Anna Martin's First Love Box Set: Signs - Bright Young Things - Five Times My Best Friend Kissed Me

by Anna Martin

  It was a grim, dark winter day, with the clouds hanging so low they blocked out almost all natural light and a grayish drizzle falling from the sky.

  Evan worked steadily, lost in the zone of graphic novel backgrounds. It was familiar work and engaging, meaning he often lost hours at a time to the repetitive task. His iPhone was hooked to the small stereo system he’d set up in the studio, and he listened to a Harry Potter audiobook while his wrist grew sore from inking.

  The first time his phone rang, Evan ignored it and took the interruption as an opportunity to use the bathroom and refresh his mug of coffee. His little house was toasty warm, thanks to the good heating he’d spent a fortune getting installed. He was grateful for it now.

  The phone rang again just after he got settled, and Evan got up from his desk in a fit of frustration, barely looking at the name on the readout before answering.

  “Tom.”

  “Hi, Evan,” he said.

  “Everything okay?”

  “It’s… shit, Evan. It’s Scott.”

  And the world fell out from underneath him.

  “Tell me. Is he okay?”

  “He’s in the hospital. Here in Chicago. I just got here with Mom. Lacey’s on her way now with Dad and Anthony. They had to get a later flight.”

  “Shit, Tom, is he okay?” Evan demanded.

  “He’s contracted meningitis,” Scott said. “But it’s given him septicemia too, and he’s in a pretty bad way. He asked for you.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “Evan….”

  “Don’t,” Evan said, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “Just… don’t. I’ll pack my bag, and I’ll let you know when I’m at the airport. I’ll get the first flight out there.”

  “The weather here is pretty shitty, so you might not be able to get one until tomorrow. I’ll phone a couple of airlines, see when something is available.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  “We only got here a few hours ago,” Tom said, and Evan heard the exhaustion in his voice for the first time. “We didn’t want to bring everyone out until we knew what the situation was.”

  “Is he… is he going to… shit, Tom.”

  “They don’t know,” Tom said, answering the question Evan was too terrified to ask. “He’s in critical condition right now.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell him that for me?”

  “Sure,” Tom said and ended the call.

  Evan took two slow, deep breaths, calming the terror in his belly, then bolted to the bathroom.

  He ended up stuck in Norfolk Airport for almost six hours, waiting for a flight to be cleared to take off for O’Hare. For a long time, he paced, alternating between checking his phone for updates every few minutes and turning it off to conserve the battery.

  He’d only packed hand luggage, so the little suitcase was wheeled behind him as he walked up and down the length of the terminal.

  “You’re going to wear a path into the carpet.”

  Evan looked up sharply and blinked at the woman. She was calmly knitting, the thick dark red yarn slowly turning into a sweater while she too waited for her flight. At least she was managing to do something productive.

  “Sorry,” Evan muttered, not really sure what he was apologizing for.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, moving her purse to clear a seat for him. It seemed rude not to sit down now, so he did.

  “Not really. My best friend is in the hospital. They’re not sure if he’s going to make it.”

  “That’s hard. I’m sorry.”

  Evan shook his head. “I just want to be there.”

  “You will.”

  “Maybe not soon enough.”

  “When did you find out?”

  “Couple hours ago. I came straight here.”

  “Then you did all you could.”

  That was what Evan had been playing in his head, over and over, as he paced. All of this would be for nothing if he didn’t actually get there. If Scott died… if he died and Evan never got to say good-bye….

  “Don’t do it,” the woman said, not looking at Evan as she looped her yarn around thick wooden knitting needles.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Play the what-if game. It won’t help.”

  “Well, not much else is helping right now. It couldn’t possibly get much worse.”

  “Look,” she said, nodding toward the departure gate. It looked like something was finally happening. The attendants who had been sitting there, as bored as everyone else, were now moving, firing up the computers.

  His eyes felt gritty and sore, like he’d been concentrating on something a little too hard. “Oh thank God,” he sighed and tipped his head back.

  Tom was waiting at the entrance to the hospital when Evan pulled up in a taxi. Scott’s brother looked almost as bad as Evan felt. Tom was tall, like Scott, and had the same dark hair. He’d grown a beard and looked good for it.

  Evan hadn’t quite been prepared for how cold it would be here. He’d visited Chicago before, but in the fall when the city had been bright and fresh. He had grabbed his winter jacket as he left his house, the one that was fine for the coldest weather in North Carolina. It was definitely not suitable for a Chicago winter. The cab driver had seemingly taken pity on him and cranked up the heat when Evan slid into the cab.

  Evan passed the driver his credit card to swipe, not wanting to think how much the journey had cost him, and grabbed his suitcase before rushing over to where Tom was huddled against the cold.

  “How is he?” Evan asked and let himself be pulled into a hard embrace.

  “Holding steady,” Tom said. “He’s sleeping a lot, but he seems to be lucid when he’s waking up in between. I told him you were on your way.”

  “Sorry it took so long. They weren’t letting any flights depart for Chicago.”

  Tom huddled them inside and led Evan over to a bank of elevators. “Dad had the same issue. It’s okay.”

  It suddenly occurred to Evan that he wasn’t family, that he had no reasonable claim to be allowed to sit at Scott’s bedside. “Are they even going to let me in?”

  “Got that covered too,” Tom said with a grim smile, pushing the button for the third floor. “Mom already told the nurses that her third son was on his way, traveling separate from the rest of the family because of where he lives. Congratulations, you’re an honorary Sparrow.”

  Evan chuckled softly. “I always did love your mom.”

  “She loves you too. And she called yours, by the way, to let her know what was going on. I didn’t realize they’re still such good friends.”

  Evan nodded and closed his eyes. It was almost ten hours since he’d gotten the call from Tom, and he was starting to feel exhausted.

  “We’re going to have to play nice,” Tom said softly as they walked down a long hallway lined with wards on either side. “Visiting hours are technically over, so they might not want to let us in.”

  Evan nodded. “Okay.”

  “My mom and Lacey already went to book us all into hotel rooms for the night, since we definitely can’t stay here. Dad and Anthony are with him now, but we should be able to trade with them.”

  It took a few minutes of sweet-talking and wrangling, but Tom had obviously made friends with the nurse on duty, who agreed to let them through as long as Evan behaved himself. She looked him over with a pinched frown, taking in his sandy blond hair and gray eyes and tanned skin, so different from the Sparrow kids’ dark hair and blue eyes. Still, she let him through, and Evan breathed a little easier.

  “He’s asleep,” Mr. Sparrow said softly, rising as Evan tugged his suitcase over the threshold to Scott’s room. “It’s good to see you, Evan.”

  Evan let himself be pulled into one of the strong hugs he associated with the Sparrow men. They weren’t afraid to show affection. It was a strange comfort, to be held by a father figure while he felt his world shaking on its axis.

  “We’ll give you some space,” Anth
ony said.

  “Thanks,” Evan murmured, shaking Anthony’s hand firmly before moving over to Scott’s bed.

  Scott looked like hell. His skin had a sickly pallor, grayish and too pale, and his features seemed sunken. There were IV drips in both his hands and an oxygen tube around his face, the little tubes stuck into his nostrils.

  “We’ll be outside,” Tom said, clasping Evan’s shoulder and squeezing it before he left.

  For long moments, all Evan could do was look at the man in the bed, looking like an echo of the one he’d loved for so long. This wasn’t his Scott. This was some other Scott, one he wanted to trade back in for the real version.

  It eventually occurred to him to sit down, and he shuffled around the bed to the padded chair in the corner of the room. The seat was wide enough for Evan to be able to tuck his feet up, and he wrapped his arms around his knees so he could bury his face in them and cry and cry and cry.

  It was a few hours before Scott woke. With the nurses on his side, reluctantly agreeing to let Evan stay as long as he was quiet, Evan had fallen into a fitful sort of exhausted sleep, unable to really let himself rest. There was a soft shuffling from the bed next to him, and Evan stretched, looking over as Scott blinked awake.

  “You came,” he croaked.

  “You asked for me.”

  “Yeah,” Scott said, then coughed. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

  “Okay?” Evan asked.

  “I’m dying, Evan.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I am,” he insisted. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave without seeing you again. I wanted to kiss you one last time.”

  Evan pressed his forehead to the starchy sheet next to Scott’s hip and forced himself to not cry again. After a second, Scott’s hand brushed through his hair.

  “Evan. Let me kiss you.”

  “No,” Evan croaked. “No. I’m not saying good-bye. I’m not going to let you give up.”

  He looked up, straightening his back, and felt his heart crack again. Scott looked so, so weak.

  “Please, Evan.”

  “No. You’re going to get better, and you’re going to walk out of this hospital, and then I’ll kiss you again.”

  “But what if—”

  “There is no what if. I’m not letting you go. So you better fucking fight, Cap. This is for us, now.”

  Scott nodded, and Evan tried not to focus on the tears slipping down his best friend’s cheek.

  “Okay.”

  “Go back to sleep,” Evan murmured, taking his hand and brushing his lips over it. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  Scott didn’t say anything, just drifted away.

  The next time Evan woke, it wasn’t because there was a crick in his neck. The door to Scott’s room burst open and several people rushed in and someone shoved him out of the way as they adjusted Scott’s bed so he was lying flat.

  They—the nurses—were all talking too quickly, and he didn’t understand, but something seemed to be wrong, and monitors were beeping, and no… no….

  “Scott,” Evan gasped, and one of the male nurses pushed him back.

  “Stay out of the way,” he said, voice hard. “Let them work.”

  “I didn’t… he wanted, and I wouldn’t let him….”

  The nurse turned away, back to Scott, and all Evan could do was stand with his back to the wall, palms flat against the rough paint, and pray to a God he didn’t believe in.

  It took a lifetime, but eventually one of the nurses, a small Hispanic woman with her hair tied back in a severe bun, stepped back and nodded.

  “He’s stabilizing.”

  Evan felt his body crumpling, and he slid down the wall, shaking.

  “Come on,” the male nurse said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “I can’t leave him.”

  “He’s okay. They’ve got him back.”

  “Did he…?”

  “No. It was close. They’re going to have to adjust his medication. And you need sugar or something for shock. Trust me. I’m a nurse.”

  Evan allowed himself to be hauled to his feet and dragged out of Scott’s room, feeling like something was incredibly wrong with the situation.

  “Brothers?” the nurse asked when they were out in the hallway, the fluorescent lights too harsh, too white for Evan’s tired eyes.

  “We’re close,” he said grimly.

  The nurse huffed a laugh. “Andre.”

  “Evan.”

  “Come on.”

  There was a small kitchen to the side of the nurse’s station Evan had passed earlier. The clock on the wall told him it was a little after three in the morning. He wondered vaguely where the others were and decided not to ask.

  Andre immediately went to an electric kettle and filled it with water, then set it on to boil.

  “Tea? It’ll be better for your nerves than coffee.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  “You can take a seat,” Andre said, gesturing to a few soft chairs gathered around a coffee table. There was a young female nurse napping in one of them; Evan took a seat as far away from her as possible.

  “Is it okay for me to be in here?” Evan asked.

  “No one will mind.”

  “Okay.”

  Andre caught him glancing back out at the hallway. He could just see the door to Scott’s room from this angle.

  “He’ll be okay now,” Andre said.

  “What happened?”

  “His heart rate dropped dramatically. Probably because of the infection. They’ll need to up his antibiotics again now. He’s a fighter.”

  “I told him he had to fight.”

  “It’s not easy. I’ve seen enough people come through this ward. It’s easier to let go.”

  “I gave him something to fight for earlier. Or so I thought.”

  Andre set a mug of hot tea on the coffee table in front of him, and Evan nodded his thanks.

  “Sometimes that’s enough, sometimes it isn’t. Where are you from?”

  “Virginia Beach. Scott lives here now, though.”

  “This is one of the best hospitals in the country, Evan. I can promise you we’ll look after him. You should probably go and get some rest, though.”

  “I’ll stay here, if it’s okay with you,” Evan said, shaking his head and sipping his tea. It was sweet. “Until the others get back.”

  “Okay. I’m not going to kick you out.”

  “Thanks.”

  And so this became Evan’s life for the following days. He slept in fits and bursts, sometimes in the motel room Scott’s dad had rented for him, sometimes in the chair in Scott’s room or on the floor. Sometimes in the nurse’s break room, when Andre was there to let him in.

  He watched Scott get sicker, then a little better. Scott’s progress was patchy, and Evan quickly learned not to get his hopes up. Scott hadn’t asked to kiss him again. No one in Scott’s family said anything about Evan’s sudden dedication to sticking close to his side.

  Three days after Scott’s crash, he woke up lucid for the first time. Evan had been working on his iPad and quickly closed it to rush to Scott’s side when he sat up and looked frantically around.

  “It’s okay,” Evan said, his voice low and soothing. “You’re in the hospital.”

  “Oh,” Scott croaked and collapsed back against the pillows.

  Evan gently stroked Scott’s dark hair back from his face. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay. I think.”

  “You don’t need to sugarcoat it for me.”

  Scott frowned, like he was thinking hard. “No, I’m okay. Better.”

  “The nurses say you’re doing better,” Evan said, still stroking his hand over Scott’s head. “Your body is fighting the infection, which is why you’re so tired. But you are fighting it.”

  “What else did they say?”

  “Well, you’re going to feel like crap for a while longer. But they’re upgrading your status from ‘seriou
s’ to ‘fair,’ which means you might move onto a bigger ward soon.”

  “How long till I get out of here?”

  “Probably another week, at least.”

  Scott leaned back against the pillows and took a few slow breaths. Evan thought he might be falling asleep again until Scott reached out and gripped his leg.

  “Will you do me a favor?” he asked, voice low, eyes still closed.

  “Of course.”

  “I, uh… I have a cat. My mom said one of the neighbors from my building’s residents association has been checking in on her. But she likes to be fussed over, and I’m worried.”

  “Of course,” Evan said softly. “I don’t mind.”

  “Just spend some time with her. And play with her a bit.”

  “Okay. What’s her name?”

  Scott was quiet, and Evan couldn’t help but panic just a bit. “Scott?”

  “Princess,” Scott said, and Evan was almost relieved to see the faint flush of color in his cheeks. “It was a nickname. I guess it stuck.”

  Evan let out a barking laugh, suddenly aware of how long it had been since he’d laughed last. “You named your cat Princess,” he teased softly.

  “Yeah. Shut up.”

  “I’ll go see her,” Evan promised. “You sleep now.”

  “Okay,” Scott said and closed his eyes.

  It took some organizing for Evan to get hold of Scott’s apartment keys and make his way across town to the apartment block where Scott had lived for three years, according to the terrifying gatekeeper Evan met at the front door. Since all of Scott’s family lived far away, he’d named one of his friends in Chicago as his emergency contact on his lease. That meant Gordon needed to clear Evan to go into the apartment, and he worked late hours at the same financial services company Scott worked for.

  “Fourth floor,” the doorman said as Evan explained the situation. “Apartment 404.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Evan said, attempting a little Southern charm. He was apparently unswayed.

  The building was clearly converted from something else into apartments. The ceilings were high and the staircase wide—wider than it would be if it were a new building. There was an elevator, but Evan decided to take the stairs and get a miniworkout.