Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Jonas

I'd eaten more hospital food in the last two decades than anyone else I knew, to the point where I'd learned to cook in self-defense, but I'd never had a salad quite so pale and lifeless as this one. I gave up after a couple of bites and pushed my tray away in favor of pulling out my phone.

"Kids blowing up your phone?" Denver asked, looking up from the terrible excuse for a chicken sandwich and waffle fries he'd ordered.

"Yeah." I scrolled through my messages, chest all warm at the number of unread ones. I was missed. "Wren can't find the cooling rack for cookies or the powdered sugar."

"The cooling rack is in the drawer under the oven." Denver had moved on to unwrapping a large chocolate chip cookie. Despite living in the carriage house with Sean, Denver cooked in the main house several times a week, usually with Wren. "Powdered sugar is in the pantry, upper left."

"Damn, you're good." I typed a fast reply, including a reminder to use potholders to take the cookies out of the oven.

"I try." Denver blew across his knuckles, making us both chuckle. It had been a long few days. We needed all the laughs we could get.

"Rowan can't find his lucky drama club shirt for some audition." I continued to scroll though my messages. "Not this year's shirt, but the one from two years ago."

"That I can't help with." Denver shook his head. "He's a senior and president of the drama club. Tell him he doesn't need luck. Get out there and break a leg."

"Will do. And I'll remind him he looks better in glitter anyway." I sent the message before going to one from his sister. "And Maren is predictably stressed about her biochemistry final."

"Definitely not helping there. My grades were… Well, the less said, the better." Denver waved a hand before taking a decisive bite of his cookie. "What's up with her and that Diesel kid?"

"That's a question." I glanced down at my phone like it might have the answer. Ever since Maren's friend Diesel had been injured while hiking during the summer, she'd been visiting way more often from college. Of all the kids, I was probably closest to Maren, but she'd been tight-lipped every time Diesel's name came up. "And she's not exactly talking. But she's knitting him a hat for Christmas, so make your own guess there."

"So glad I'm not a teen navigating romance and friendships anymore." Denver shuddered, then pulled his corduroy jacket closer. The frosty weather meant drafty hospital corridors. We'd all packed in such a hurry that we were making do with odds and ends. I was wearing an old T-shirt of Denver's, jeans that were more days old than I cared to admit, and an ancient zip front hoodie with the Mount Hope Hospital logo. Across the cafeteria, a trio of nurses in scrubs waited for their food orders. I had more than enough leave banked, but I was starting to miss work. And simpler fashion choices.

"Couldn't pay me to be a teen again," I agreed with Denver. He was relatively new to our friendship group by way of dating Sean, and I liked that Denver hadn't known me back when we'd all been at community college together. I'd been in my late teens and a hot mess in more ways than one. "Anyway, I should probably decide whether I'm driving back on my own or leaving my SUV with you and Sean and flying back." I changed the subject before he could ask about my younger years. "Now that Declan's moved out of ICU and Sean's parents are on the way, I'm not as needed."

Declan had done so well overnight that the medical staff had decided to move him to the PCU. The progressive care unit was a step toward a general surgical recovery floor, although Declan still had several milestones to meet before discharge. My nursing instincts told me he'd likely need a stay in a rehabilitation unit as well, but that was a future bridge to cross. Right now, he and Sean needed to take things one day, heck, one hour, at a time.

"You're always needed, but I know what you're saying. You need to get back." Denver collected all our trash on his tray before dumping it into a nearby trash can.

"Good riddance to that salad." I looked longingly at the frozen yogurt machine, but I'd already eaten too many sweets this week. "And yeah. I've been checking in with work and Eric the whole time, but I'm ready for my own bed and my dog. And I want to save some leave in case someone else needs my help down the line."

"Or you could live a little. Take a vacation. Never heard of you taking a day off, let alone a trip." Denver led the way out of the cafeteria.

"I'm on a trip right now."

"Hardly what I meant." Denver's tone was affable. He wasn't the argumentative type, even when he was right. "And having your car is handy, but we can always rent one. Maybe we should get Sean's opinion before you decide."

"Okay," I agreed as he hit the elevator button to take us back up to the PCU floor, where we'd left Sean visiting with Declan and an entourage of racing folks. News that Declan was awake had spread quickly, and most of the people who had clogged the waiting room the first day were back. To my mind, there were too many of them, all in motocross sweatshirts and with a vested interest in hurrying Declan right back to the track.

Indeed, as we exited the elevator, we almost ran into a clump of them outside Declan's PCU room.

"We need a firmer timeline." A slick younger man in a black suit zipped up a leather laptop bag as he spoke with two men in motocross-branded apparel. He looked to be the executive or PR type, fresh out of an MBA program or similar, and I dearly wanted to be the one to tell him that head injuries never adhered to anyone's timeline.

"The tour just ended, Miles. It's almost the holidays. We can give him some time." A middle-aged man with a Southern accent and a snaggle-toothed smile hooked his fingers through his belt loops.

"Not enough." Miles kept up his clipped tone.

"We'll bring Cyrus on board in the meantime." Another fifty-something guy pulled out his phone. I'd watched some motocross with Sean over the years, and I was pretty sure this guy was one of the heads of the premier team Declan raced for. "We can get him up to speed before the season opens in March."

"Declan should be ready then." The Southern guy waved a thick finger at the other two. "He deserves better than you calling up his replacement while he remains in a hospital bed."

"Exactly, Joey." The team guy had a more patient tone than Miles, Mr. MBA, but the level of condensation in his tone made my neck prickle. "We have no idea how long Declan is going to be out. This vision nonsense is troubling. He won't pass concussion protocol anytime soon."

"Come on. We need to make our flight." Miles led the way past us toward the elevators, shiny loafers squeaking on the polished floor.

After they left, Denver darted into a nearby restroom, and I waited in the hall outside Declan's room because I could hear a nurse talking to Sean and Declan, and I didn't want to intrude. However, before Denver returned, the nurse and Sean exited the room.

Waving at Sean, I stepped closer. "Hey. How you holding up?"

"Amazing." Sean smiled. He still wore rumpled clothes, but he'd showered, shaved, and combed his red hair. "No, seriously, it's always funny how much difference a full night's sleep makes."

"Yep. Maybe listening to Denver and me about going to the hotel was a good thing?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sean offered up a sheepish look. "You were right. I feel like a new man, and Declan's doing great on this new floor. Continued improvement and no new signs of bleeding, which is a relief."

"Absolutely."

"Now, if we could only get Declan to rest like you strong-armed me." Sean stretched his arms out. The plastic visitor chairs in this place really were the devil on middle-aged bones. "I keep telling him to sleep, but Declan says he can't. He also keeps refusing more pain meds. Stubborn."

"Like you." I gave Sean a pointed look before chuckling. "You want me to give him the sort of lecture I gave you?"

"Actually, maybe." Sean shrugged. "He was asking about you."

"He was?" And why my pulse suddenly sped up I had no clue.

"Yeah. He wanted to know more about our drive here, and I told him what a rockstar chauffeur you were."

"It was more about having a car with four-wheel drive." I glanced down at my hiking boots, which doubled as winter boots with flannel insulation.

"Still. You're better at mountain driving than Denver or I." Sean clapped me on the back. He wasn't wrong. Those who learned to drive in rural Utah tended to be more weather-savvy than most. "Anyway, Declan also mentioned some book you were reading. Something about a cat?"

"A book in this new mystery series I'm into." My cheeks heated because my friends were always teasing me about my taste in books and movies. "Maybe you need a break? If you track down Denver and go get some decent, non-hospital food, I'll lecture Declan into resting. If that doesn't work, I'll read in a monotone until he falls asleep."

"You do that." Laughing, Sean lightly pushed me toward Declan's door. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

This was hardly the time to mention my imminent departure, so I embraced my task of getting Declan to sleep and left Sean to find Denver and, hopefully, some better-quality chow.

"Hey, Declan." I adjusted the blinds and lowered the lights as I entered his room. He'd continued to complain about light sensitivity, but other visitors and nurses kept turning the lights up.

"Oh, thank God. I can't figure out the lights on this thing at all." Declan held up the bedside controller at an awkward angle. His right wrist was the sprained one, but his left still had the IV.

"What's this I hear about you not sleeping?" I put my hands on my hips and stared him down, but he simply laughed.

"Dad got to you, didn't he?" Declan gave a small cough as if laughing had hurt, and it undoubtedly had, what with his rib injury and all.

"He's worried about you. I'm told it's a dad's job." I settled into the visitor's chair near his bed.

"You don't have kids?"

"Nope." I shook my head, trying to sound as ambivalent as possible. "Married twice, no kids. I live with our other friend Eric, though, like your dad did before he moved to the carriage house. I help with Eric's teens."

"How'd you manage two divorces?" Declan frowned, studying me like I might have sprouted an extra eye. "That bad at picking chicks?"

I had to laugh because he was hardly alone in that assumption. "One really patient woman who didn't deserve my closeted ass. One narcissistic dude whom my friends assure me I didn't deserve. And that was that."

"Oh." Declan pursed his lips. "You're gay."

My laughter evaporated. "Problem?"

"No. It's cool." Declan was rather clearly lying. He added a dismissive wave, but I wasn't buying it. He grimaced as he lowered his hand again. "Ow. Gotta remember not to do that. Stupid IV. And stupid headache. Didn't mean to sound rude. Everything hurts. That's why I'm not sleeping."

"They gave you a pain pump." I pointed to the button the nursing staff had placed near his right side. "Use it."

"Nah. I'm tougher than that." Declan's chin took on a stubborn tilt exactly like Sean's.

"There's no awards for gritting out your discomfort." I took his right hand and gently guided it toward the button, mindful of his IV. He had nice hands, big for his height, muscled and callused from all his motocross training. Not that I had any business noticing. "The body needs rest to heal. The more rest, the quicker you'll heal."

"I don't wanna get too used to lying around or dependent on pills."

"Is substance abuse a real concern?" Eyes narrowing, I glanced over at the door. "Confidentially? I won't mention it to your dad, but the nursing staff might want to know?—"

"No. Not like that." Declan released a pained groan. "I mean, I drink. I party. But I don't have a problem. I just don't want a problem. Does that make sense?"

"I get it." I sat back in the chair and pulled out my phone. "But you need to rest."

"What are you doing?" He frowned, looking for all the world like an injured prince, entitled to my full attention. "You gonna sit here and play on your phone?"

"No, Your Highness." I kind of dug his attitude, not that I was ever telling him that. If he wasn't my best friend's son… Nope. Couldn't even let the brain head down that track. "I believe you requested more of my mystery book." I clicked my e-book app open. "I'm gonna make you a bargain. I'll read you the next chapter or so until you fall asleep if you'll hit your pain pump button to try to get some relief. Staying ahead of the pain will help, trust me."

"Okay." Declan let out a royal huff before finally pressing the pain pump button. "Begin. Please."

And so I began to read aloud, trying like hell to remember who Declan was and why I couldn't enjoy his company, even temporarily. God, I hoped he fell asleep, and quick.