26. Dane

Alex would've laughed his ass off.

We were called away from our vigil outside the ICU to attend to a fall victim. Of course it was a fall. With Alex in the hospital, it was the only tone appropriate to disturb our peace. Somewhere, deep in his unconscious brain, I was sure my handlebar-faced friend was cackling with glee.

A very sweet, far-too-giggly elderly woman named June had been shuffling her way from her front door to her mailbox when, as she put it, "The sidewalk reached up, grabbed my toe, and pulled me down."

Despite a fractured wrist where she'd braced herself, some nasty scratches, and a few bruises, June was in good health and even better spirits. I couldn't remember a medical call where the person laughed throughout the entire call, but she had. The only time the octogenarian hadn't been giggling was when she was patting my cheek or squeezing my arm or shoulder. I was pretty sure she pretended to be weak just so I had to pick her up and carry her back into her house. Sami had to turn away at one point, a fit of laughter threatening to shatter any professionalism she might've presented while performing her medical checks. When June grabbed my ass and squeezed, I found an ancient recliner, set her in it, and stepped to the far side of the living room.

She winked and gave me a girlish grin.

I blushed more on that call than at any time since I'd first donned my uniform.

"You sure are red, Walkman," Sami teased as we strode back to the truck.

"That woman's hand was a vice. My butt will be sore for a week."

Burton barked a laugh. "I thought you were the one who made butts sore. Have you switched roles? Is there anything you need to tell us?"

Burton had never been prudish, but he was the more religious of our little band, talking often about taking his kids to Sunday school or church on special holidays. To hear him refer to roles in gay sex was almost more than I could take.

"Absolutely not. I'm the pounder, not the poundee."

"So long as you're not a Quarter Pounder."

Sami lost it.

"Great. Comparing my piece to a hamburger. Classy."

Burton's eyes brimmed with tears. "Better than a french fry."

"Stop!" Sami wheezed. "You two, stop, please. I may never be able to eat McDonald's again."

"Gives a whole new meaning to a Happy Meal, doesn't it?" Burton quipped.

Sami squealed so loud that June hobbled onto her porch to see what was going on.

"Can we just get back to the hospital? I feel bad joking like this while Alex is laid up."

That sobered the two of them up. When the last of the truck doors closed, Burton said, "Maybe they'll have good news for us. We've been gone a couple of hours."

A couple of hours was enough for news, good or … the other kind.

Sami kept her eyes forward and didn't speak. I grunted, unsure how to respond.

The massive glass doors of the ER slid open, revealing a waiting room overflowing with the sick and injured. Apparently, a summer flu was working its way through the city and half of Atlanta had decided to seek care at Grady—all at the same time.

We wove through the crowd, careful to keep beyond coughing distance, toward the nurse's station. They would buzz us back to the ICU, probably even send a nurse or guard to escort us.

A hand gripping my arm startled me out of my thoughts. I spun to find Patrick. We'd walked right by him.

"Hey," he said, squeezing my arm before releasing it and glancing around.

"Patrick, hi. You're here."

"Have you met Captain Obvious? He's the best," Sami snarked, then stretched her hand toward Patrick. "You're the AJC guy, right? The one Dane's boning, even though he thinks he's keeping it a secret?"

Patrick's face blazed red as he choked out a cough. The couple seated next to him glared up then moved to empty chairs a row away. Sami cackled and glanced at her hand still empty and hanging in the air before him.

"Uh, yeah." He took her hand and shook. "I'm with the AJC."

Burton stepped around Sam. He was the mature one of our group. Surely he would stand up for me. "So, was that ‘no' to the boning, then?"

"Burton!" My eyes flew wide.

Sami nearly doubled over.

Patrick looked like he wanted to run through the glass doors whether they opened first or not. He looked up at me, a puppy begging its human for any sign of affection.

I shook my head. "Yes, this is what it's like, twenty-four seven."

Patrick smiled, a tiny, awkward thing.

"We just got back from our run. We need to check on Alex. Be right back, okay?"

"He's stable but still in ICU," Patrick blurted, freezing us in our tracks. "I just spoke with the nurse, maybe ten minutes ago."

As if a wave of comforting relief had washed through the waiting room, all three of us released heavy breaths.

"Thank god," Burton said.

"Thank the medical team," Sami countered. "Let's get back there. They might let us see him."

I turned to Burton and Sam. "You two go on up. I'll be there in a minute."

Sami nodded, then an evil grin spread across her face. Her hand rose and she made a very clear, very suggestive motion of shoving something down the back of her throat, over and over. Burton chuckled all the way out of the waiting room.

"Sorry about those two. They're like the idiot cousins who won't stop following you around. You love 'em but wish they'd go away sometimes." I smiled weakly, hoping the only child standing before me would appreciate the reference.

"Uh, right. I see that."

"You been here long?"

He shook his head. "No. I came in and went straight to the nurses' station. The minute they learned I was press, they didn't want to tell me anything. I might've said something about being a friend. Sorry about that."

His head ducked but his eyes remained fixed, looking up through a mop of blond.

I leaned in, as close as I dared in a public space, and whispered, "You are a friend. A very good one."

The smile that parted his lips launched fireworks up my spine. I realized, in that moment, I wanted more of that smile—but this wasn't the time.

"I need to get upstairs. They made an exception to let us up earlier because we're first responders. I doubt they'll let press up there, friend or not."

He nodded. "I'll wait down here."

"You're staying? Out here? Alone?" I cocked my head. Why would he do that?

"Of course I am. You're going through something. I want to be here for you."

I blinked, then blinked again, trying to see if Patrick really was standing in front of me saying such things. The only people I'd ever known to do something like that were family or my team. I'd certainly never dated any guys who'd voluntarily wait around in a hospital full of infectious, snotty, coughing kids just to be there when I came back downstairs, whenever that might be.

I'd always been the protector, the guardian, the strong one on whom everyone else leaned. My dad, my mom, my younger brothers—they all needed me, and I was there. I was our family's rock long before my age said I should be. Every day, I was the foundation for my team, I was their strength and the one who led. Burton was the wise one, but I was who everyone turned to in a crisis.

Maybe I had a thing about control. I don't know. People just turned to me, yielded to my words.

Even in dating, I was in charge. Hell, I took charge once clothes hit the floor—and they only did that when I wanted them to. There was probably some Freudian explanation an army of psychiatrists would enjoy dissecting in that, but still …

I stared into Patrick's eyes, perfect spheres of gray flecked with silver. Nothing hid in his gaze. He wasn't angling for anything, there was no secret motive. This man was here for me. He was being strong so I didn't have to be. He offered to wait so I could tend to my friend, or wait outside while others tended to him, without any expectations or explanations. He would wait for me.

I reached up and brushed the hair off his forehead. His eyes closed as he leaned into my touch.

My heart felt like it might burst. Was I supposed to feel this way? I was beginning to not care. Seeing Patrick made me feel lighter, like I could go upstairs and wait for Alex to recover and the world below would be alright when I returned … because he was waiting for me there.

"Thank you," my swollen heart allowed.

He reached up and grasped my hand, holding it to his face for a moment. "Go. Be with your team. I'll wait for you."

And he did.