlike any of the emergency or trauma wards, Mr. Manfred was not surrounded by beeping machines or IV drips, which was a good sign that his recovery was progressing well.

Another man who bore a resemblance to Mr. Manfred, but with a distressed, anxious expression, faced out toward the window. Will instantly had the feeling that the man was Mr. Manfred’s brother, and that they’d been arguing.

That guess seemed to prove right when Mr. Manfred turned his head toward Will, glared, and said, “Bloody Christ, another one. Can’t you people just leave me alone for a change? I’m sick of this. Just go away.”

Will clenched his jaw and glared right back at Mr. Manfred. It was the wrong day and the wrong time for a patient to snap at him.

“I’m here to help you,” he snapped right back.

“Well, you can just fuck off back to where you came from,” Mr. Manfred growled.

Great, Will thought with a scowl. Armitage was having a go at him after all. Because a patient like Oakley Manfred was the very last thing he needed on top of everything else.