by Bru Baker
Nick fought back a hysterical laugh. Drew definitely didn’t look like he had been in any kind of pain.
“I’m, uh, I’m good. Tell him I came by, I guess? Or don’t. Whichever.” Nick tried to smile, but he was sure it looked grim. His instincts were clawing at him, telling him to open that door and storm in and claim what was rightfully his. But Drew wasn’t his. And even if they were dating, which they weren’t, Drew was his own person. He was allowed to change his mind.
This was exactly what Nick had been afraid of. Not Drew falling into another man’s arms, but the differences between them causing problems. Drew might have almost preternatural insight into Were instincts and psyche, but he was human. He didn’t have that overwhelming drive to mate and nest. Love was different for humans, apparently.
“Nick?” Harris asked, his brows drawn together in concern. “Do you need to sit down? I think you’re going into shock or something. I mean, you did just have a gun pointed at you. Maybe you need to take some time.”
Been there, done that. Except this time he didn’t have Drew to nurse him back to health.
“I think I need some water. I’m going to go find the cafeteria.” He looked at Harris. “You should go in. He’ll be happy to see you.”
Chapter Twelve
DREW batted the nurse’s hands away irritably as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“I can do it myself,” he muttered, already breathless from the effort of levering himself up. The nurse had raised the head of the bed to help him, but he felt like he was pulling a ton of bricks behind him as he sat up.
The nurse stopped trying to help but didn’t retreat, still standing there ready to brace him if he fell.
Which he probably would.
Goddammit.
Drew sighed, which sent a wave of pain through his rib cage, and held his hands out, letting the now-smirking nurse anchor him as he made his way slowly to his feet.
“You’re going to need help getting around for the next week, minimum.” The nurse turned to Jackson, who was trying but failing in his attempt not to laugh. “Tomorrow before we discharge him, someone will teach you how to do this. You’ll also probably have to help him to the bathroom, and I’d recommend getting a shower chair until he’s steadier.”
Drew bared his teeth at Jackson in a feral grin. “Unless you want to help me wash my junk. That would be a hoot, wouldn’t it, asshole?”
The nurse laughed. “You angling for a sponge bath?”
Drew laughed and then hissed in pain, his hand shooting up to brace against his broken ribs. “From you? No. Your bedside manner is atrocious.”
The nurse threw his head back and laughed. “Good, cause we’re fresh out of sponges. Now let’s get your IV pole situated so you and I can go for a little walk.”
Drew felt like a puppy. A nurse had been by to walk him every few hours, starting with the morning after his surgery. He’d been here three days and was itching to get outside.
“I don’t suppose we could take a real walk?” he asked hopefully.
“Are you telling me all these laps we’ve done together around the ward are imaginary?” the nurse teased. He shook his head. “We don’t want you to overexert yourself. You need to take things slow or you’ll end up pulling your stitches or worse. I know it’s hard, but taking it slow now will help you recover faster.”
“Remember,” Jackson chimed in, trailing behind them as they left the room. “Your body needs a chance to heal, and it can’t keep up if you push yourself too hard.”
If Drew hadn’t been clinging to the IV pole like a lifeline with one hand and the nurse with the other, he’d flip his brother off. Asshole werewolf, trying to talk like he knew anything about healing.
His bitterness must have shown itself in his scent, because a moment later Jackson cupped the back of his neck with a warm hand, giving him a light squeeze in apology.
Not that he had anything to apologize for. He’d been here every waking minute, getting ice chips, sneaking in fast food, and making sure Drew didn’t climb the walls in boredom. Even his mom and stepdad had headed back home already. They’d left yesterday when it was clear he was on the mend and would make a full recovery.
The one person he really wanted to see was the one who hadn’t come at all. He’d talked to Nick briefly on the phone, but he’d been distant. He’d claimed things were in a big upheaval at the camp, and he needed to stay to be there for the wolflings. Kenya had said something similar, but she’d at least had the decency to make the trip over to Louisville to see him once. Hell, even Adrian and Tate had flown in to see him. They were heading over to camp later that afternoon so Tate could provide on-site counseling for any staffers who were having trouble with the incident.
That would probably include him. A counselor had come by yesterday to talk with him, which apparently was hospital protocol for victims of violent crimes. It was pointless to talk to someone he had to edit himself in front of, so he’d just kept mum and politely declined further sessions.
But he couldn’t talk to Tate about Nick’s disappearing act. Not when he was Nick’s counselor too. That wasn’t fair to anyone.
“Okay, speed racer,” the nurse said as they completed their third lap. “Time to rest.”
Drew didn’t want to admit he was exhausted, so he kept up the pretense of being fine until he was settled back in a comfortable chair in his room. He couldn’t mask the relieved sigh as he got off his feet, though. He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the chair support him.
Jackson clucked his tongue. “Shoulda stopped at two,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’ll check in again in an hour when I bring you your meds,” the nurse said. “If you need to get up or want to move to the bed, ring for one of us, okay?”
Drew nodded and mumbled his thanks. He had no plans to move in the next hour. Possibly the next few.
“You got angsty over something on the walk,” Jackson said as soon as the nurse had left.
Drew cracked open an eye to glare at him. “Keep your nose to yourself.”
“Trust me, I wish I could. Do you have any idea how terrible a place like this smells?” Jackson wrinkled his nose. “The disinfectant alone gives me headaches.”
Drew blew out a careful breath and looked at his stepbrother, studying him critically. He hadn’t thought about what being here must be doing to his super senses. Maybe that was why Nick was staying away?
“You’re doing it again,” Jackson said, pointing at him.
“I’m just thinking about Nick,” Drew admitted sheepishly. “It’s weird he hasn’t been here, isn’t it? I mean, the last thing he said to me was he’d see me soon.”
Jackson’s expression changed to one of panic and then innocence, and Drew’s brother Spidey-sense tingled. He might not have a werewolf nose, but he had a great bullshit detector after growing up with three of them.
“What aren’t you telling me about Nick, Jackson?”
Jackson rubbed a hand over his hair, which was a surefire sign he was uncomfortable. “He did.”
Drew struggled to sit up fully so he could stare down his stepbrother. “What do you mean, ‘he did’?”
“He came with Harris right after you got out of surgery. I totally forgot to tell you. He ducked in to see you for a minute and then ran off like a bat out of hell. I think he just wanted to see you were okay.”
Drew’s heart lurched. He’d hope Nick would want to do a hell of a lot more than that. If their roles were switched, Drew wouldn’t have left Nick’s side for anything. He clenched his teeth and willed himself not to give in to the tears pricking at his eyes. He wasn’t usually this emotional, but the drugs were wreaking havoc on him. He’d cried this morning when they brought a tiny container of brown sugar with his oatmeal. He was not in his right mind.
But Nick was. Nick didn’t have to contend with the pain or the physical limitations or the foggy head from pain meds. And if he’d made the decision not to come see Drew
, that sent a pretty clear statement.
“He said to tell you he came by to see you,” Jackson said, scenting his unhappiness. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you when you get back.”
“No,” Drew said, his voice wavering. “I don’t think so.”
“He was relieved you came out of surgery okay. I was there, Drew. I saw the guy. He looked ready to tear limb from limb to get to you so he could see for himself you were safe.”
Drew made a face. “He’s a decent guy. He was there when I was shot, so you’re right. He probably just wanted to see I was okay.”
“What’s the story with you two anyway?”
Drew almost shrugged until he remembered his stitches and cracked ribs. Shrugging would only bring him a world of pain.
“We had a thing. Like, briefly. I thought it was more serious, but looking back, he’s been pretty upfront about the fact that he doesn’t do relationships with humans. I can see why me getting shot would only solidify his belief that being with a human would be bad.”
Jackson’s jaw jutted out the way it did when he was angry. Not a good sign. The last thing Drew wanted was Jackson hunting Nick down for some imagined slight.
“It’s not like it was your fault that psycho shot you,” Jackson said. “And there’s nothing wrong with being human.”
“I know that. He knows that too. He doesn’t dislike humans. He just doesn’t see a future in dating one. I guess I get it.”
“It’s bullshit,” Jackson insisted. “Look at Dad and Christa. They’ve been married what, twenty-five years?”
“Thirty,” Drew said with a faint smile. “And they’re the exception, not the rule. How many other mixed human and Were couples can you think of?”
Jackson went silent, which just made Drew’s point for him. There were very few. Some Packs openly forbade it, and even in the ones who didn’t actively discourage it, it was still rare. There were too many complications, and a large percentage of Weres were like Nick—of the mind that humans were fun to have flings with but weren’t good for settling down.
“Anthony’s wife is human,” Jackson finally said, frowning. “And Faith is dating a human.”
“Both of them are from smaller Packs where there aren’t a lot of eligible Weres to choose from,” Drew pointed out. “Nick’s from the Denver Pack. If he was looking for a mate, there’s no shortage of available Weres up there his age.”
“You’re defending him?” Jackson scowled.
“There’s nothing to defend. You can’t make someone love you.”
Jackson’s brows shot up. “Love? Who said anything about love, bro?”
Drew waved off the question. “I need a nap.”
“Jordan’s on his way with food. How about we get some greasy, fat-filled goodness into you, you take your pain pill from Nurse Ratched, and then you get your nap.”
“Don’t use logic on me,” Drew muttered, closing his eyes and nestling into the chair.
He perked up when Jordan bounded in with bags that smelled like heaven. Jackson muffled a laugh at the way he leaned toward the scent of food, wheeling up a table so Drew didn’t have to move.
“I promised the nurse none of this was for you,” he said, putting down a burger, curly fries, and a milkshake in front of Drew. He dug out a burger for himself and took a large bite. “So like, if he comes in, you’ve gotta pretend like you’re sad and shit because we’re eating in front of you.”
Jackson grabbed the remaining bag and stuffed a handful of french fries into his mouth. “He offered Drew a sponge bath earlier.”
“That was a threat, not an offer,” Drew pointed out as he took a drink of his shake.
“Oh no, trust me, it was an offer. He smells like a fourteen-year-old boy whenever you’re around.”
Jordan cracked up. “Who doesn’t?”
“Me, asshole,” Jackson cried, looking offended. “Oh my God, he’s my brother.”
Jordan grinned and threw a fry at him. “You’re not blood related.”
“You’re disgusting,” Drew said, rolling his eyes. “He’s just riling you up, Jackson. God. I’d think after two years of living together you’d have figured out he’s a troll.”
“I may be a troll, but I’m not blind. You can even make a hospital gown look good, D.”
The old nickname made Drew smile. “I already told you I’m not interested.”
And he had. He’d woken up to Jordan curled around him in his hospital bed, his face pressed into Drew’s neck like he wanted to soak up as much of his scent as possible. For a moment, he’d thought it was Nick and relaxed into the cuddle, but as soon as Jordan’s lips met his he’d realized his mistake.
He’d stopped when Drew asked him to, falling all over himself to apologize. He’d grown up a lot since they broke up two years ago, but Drew wasn’t interested in rekindling their romance. A year ago, hell, even a month ago, he probably would have welcomed it. But he only wanted one werewolf in his bed now, even if wishing for it was a lost cause.
Jackson smirked and pointed to his nose. “The body is willing, but the mind is hung up on some werewolf supremacist douche.”
“He is not a supremacist. Christ.” Drew squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and prayed for patience. “He just doesn’t think human/Were couples have a future. That doesn’t make him antihuman.”
“Sounds like a douche,” Jordan agreed. “Want me to tell him in detail how very wrong he is about exactly how satisfying a human/werewolf coupling can be?”
“I will end you,” Drew said seriously. “Besides, he already knows. Remember I told you I hooked up with some random guy when I got stuck in Chicago, Jackson?”
“Wait, that was him?”
“That was him,” Drew confirmed grimly.
“Well shit.”
“I DON’T need Jordan to come with me.” Drew was standing on his own and stuffing the things he’d managed to acquire at the hospital into a green duffel bag with Camp H.O.W.L.’s logo on it that Scott had brought him.
It was such a relief to be out of the hospital gown. Even though he was relegated to button-down shirts until it no longer hurt to lift his hands above his head, they were miles more comfortable than the hospital gown with the flyaway back.
“And I’m telling you that you don’t get a say in this. I promised Nurse Ratched. It’s done. I’m pretty sure he’s like a crossroads demon in his spare time or something, so any verbal agreement with him is set in stone. My soul could be at stake here, Drew.”
Scott snorted out a laugh, and Drew sent his stepbrother a dark look. “I am a doctor, Jackson. I think I know what I can and can’t do. I can take care of myself.”
Jackson looked him dead in the eye and swatted at the duffel bag, which hit the linoleum floor with a thwack.
“Can you, now? So it won’t be a problem for you to, say, bend over and pick that up. Right? If you’re so capable of being on your own.”
Drew growled but relented “Fine. But Scott can stay with me. Jordan doesn’t have to come.”
“Scott has a cabin of miscreants the likes of which he has never seen before,” Scott said, holding his hands up. “I can’t leave them on their own. Trust me. No one would come out of that alive.”
“Harris, then.”
“Harris practically faints at the sight of blood,” Jackson said. “He’s going to help you change dressings? No.”
Scott picked the bag up for him and put it back on the bed. “What about Nick? He’s been staying at the infirmary anyway, and you two are close.”
That caught Drew’s attention. “Why isn’t he at his cabin?”
“Tate and Adrian are staying there. He’s kind of a mess, to be honest. Kenya thought it was better if he didn’t have a lot of contact with wolflings until he could get himself together. The infirmary has the room, so it made sense to put him there.”
Which was exactly the opposite of what Nick had told him. What the hell?
Drew bit back a sigh. One more fuck to add to
this cluster. He’d have to deal with kicking Nick out when he got back. He didn’t want him staying there if Jordan was coming. The risk of bloodshed was too high, and his range of motion was too compromised to be suturing anyone.
Besides, he should get to nurse his broken heart without tripping over Nick at every turn. If that was selfish, well, so be it. He’d just been shot in the chest protecting Nick and Maura; he could afford to be a little selfish.
“Can’t you come instead?” Drew wasn’t above begging. Or blackmail. He had some things on Jackson that his stepbrother would probably go to great lengths to keep quiet.
“I would, but I’ve got a bust tomorrow that has been months in the making. I’ve got to get back to Lexington.”
Jordan had driven back this morning to grab clothes so he could spend the week at Camp H.O.W.L. with Drew. Platonically. Because that’s what Pack is for, he’d told Drew, like Drew was some sort of idiot who didn’t know that. Like he hadn’t been a member of the Garrison Pack almost as long as Jordan.
“Hey, bright side, you get to meet Raoul,” Jackson said, making jazz hands. “No one other than Jordan has met him yet, so you’ll get to give him the shovel talk.”
Raoul was part of the Lexington Pack, and he and Jackson had been dating for a few months. Drew’s stepdad was worried that their relationship might entice Jackson to defect to Lexington for good, but Drew doubted that would happen. They weren’t that serious, for starters, and the Lexington Pack was very traditional—seconds had to be Pack-born. There was no way Jackson was giving up his dream for a guy, no matter how hot he was.
And Raoul was definitely smoking hot—Drew confirmed that a few minutes later when Jordan came in with him in tow. He smiled warmly at Drew and gave Jackson a just-this-side-of-PG hug that was so tight Drew’s healing chest ached in sympathy.
“This is my baby brother Drew,” Jackson said when they’d parted. “Drew, this is Raoul.”