According to Design

by Nicole Dennis

  Finding the sign for Bay Three, Wyatt stayed by the door. He didn’t want to push his luck. A gasp left him at the sight of a pale and quiet Keegan on the gurney.

  A dark-haired doctor in a white coat turned his head at the soft sound. The doctor spoke to a nurse then headed toward Wyatt. “Hello, Wyatt, it’s good to see you again. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  “Same here, Doc.”

  Elliott held out a hand.

  Wyatt rubbed one hand on his jeans and shook. After observing how this doctor had taken such gentle care with Patrick on his last day, Wyatt knew Keegan was in the best hands. “Sorry, I ran out of my studio when my nephew told me something happened to Keegan. How is he?”

  “Are you his partner?”

  “Truth?”

  Elliott lifted an eyebrow.

  “I’m hoping to become his partner. He’s new to town. He moved here back in August, I think, to work for the sheriff and the high school. We connected back then and are dating. Please, other than calling the sheriff here, I’m the closest he has to someone local,” Wyatt said.

  “I see. He mentioned your name so that’s why I gave permission. Plus, I remember how you kept Jeremy and the others calm. I figured you would do the same here,” Elliott said. He glanced over his shoulder then back to Wyatt.

  “Can you tell me what is happening to him?”

  “It’s a form of PTSD, not unlike what you hear soldiers coming home with from the wars. I’m not sure what triggered the event. Keegan remains in shock and lost in the disorder. All he said was your name.”

  Wyatt leaned to the side to peer around the slightly taller doctor.

  “Do you know anything about his history?” Elliott asked.

  Wyatt shook his head. “I haven’t pushed him since he pales when I mention the past, but something brought him to Shore Breeze.”

  “I don’t think that something was a good event.” Elliott raised an electronic tablet and touched the screen.

  “Do you have online records?”

  “Finally, but only for a few patients. The records room is gradually moving things to the new system so it takes time. New surgery and ER patients have priority. I requested any records to be found,” Elliott said. “We stabilized his vitals, but I must wait for answers. It’ll have to come from him.”

  “Could I sit with him?”

  “Sure. The nurses will come in and out to check on things, but sit with him and let him know you’re there. Follow…” Elliott stopped when he really studied Wyatt’s appearance. “This isn’t going to do. You’re rather grubby. Follow me to a washing station. I’ll have a nurse get you a scrub shirt to wear instead of yours. If you don’t mind.”

  Wyatt realized how dirty his outfit had become during his morning’s work. “Not at all. However I can help you and Keegan, I’ll do it.”

  “Follow me then,” Elliott said and led Wyatt through the department, pointed him to a room and spoke with a nurse. He turned to Wyatt. “Drop your shirt and pants in the bag. Keep your shoes, but put on the booties. There’s a special soap, scrub cloth and towels. Scrub whatever you can reach, but concentrate on your face, hands and upper body. The nurse will get you a scrub outfit to wear.”

  Wyatt stepped inside. The curtain rings screeched along the metal bar. He stripped, placed his phone and wallet on a shelf, then stuffed his clothes in a plastic bag. He left his shoes to the side as he scrubbed himself down until the water ran clear. When he got out, he rubbed his body dry with multiple towels then wrapped one around his waist.

  “Mr. McBride, here are the scrubs requested by Doctor Sheffield,” a female nurse said.

  Wyatt poked out of the curtain and smiled. He held out one hand to accept them. “Where are the booties for my shoes?”

  The nurse went to a drawer and pulled out a pair. She set them on the shelf.

  “Thanks!”

  Alone again, Wyatt dragged a towel through his hair to dry it. He tossed everything in one of the laundry bins. With the room cleaned, he sat to step back into his shoes then pulled the paper booties over them. When he’d finished everything, he grabbed the bag with his clothes, wallet and phone and twitched back the curtain with a free hand. He returned to the main hallway and spotted Doc Elliott in the crowd.

  “Ahh, much better. Follow me,” Elliott said as he led the way again.

  “There is clean skin under all the dust, I need to unearth it once in a while,” Wyatt said.

  “You own Fire Glass Studio, correct?”

  “Yes, I work with multiple media like glass, clay and steel products. By the end of the day, smoke, soot, metal filings and a truckload of sweat covers me. Not the cleanest of places to work.”

  “It’s beautiful work. I keep telling Jude we’ll need to have some in our home,” Elliott said.

  “Did you finally convince him to move in together?”

  “I’m working on it. He wants to stay in his villa, but I want a home for us. I know why he wants to stick close since he doesn’t drive, but even with my crazy hours, I’m going to be with him.” Elliott shrugged. “We’re still talking.”

  “At least you’re talking.”

  “Stubborn flower man of mine. I adore him, though. Jude told me about the memorial and how lovely it was. I wish I was there, but I was on call and didn’t think it would be appropriate. Even when Jude called to tell me you wanted me there, I apologize but I chose to remain here out of respect,” Elliott said as he stopped and faced Wyatt by Keegan’s room.

  Tired of talking about the memorial since it caused all kinds of emotions to flutter in his mind and he needed to concentrate on Keegan, Wyatt remained quiet. He glanced inside the room. Only a single nurse stayed at Keegan’s bedside.

  Wyatt looked back at the doctor. “Anything I should be worried about?”

  “The machines will alert us if anything changes. Just talk to him, help him come around from the trigger and ground him back to reality. It’ll take time.”

  With a nod, Wyatt entered the room, dropping his bag and things on a table in the corner. He gave the nurse a shy smile as he lowered himself into the visitor’s chair and clasped Keegan’s hand. “Hey, Kee, it’s Wyatt. I’m here. You’re not alone,” he said in a low tone. He used his other hand to sweep back some of Keegan’s hair from the pale face. “I’m here, Keegan.”

  All he could do now was wait for Keegan.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Unknown sounds and voices pulled Keegan from the darkness and fear. Underneath, weaving through like a beacon to follow, was a familiar voice. It was someone he knew and could trust not to hurt him.

  “I know you can hear me, Keegan, I know you’re there. I feel your fingers twitching against mine. Come on, Kee, wake up and show me your beautiful eyes.”

  Wyatt. Wyatt’s calling to me. Why is he asking me to wake up? What happened?

  With those questions, and concerned by Wyatt’s worried tone, Keegan worked to open his eyes. He blinked multiple times to clear them and turned his head. The pillow under his head was thin, not like the one at home. The sheets were rougher against his skin. They weren’t the jersey-cotton ones he favored.

  Forgetting about the discomfort, he saw a haggard Wyatt sitting next to him, dressed in a horrible pale green outfit. Wyatt’s hair stood up at all odds and ends as if he’d continued to run his fingers through the locks. His face was scrubbed clean, but the blond growth of beard covered his jaw. When Keegan opened his mouth to talk, it felt like it was full of cotton. Since he couldn’t speak for a moment, he squeezed Wyatt’s hand.

  Wyatt lifted his head and smiled at him. Keegan thought it was the most brilliant sight.

  “Keegan, you’re back. Oh, thank God, you’re back. I was so worried when you wouldn’t wake up.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed Keegan’s knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

  Keegan smacked his lips.

  “Oh, wait, you need something to drink, right?”

  Keegan grimaced when he smacke
d his lips again.

  “Hold on a moment.” Wyatt released their hands. He picked up a pink pitcher and turned a straw to face Keegan. “Slow sips. Just a few. We don’t want to upset your stomach.”

  Keegan stretched his neck so he could get the straw with his mouth and gratefully sucked a few mouthfuls of cool water. He released the straw, sighed in relief, then took a few more sips to remove the rest of the cottony feeling. “Ahh. Better,” he said in a rough, croak-style voice.

  “Are you good for now?”

  “Yeah,” Keegan said. Wyatt set the pitcher to the side. When Wyatt retook his seat, Keegan held his hand out to make sure Wyatt took it again. “What happened? Where am I?”

  “I’m not sure what happened. The paramedics were with you when I got to the café with Collin. You’re in the emergency department at Shore Breeze Clinic. Doctor Sheffield is taking care of you.”

  “Why am I here? I finished work at the lab, attended a meeting at school and went to the café for something to eat,” Keegan said.

  “I think I can answer the rest,” someone else said.

  Keegan moved his gaze. A doctor entered the room with a tablet computer in one hand. “Are you Doctor Sheffield?”

  “The one and only. Elliott Sheffield. It’s good to meet you, Keegan. May I call you that?” Elliott stopped by the bedside.

  “What’s happening to me?”

  “Something triggered a PTSD episode and your body and mind shut down to protect itself. Diane, the waitress at Minstrel, had someone call nine-one-one and the paramedics brought you here as protocol. You arrived in a precarious condition and wouldn’t respond to our queries.” While he spoke, Elliott pulled over another chair and sat.

  “PTSD…” Keegan trailed off as he thought about the afternoon and what had happened.

  The email. Dwayne.

  “Whoa there. Hold up a minute. Don’t go back to the trigger,” Elliott said, placing the tablet down and getting to his feet. He watched the monitors and Keegan’s face.

  “Keegan, no, Keegan, stay with me. Keegan, look at me,” Wyatt said.

  Dwayne. He found me. No. I can’t…

  “Keegan, please, look at me,” Wyatt said.

  When fingers tapped his cheeks, Keegan blinked and moved his gaze to find Wyatt and Elliott hovering over him.

  “Okay. Never saw a trigger work that fast. It’s an odd reaction,” Elliott said.

  “A doctor saying it’s odd. That’s bad,” Wyatt said. “Keegan, hon, talk to me.”

  “Here. I’m here. Sorry,” Keegan said in a low shaky tone.

  “I take it you know what happened to cause all this,” Elliott said.

  “Yes. Something that happened to me before I moved here,” Keegan said.

  “Should I leave and let you talk to the doctor alone?” Wyatt asked.

  Keegan shook his head. “No, stay with me, please, Wyatt. I don’t want to explain it again. If we want things to go further between us, I want you to know everything.”

  “Whatever you wish, Keegan. I have no plans to leave,” Wyatt said.

  The doctor sat back down and motioned for Wyatt to do the same. “Can you tell me?”

  Keegan licked his lower lip. He tried to put his thoughts in order without slipping back into his triggers. His therapist had warned him how he may develop PTSD after what had happened to him. The drugs had messed with his brain chemistry. It would take time to heal the damage done to him. Not to mention all the shit Dwayne had done.

  “Do you have the records regarding my stay at a Raleigh hospital and then a place called Rainbow Refuge, Doctor?” he asked.

  Elliott moved his fingers on the tablet’s screen. “Hold on, yes, they arrived. Give me a moment to catch up.” He concentrated on the screen.

  Keegan glanced at Wyatt while Elliott studied his troubled past. “There’s darkness in my past I never told you, Wyatt. It’s the main reason why I came to Shore Breeze. I wanted to escape the shadows haunting me and find a new start.”

  “No one has a past free of troubles or darkness. It helps define who we are. You’re stronger than your past,” Wyatt said.

  Keegan shook his head. “What the doctor will find is that I had a boyfriend, a narcotics detective, back in Raleigh, where I used to work as a forensics investigator. It was my first position after graduating. I was young, naïve and learning the ropes. As with any relationship, especially between law enforcement folks, we had our good and bad moments. Then I got hurt on the job when a crime scene collapsed on me. It messed up my back. The doctor prescribed me OxyContin and a couple of others for the pain.”

  “Oh shit, that stuff is bad,” Wyatt said.

  “Yeah, but things didn’t go as planned when it came time to wean off the drugs as I finished healing and physical therapy. Instead the drugs kept appearing in the medicine cabinet. My boyfriend encouraged me to continue taking them. I became addicted to them. I kept popping the pills, needing more to push back the pain. Then my boyfriend gave me some amphetamines when I needed to stay alert. I went back and forth between them.”

  “What happened to bring you here?”

  “Things with him became worse, more abusive as he controlled me with the drugs. One night he flipped out and I was on the ground. Thanks to some neighbors who interfered and stopped him, I managed to get to a hospital where my fathers gave me an ultimatum. I keep the addiction and lose everything or I fight back and go to a rehab center. I chose rehab. The department charged my ex with multiple felony charges. He pled guilty because of a deal created by his lawyer and the DA and went to prison. It took me time, but I went through long-term rehab and got my life back to end up here.”

  “You mentioned your fathers. How do you have two dads?”

  “Thanks to an alert science teacher, I was taken from a broken family and became a ward of the state. The teacher and his partner, a forensics detective, ended up fostering me for a while and adopted me. They’re my dads and I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for them. I owe them my life and sanity so many times,” Keegan explained.

  “Sounds like they’re wonderful men.”

  “They’re the best,” Keegan said.

  The doctor finished his reading. “I listened to the conversation and it filled in what I read. No drugs popped up in your system during our tests.”

  “I haven’t taken anything more than over-the-counter headache medication since I left rehab. I’ve been sober for almost two years now. It’ll be two years in November,” Keegan said. “The trigger came from an email sent by my ex. An email to my school address which he wasn’t supposed to know. Thanks to the courts, he shouldn’t get any updated information as to my employment or whereabouts. There is to be absolutely no contact with me.”

  “But you got an email.”

  “It’s on my netbook,” Keegan said and looked around. “Where’s my messenger bag?”

  “Oh shit, I gave it to Collin to watch over. I didn’t think you would need it here,” Wyatt said. “I can call and have him bring it.”

  “Not necessary for this, but you should show it to the sheriff, Keegan,” Elliott said.

  “I’ll do that when I go in for my next shift,” Keegan said. “I read his email at school, somehow got to the café, but my body shut down.”

  “Do you know what can trigger these responses?”

  “Anything with him is the main catalyst, Doctor.”

  “There are a couple of options. You can stay here under observation and talk to a therapist,” Elliott said.

  “Nope, not staying, Doc,” Keegan said with an adamant shake of his head. “What’s the other option?”

  “I’ll release you with orders to speak with your therapist, but I have one more condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ll need to have someone stay with you for at least forty-eight hours. I don’t want you to have another attack and be alone. Luckily, it’s Friday, so you have the weekend off from school, but I want you to not go to your second j
ob, unless it’s an emergency. My preference would be for you to remain in a calm environment,” Elliott said.

  “I live alone,” Keegan said.

  “Then you’re staying here,” Elliott said.

  Keegan withered under Elliott’s insistence.

  “How about my place? I can bring Keegan home with me and watch over him. My nephew and I live in the house and I have room for Keegan. It’s obvious we know one another,” Wyatt offered.

  Keegan’s eyes widened as he stared at Wyatt. “Wyatt, please, you don’t have to.”

  “You stayed the night with me when I needed help. Why should this be any different?” Wyatt shook his head and concentrated on the doctor. “What do you say, Doctor Sheffield? Can Keegan stay with me?”

  “Calm environment would mean no sexual activity,” Elliott added.

  Keegan’s face flushed and a similar redness appeared on Wyatt’s cheeks. “We’re…umm…not quite at that stage in our relationship, but good point.”

  “Awkward as hell,” Wyatt muttered.

  Elliott chuckled and held up his hands. “Sorry. My bad. Part of being a doc. Jude hates it when I do that to him after his blood sugar dips too low for my liking.”

  “Other than the no sex issue, can Keegan stay with me?” Wyatt asked, pushing past the embarrassment.

  “I can release him to your care,” Elliott said.

  “Thank you,” Keegan said, grateful to get out of the hospital.

  “I’ll go and deal with the paperwork. Keegan, please get in touch with your therapist. I want an update from you or your doctor. By next Friday, please.” Elliott rose with the tablet in hand.

  “Okay.”

  With a nod, Elliott headed to the door. “Release procedures takes about a half-hour to an hour, depending on the craziness around here. It’s not going to happen soon. Just a warning,” he said then left them alone.

  “So…” Keegan drawled and looked at Wyatt. “What now?”