Driven to Distraction

by Olivia Dade

  “She’s responding well to the antibiotics, which doesn’t surprise any of us.” Penny gave a tired-sounding laugh. “The woman never gets sick. Her immune system must be excited by the rare opportunity to fight off an infection.”

  He licked dry lips and let his sister go. “Really? She’s doing better?”

  “Yes.” Mary skirted the bed and hugged him too. “The nurse said if she keeps improving this rapidly, she might be able to go home in the next twenty-four hours. Which is good, because I think Angie has horrified most of the waiting room with her choice of reading material.”

  Penny shook her head. “Lumberjacks Love Big Bushes. An anthology chosen in Sam’s honor, according to her. Grant tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted.”

  “How many of you are here?” Sam asked, laying the back of his hand across Con’s forehead. She did feel cooler, actually. Only a little warm, rather than burning hot.

  For the first time since she’d collapsed in the Verizon Center, the vise around his chest started to ease, loosened both by Con’s improvement and by the sight of so many other people ready to help her—help both of them—however they could.

  “Um…” Mary tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, revealing pearl studs. Somehow, she managed to appear quietly classy even in a hospital room at dawn, which he considered quite a feat. “Nine, I guess. The two of us. Angie, Grant, Jack, Helen, and Wes are in the waiting room, and Sarah and Chris went to get food for everyone. So if you want to sleep more, feel free. We’ll hold down the fort until you wake up again. Or if you want to drive home for a shower and new clothing, that’s fine too.”

  “I’m good.” No way was he going somewhere over an hour away from Con.

  Penny turned to the corner of the room, where a green duffel bag had materialized at some point. “I thought you might say that. So I used the house key you gave me to let myself in. I gathered some clothes and toiletries for you before we drove over here.”

  Once again, he found himself both grateful and confused. “Thank you.”

  She plopped the bag into his arms. “Go clean up. You’ll feel better.”

  He did. Especially when he returned to see Con awake in bed, lucid and healthy enough to be arguing with her friends. She looked so much like her normal self, his legs turned rubbery beneath him. All he could do was cling to the doorframe, unable to say a word or move a single step.

  “This is ridiculous.” Con made a weak shooing motion at Helen and Angie. “Gather your assorted men and go home. I’m fine.”

  Angie rolled her eyes. “You’re fine? News flash, Con. Healthy people generally aren’t lying on hospital beds, looking like shit.”

  “I may look like shit, but at least I have pneumonia.” Con regarded her friend with narrowed, bleary eyes, and Sam almost cried in happiness at the sight of that familiar death stare. “What’s your excuse?”

  Helen appeared relieved when she finally noticed him. “Oh, thank God. She just woke up a minute ago, Sam. I sent Wes to find you, but he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

  At the sound of his name, Con immediately scanned the room for Sam. And when she spotted him, her shoulders seemed to drop a little. The brittleness in her expression disappeared, and she reached for him with both hands.

  He couldn’t get to her side fast enough. Screw his rubbery legs. He’d run an entire marathon at a sprint, if doing so would earn that look on her face again. And when she nestled into his embrace like she was coming home, cuddling with complete trust against him, a dead silence fell over the room.

  After a minute, Helen broke the stunned hush. “Wow. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  “It’s a fucking miracle,” Angie announced loudly.

  A split second later, Tina walked through the open door. “Ladies. A little decorum, please.”

  Reluctantly, Sam loosened his hold on Con and supported her as she lay back down.

  “Sorry, Tina.” Angie shrugged. “Con is a bad influence on us. As always.”

  Con offered her friend a middle finger.

  Despite Tina’s long-suffering expression, she very gently smoothed Con’s hair back from her forehead. “I don’t want to see you at the library without a doctor’s note attesting to your complete and total recovery, Ms. Chen. And even then, I plan to assign Sybil and Iman more hours on board the Bookmobile. It wouldn’t hurt you to spend time in the office. At least until it gets warmer.”

  Con’s lips had formed a mutinous line. “Tina—”

  “No arguments.” Tina bent down to kiss Con’s temple, then stood. “And Mr. Wolcott, I’ll inform your supervisor you’ll be gone for a few days. If you can’t come back by next week, though, please call to let us know.”

  At that, Con’s face turned flushed and blotchy again, this time with temper instead of fever. “Sam won’t need to miss work because of me. I can take care of myself. And I don’t understand why all of y—”

  Enough tiptoeing around the subject. It was time to clarify their relationship and claim his place beside the woman he adored, once and for all. Before she upset herself enough to cause a relapse. In which case, the doctors should hook him up to some machines too, because he didn’t think he could survive it without medical intervention.

  “Constance Marie,” he interrupted, cupping her cheek to direct her attention his way. “Just before you fell into a fevered stupor, you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”

  Her words stuttered to a halt, and everyone in the room was suddenly watching them like the world’s most interesting superhero movie.

  “Did you?” he prompted when she didn’t answer him.

  She sounded grumpy as fuck when she finally spoke. “Of course I did. Thanks for advertising it to the world, asshole.”

  “And I love you right back. Which I’m sure you already knew, without my having to tell you. You also know I won't be any good at work until you're feeling better. So why are you arguing with me about this? Why are you arguing with Tina?”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned her head to kiss his palm.

  “Yeah, Chen.” Angie leaned against the doorframe. “Why are you being such a pain in the ass? I mean, other than because of your basic temperament?”

  Con didn’t look away from him, even as she waved another middle finger at her friend. “You love me, Sam? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I love you more than I ever imagined loving anyone or anything. More than my superhero tees. More than my gaming equipment or my collection of computer monitors or my lucky hockey jersey.” His face twisted as he remembered her lying limp on that hospital bed, her breathing labored. “More than my life, Con.”

  It was the honest truth, although he was surprised by the question. She didn’t usually need reassurance, and he’d been certain she understood the depth of his feelings for her. But maybe illness had temporarily weakened his indomitable girlfriend. So be it. He was more than delighted to reaffirm his love as often as she wanted.

  She blinked up at him. “And you’d do anything for me?”

  “Oh, boy,” he heard Helen mutter. “Here it comes.”

  “Anything,” he vowed.

  Con raised a single brow, just like—as she always claimed—an asshole duke would. “Then stop being lazy. Get me out of here.”

  20

  To Sam’s credit, he did ask the next available doctor whether Con could safely be released into his care. It wasn’t his fault the woman laughed in his face and said it wasn’t happening for another few hours.

  Con appreciated the effort, if not the result. And for his sake, as well as the happiness of her friends, she tried to tamp down her grouchiness during the rest of that long day in the hospital. Her loved ones hadn’t caused her helplessness. They didn’t deserve sharp words or impatience. And as Helen annoyingly pointed out, Con had helped all of them countless times over the years, so she needed to suck it up and deal.

  Accordingly, she shut
her mouth and watched a replay of the previous night’s hockey game with Sam, Mary, and Wes, while the others read and chatted in the waiting room. She worked on the coloring book Angie had procured, scribbling until she wanted to stab colored pencils into her eyes. She glommed the Naked Carpenter’s most recent season on Blu-Ray, paying special attention to all the parts where he went shirtless. Much to Sam’s very vocal disgust.

  But by late that afternoon, she was coming out of her skin. Sure, she was a little feverish and prone to uncontrollable coughing fits. Sure, her energy levels had sunk to zero. But she was getting better by the minute. Sitting quietly didn’t suit her, and she wasn’t used to it. She needed to work on something. She needed to speak to Sam one-on-one.

  Most of all, she needed to go home. Either to Sam’s house or her own.

  When Angie tried to hand her yet another stupid coloring book, she broke.

  “I’m feeling great,” she told her friends. “I want out.”

  Sam opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Angie took charge.

  “You feel great? Really?” She raised her blond brows high and glanced around the room meaningfully. “Is that why you’re still hooked up to so many machines?”

  Con glared at her. “You’re a bitch, Burrowes. A bitch whose concern I appreciate, but a bitch nonetheless.”

  “Takes one to know one.” Angie grinned. “And bitches of a feather flock together. So stop trying to break up the flock, woman.”

  Despite her best efforts, Con’s lips twitched. “Flock off.”

  Angie’s gaze fell on Sam. “You should lecture your girlfriend about her salty language.” She appeared thoughtful. “And I’ve decided that doctors need to study your penis.”

  What the fuck?

  Helen choked and started coughing.

  “Yes, Helen, I know you’ve already seen it, but you’re not a medical professional. And I’m sure you used a condom when you traveled to Pound Town with your best friend’s future lover.” Angie drummed her fingertips against her chin. “So maybe it’s something about his sperm. Or something that requires direct cock-on-vagina contact. They’re probably barebacking it by now, so—”

  “God, she’s such a bitch,” Con said, setting aside the coloring book and burrowing into Sam’s warm, supportive arms.

  “All I’m saying is that any man who elicits this kind of trust and affection from Constance Chen…” Angie spread her hands. “We need to study him. For the sake of science. So drop trou, Wolcott. I’m going in.”

  Con’s head rose an inch or two from his chest. “Like hell, woman. He’s mine. No one sees this lumberjack’s mighty oak but me.”

  “I can tell she’s not a hundred percent.” Helen turned to Angie. “Otherwise, her metaphor would’ve been much, much more bizarre and nonsensical.”

  Con groaned. “Bitches. Bitches everywhere.”

  “I’m sorry, love.” He rubbed her back gently. “You reap what you sow. And apparently, at some point in the distant past, you planted a flourishing crop of, um—”

  “Bitches,” Angie cheerfully offered.

  “—friends who love you. Friends who show that love through merciless teasing and demands to view your boyfriend’s junk.”

  Con pulled out of his arms and flopped back on her pillow. “So when did you plant your crop? Because the only reason I didn’t rip out my IV and flee from this bed hours ago was because Helen and Angie said I’d worry you. And they were very insistent that I not upset you more than I already have.”

  “Preying on Con’s caretaker instincts.” He offered Helen and Angie approving nods. “A clever tactic. Ruthless but effective.”

  Helen’s brow furrowed. “I’m not denying we used you as leverage to keep Con in bed. But we really are concerned. You look like shit, Sam. For a while there, we thought we might need to hook you up to some of these machines. So you could become a cyborg, like Con.” She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, Jesus. The thought of her with extra strength and stamina is kind of horrifying, to be honest.”

  “Biiiiiiiitttttcch.” Con stretched out the word to about twenty syllables.

  Helen just waved an admonishing finger. “Language, Ms. Chen.”

  ***

  When the nurse finally came with her discharge papers that evening and wheeled her out to Sam’s waiting car, Con heaved a long, heartfelt sigh of relief. Sam lifted her out of the wheelchair, despite her protests that she could walk, and settled her so carefully into the passenger seat she almost cried yet again.

  Her friends slowly dispersed. First, though, they all hugged her tight, made her promise to take it easy, and discussed amongst themselves who would bring sandwiches and chips to her house each day. Sam waited patiently by her side during the whole prolonged process, covering her with blankets he’d procured somewhere and keeping the car running so she’d stay warm enough.

  The last set of taillights disappeared into the distance, and he fastened her seat belt, ignoring her attempts to bat away his hands and do it herself. Then he settled into the driver’s seat with a sigh of his own.

  More guilt overwhelmed her. “You must be exhausted.”

  “Just glad to have you to myself again.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek.

  Con gave a heartfelt nod. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  “Helen picked up your antibiotics at the pharmacy already. They’re in my bag. And Jack grabbed Penny’s key to my house and stocked the fridge with foods suitable for a helpless invalid like you.” He grinned, unfazed by Con’s glare. “So we can go straight home and get you to bed. Maybe even clean you up a little beforehand, if you feel strong enough for that.”

  Glancing behind him, he put the car into reverse and began to back up.

  “Sam…” This discussion should wait until they made the long trip home, and she knew it. But she couldn’t stand making casual chitchat. Not when she had something important to say. “We need to talk.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he sounded calm as he pulled into the space again and parked. “Okay.”

  “I don’t want—”

  His carefree façade shattered. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking back your declaration of love.” He slumped forward, his forehead against the steering wheel. “Or breaking up with me for some bizarre reason. I honestly don’t think my poor heart can bear it tonight.”

  “No.” Con unbuckled her safety belt and reached for him. “No, Sam. I love you. I’m not breaking up with you. Either now or in the foreseeable future.”

  He pulled her into his lap, buried his face in her hair, and started to shake. “Oh, God, Con. You were so still in that fucking bed. I kept thinking about the last time I went to a hospital. My dad…”

  “Shhh.” She pressed closer, rocking him slightly back and forth. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  “Not your fault.” He gave a watery laugh. “Obviously. And I’m sorry to fall apart on you. You shouldn’t have to comfort me when you’re sick.”

  “Shhh,” she said again, and kept rocking until the shaking stopped.

  Even though his pain tore at her heart, offering him affection and reassurance felt so good. Just as she’d suspected.

  She knew, finally. Knew that taking on his burdens wouldn’t overwhelm or annoy her. Hell, she wanted to do it. She wanted to support him and help him shoulder his responsibilities. Every day. Every way she could. Which was precisely what she’d planned to discuss with him.

  “Sam.” She ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him. “Please don’t apologize for needing my support. For needing me. You’ve made my life easier in so many ways. You give and give and give, and I haven’t offered you much except sex in return. But that ends today. This minute. This second.”

  He took a last shuddering breath. “Con, helping you makes me happy. If you let me, I’d carry you everywhere, shove aside anyone who got in your way, and smite your enemies.”

  “Marsha from the children’s department
?”

  His nod was fervent. “Marsha from the children’s department. Smiting her would be a true pleasure.”

  For a moment, she got lost in pleasant reverie. Then she wrenched herself back to the point of the entire conversation. “I won’t jump airplane in times of trouble, Sam. I promise.”

  “Definitely feeling better,” he muttered. “Jump ship, love. The phrase is jump ship.”

  She drew her brows together. “That’s a terrible idea. Not at all safe. As Pretend Pirate Clarence and his two broken legs can attest.”

  “Most ships aren’t located above a concrete floor. And I’m not clear on how jumping out of an airplane would be any safer.”

  “Whatever.” She waved a hand. “I’m trying to tell you that despite everything I’ve said since we started dating, I won’t resent helping or comforting you when you need it. You take such good care of me, and I can do the same for you. I will do the same for you, if you’ll let me. I’m sorry I took advantage of you for so long.”

  His laugh echoed in the car. “You never took advantage of me, Con. I’m a grown man, and I know what I want. What I love. Whom I love.”

  “Me,” she whispered.

  “You. I also like being needed, and I don’t have many people in my life who do need me. So I’m delighted to assist you whenever I can.” He rubbed his bristly cheek against hers. “And don’t worry. I never doubted you’d race to my side if I needed you.”

  She shook her head. “You had to have doubted me. I told you again and again I’d kick your ass to the curb if you caused me a minute of worry.”

  His hand smoothed down her back, his touch lulling and sure. “You’re a caretaker, Con. A natural giver. I knew you’d never abandon me in times of trouble. I’ve known it for a long time now. I’m just glad you finally know it too.”

  “I said I couldn’t take on any more burdens, but nothing involving you feels like a burden to me, Sam. I have space for you. In my heart and in my life. Forever.”

  She spoke the vow with as much emphasis as she could muster. Which wasn’t as much as she’d have liked, because she was rapidly tiring. Barely able to focus on him or her own thoughts, in fact.