Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jonas

"He's sleeping." I glanced over at the bed where Declan had been snoozing for a little less than an hour while I handled some emails and work-related tasks on my phone.

"Thank goodness he finally got some rest." Sean followed the neurologist and two medical students into the room. As I vacated the chair so Sean would have a place to sit, Sean motioned at the doctor and his underlings. "Maybe we should do this later? Let him sleep a little longer?"

Sean knew as well as I did that doctors never wanted to delay their rounds, but it didn't hurt to make the request. However, before the doctor could answer, Declan groaned and stretched slightly.

"It's okay." His voice was rough with sleep, and that, plus his sleep-creased expression, made me unusually protective. I wanted to herd the whole group out of the room. "I'm awake." Declan blinked his eyes open a few times, taking in the crowd. "Gee. The crew's all here, huh?"

"It's a crowd for sure." I migrated to the wall closest to the door. "I'll step outside."

"I didn't mean you leaving." Declan glared at me, so I stayed right where I was.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Murphy?" The doctor was likely in his mid-sixties. He'd been the one to operate. Declan was lucky to have someone with his experience and steady hands, but the doctor's officious bedside manner left something to be desired.

"He's Mr. Murphy." Declan jerked his thumb in Sean's direction. "I'm Declan. And I'd be a hell of a lot better if I could sleep in a real bed. One without beeping monitors. And if you had a cure for the headaches."

"Unfortunately, I can't offer either of those things yet." Despite his words, the doctor's tone wasn't particularly sympathetic. "However, we do need to discuss next steps. You're making good progress, but you're going to need some intensive inpatient rehabilitation—both physical and occupational therapy—before you're able to go home. And then continued PT and OT after you're released from the rehab unit."

"Don't exactly have a home at the moment." Declan sounded as gloomy as he had when he'd seen his messages about Cyrus being called up to train in his place. I'd already been irked on his behalf, but his team delivering the news via text had left me livid. It was a wonder I'd managed to resume reading after that and no surprise that Declan's mood had yet to recover. "In the off-season, I've been training at our team compound and staying in a trailer there, but they'll probably give my trailer to one of the other riders. Hell, they likely already have. Fucking vultures."

"Language," Sean said like Declan wasn't well past twenty-one. Once a dad, always a dad, but Sean's hovering clearly wasn't sitting well with Declan, who shot his father a withering look. "Rural Arizona isn't exactly near any big rehabilitation centers," Sean continued as if he hadn't noticed Declan's rising ire. "Can we transfer him to Portland or possibly Mount Hope?"

"I'm right here, Dad." Declan sounded about five seconds from losing his remaining cool. "Would anyone like my opinion?"

"Certainly." The doctor turned back toward him. "Where would you like to continue treatment, Mr. M—Declan? Salt Lake has several great facilities for rehab, although patients tend to do better when closer to their support system, and I don't like the idea of you living alone, even after the rehabilitation center."

"Gah." Declan made a loud, frustrated noise that landed square in my chest. Hands flexing, I stepped closer to the bed, not sure how I could help, but I hated seeing him so upset.

"If you rehab in Oregon, the family can come see you, then you can stay with Denver and me for the outpatient stuff." Sean leaned forward in the chair as he renewed his bid for Oregon. "Or stay with my folks?—"

"Absolutely no offense, Dad, but your place lacks doors. Privacy much?" Declan referenced the tiny carriage house where Sean and Denver currently lived with their two cats. Declan wasn't kidding about it being crowded if he stayed there. "And Grandma's collectibles freak me out. Not staying there. Mom's not in Seattle anymore, and my Seattle high school friends have moved on with their lives. Hell if I know where to go. I don't wanna burden my racing connections. An apartment somewhere? Maybe?"

As he deliberated aloud, Declan became more visibly agitated, pale skin flushing, limbs moving restlessly against his blankets, and voice turning more frustrated, bordering on angry. I understood the feeling of needing to go somewhere and having no clue where more than he'd ever know. And the desire not to obligate friends. Lord, how I knew that dance. Requiring help was the absolute worst.

"I have an idea." I stepped around the medical students and stooped to meet Declan's gaze. "Our friend Tony is moving in with his boyfriend, Caleb. That will free up the first-floor primary bedroom in the big house with Eric, the kids, and me. I live in the basement there. You could take over the empty first-floor room."

Declan's mouth twisted. "I don't want to impose on anyone else."

"You wouldn't be." I pitched my voice to be as reassuring as possible. "You'd be helping by being a new renter for Eric. The extra income would help with the teens, I'm sure. And you'd have more independence than staying with family, but be close by for your dad to visit."

"And help," Sean added a bit too eagerly, making Declan groan.

I held up a hand before Declan could argue with Sean. "And you'd have people other than your dad around to help as well. You are going to require some assistance, but there's no need for that to fall all to one person. You'd have me, the teens, Eric, etc."

"I hate that I need help period." Declan's chiseled jaw jutted out, and perversely, his stubborn expression only made him that much more attractive. I seriously needed to stop noticing him, but the more I tried to shove my awareness away, the more the attraction grew.

"I know." I resisted the urge to pat his shoulder.

Declan exhaled hard, then coughed. "I suppose Jonas's idea isn't the worst plan."

"Excellent. That's settled then." The doctor was clearly ready to move along, probably already thinking ahead to the next patient. "I'll check on your progress tomorrow."

"Wait." Declan frowned, blue eyes narrowing. "When do I get to try walking? Using the bathroom on my own? Any chance of leaving this bed?"

"You athletes are always in such a hurry." The doctor's patronizing tone did nothing to soothe Declan. Indeed, Declan's stony glare only deepened as the doctor continued, "Let's try some time in the recliner first." He pointed to the large chair in the corner. Such chairs were a fixture on post-surgical wards as a way to get patients upright. "We'll see how you do without the catheter. Then, we can see where you're at as far as mobility. Get PT in here with some crutches or a walker."

"I guess that's something." Declan gave a reluctant shrug as the doctor and his students exited the room.

"I should get started looking for Portland or Mount Hope rehabilitation centers with TBI experience that might have openings." Sean stood, vacating the smaller visitor's chair near the bed. "But I can wait until after the nurse comes in to remove the catheter. I'll help you get settled in the recliner."

"Dad. Go." Declan's expression turned decidedly irritated, color still high on his cheeks and mouth pursed. "Please. Go do your research. Jonas can help the nurse."

"I guess that works." Sean cast me an uncertain glance. I nodded, hoping I didn't look too eager to be alone with Declan again. Sean stooped to kiss the top of Declan's head before exiting the room.

"Sorry." Declan adjusted the angle of his hospital bed with his uninjured hand so he was more able to meet my gaze as I settled back into the plastic chair. "I didn't mean to volunteer you for more helping. You've done a lot already. But if Dad took charge of one more thing, I was gonna scream."

"Trust me, I understand. I hate being managed too."

"Yes, exactly." He nodded, offering the ghost of a smile. "At least you never talk about me like I'm not in the room."

"I try."

"It's okay if you need a break though. I'm sure the nurse can handle getting me moved." Declan made a shooing motion with his hand, but I stayed put. "It's not like I get to actually go anywhere."

"The nurses are short-staffed, and you're not a tiny guy. Plus, you have casts to maneuver." I made my tone reasonable, hiding my vested interest in sticking around. "I can help. Nothing I haven't done before."

I was lying, a fact made clear once the overworked young nurse and nursing assistant came in to help Declan. Nothing about this situation felt familiar. With my own patients, I could care and care deeply, but I didn't wince when they winced or feel physical pain when they groaned. With Declan, though, things felt so much more personal. I understood Sean's urge to hover because I also wanted to protect Declan.

I stepped outside briefly to give him privacy while the nursing staff handled the catheter and got his IV and gown situated for the short trek to the chair, but I heard his "Ow" all the way to my soul. I hurried back into the room in time to help support his injured side as the four of us hobbled the couple of steps to the recliner.

"Okay. Okay. I've got this." Declan huffed and puffed like he was on an uphill climb at the end of a marathon. He kept blinking, likely because he was lightheaded, not that he'd admit it, and I breathed easier once he was settled in the recliner, blankets around his waist, IV nearby, and table positioned so he could reach his water jug. It was a whole production, and Declan let his head fall back against the chair as the nurses left the room. "Why do I feel like I just finished a week at nationals? All I did was move three feet."

"Give it time." I dragged the visitor's chair over next to the recliner. For the first time, we were face to face, a fact that shouldn't have made a difference yet changed everything. Despite the hospital gown and pale complexion, Declan was unquestionably an adult male, hint of reddish chest hair and all. Not a kid, not my patient, not a relative. A man . A dude whose company I was coming to enjoy far, far too much, so I tried to make my tone more academic, less personal. "Your strength will come back."

"If I have to hear another variation of give it time, I'm gonna scream." Declan glared at me before softening his expression. "Sorry. I'm being whiney again."

"And I keep telling you, it's okay. Whine away. I don't mind listening." That was an understatement, but I needed to keep more distance between us.

"I'd rather listen to more of our book than complain." And then he said our, and all my noble intentions went poof.

"Oh? It's our book now?" I scooted my chair closer as I dug out my phone. Keeping him at arm's length had lasted a whole twenty seconds. "You know, if you want, I could come visit when you're at rehab? No obligation if you'd rather I didn't, but I could bring a book."

It was a reckless offer, one I'd undoubtedly regret, but when Declan grinned, none of that mattered. His smile was wide and free, as happy as I'd seen him, and it transformed him from a generically handsome injured guy to the most attractive man I'd seen in a long, long time.

"I like that idea." He continued to beam, and my stomach gave a little quiver.

"So do I." And I liked the idea of him living with us in Eric's house far, far too much. All that nearness? Risky. So risky. Yet I was already counting down to his moving in and more of those hundred-watt smiles.