Jim’s pallor could only be described as gray. His hands, folded in his lap, shook slightly, and Matt could see him holding back a cough.
“I don’t need—” he started, but Griffin cut him off.
“You are going to the fucking hospital if Matt and I have to carry you,” he snapped, kicking the corner of the bed. “Do you want to die here? Are you going to let your daughter come home to a coroner’s truck?”
Eyes narrowing, Jim struggled to get up. “Don’t.”
When he got to his feet, he went still and stark white. Matt reacted so quickly he barely felt himself move. He and Griffin met in the middle, catching Jim before he fell.
The ambulance took only eight minutes
“I AM at the hospital. Jim has pneumonia,” Matt said wearily, sitting on a bench outside the emergency room three hours later. On the other end, Evan made a frustrated noise.
“Jesus. Every time the phone rings lately, someone’s in the hospital.”
“Good point. I’m not answering my phone ever again.”
“It’s not related to that thing he has, is it?”
“No. Just him being a stubborn son of a bitch, to quote his husband.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. There’d been some terrible coffee at some point, and at least two Diet Pepsis from the vending machine, making him both tired and twitchy.
After an endless wait, Jim got wheeled out for tests, leaving the three of them climbing the walls, texting Daisy nonupdates as she waited home to watch the girls. With Jim, Griffin, and the doctor back in the tiny emergency room pod, Matt and Shane headed out to place phone calls to their respective spouses.
“Are they keeping him overnight?”
“At least. Maybe the rest of the week. Might be for his own safety, because Griffin is fucking pisssssed.” He drew the word out, wrinkling his nose as the smoker’s circle of hazy smoke reached him from a few feet away. “I’m going to wait until he’s settled into a room, drive Griffin home, lock him in a closet, and then head back.”
“If you need to stay, it’s fine,” Evan said gently. “I have a meeting at One Police Plaza after work, so I won’t be home until eight.”
Matt kicked a piece of gravel from under the bench. “What’s up?”
The long pause caused momentary concern.
“Chief wants to talk about my retirement,” he said finally. “The term used was ‘unofficial,’ so I assume it’s a move to convince me to stay on.”
“And what do we say when they make fancy promises they won’t keep?” Matt coached.
“Name, rank, and serial number, repeat November 1 retirement date, and don’t drink anything they offer me.” Evan laughed as he repeated Matt’s “advice.”
“Fantastic. I hope you wore a severe tie today.”
“Every day.”
Shane’s purple Converse appeared in Matt’s line of vision; he looked up to find his friend with pursed lips, showing his phone screen and a text from Griffin.
“Okay, gotta go put Griffin in a headlock. Love you.”
“Love you too. Give everyone my best.”
“I’ll call you if I end up staying.” Matt hung up, stretching and standing off the bench with a creaky stretch. “How’s Helena?”
“She offered to come up and kick Jim’s ass.” Shane’s wan coloring and tight-lipped frown worried Matt. Shane spent more than his fair share of time at hospitals lately.
“That’s our girl.” Matt put his arm around Shane’s shoulders as they walked back through, noting the tension in his muscles. “Why don’t I drop you at the train station when I take Griffin home? Or I can ask Daisy to send Georgia.”
Shane withered a bit under Matt’s arm as they entered the raucous emergency room. “I hate to abandon you guys.”
“Stop. I got this. I’ll deal with Griffin. Daisy has the kids. Honestly I’ll probably head home after all this,” he said, lighthearted as he could manage. When they reached the front desk, he winked at the receptionist, with whom he’d put in some solid flirting time earlier.
“Wendy, can we go back? They’re taking him upstairs.”
Wendy—dimples and pink hair; Matt wished he had a brother to fix her up with—smiled and nodded as she picked up the ringing phone.
“You’re scarily good at that,” Shane muttered as Wendy pressed the button and the automatic doors swung open.
“Glad you noticed. You want me to flirt with you until you do my bidding?”
In actuality, Matt didn’t want Shane to leave. He wanted to keep up the banter and joking and distraction so he didn’t have to examine the wave of pure terror currently bouncing against his organs like a hurricane.
He focused on Shane, tucked against him, as he wove his way through doctors and nurses and techs, frantic family members, and weary people being discharged. They reached the pod where Jim rested on a bed, a white-faced Griffin at his side. The oxygen—and Jim’s exhausted expression—brought the seriousness of the situation home.
Matt plastered on a smile. “I heard you’re getting an upgrade. You hold out for a room with a view?”
“Balcony too,” Jim said tiredly. He turned his head to look at Griffin—who was looking at the side of the bed. “You’re driving Griffin home?”
“I’m staying,” Griffin snapped. “I’m so mad right now I could punch the wall, but… not leaving you.”
Jim opened his mouth, but Griffin’s expression kept whatever he was going to say unspoken.
Matt bit the inside of his lip, feeling Shane uncomfortable at his side. “So, I’m going to drive Shane to the train station, then run home, get some of Griffin’s stuff, and be back before bedtime.” Jim’s mouth moved again, but Matt raised his hand. “I will remind you of the time you gave up Christmas caroling to pick me up after my appendix operation. I owe you.”
Jim sank back into the pillow, nodding. That he didn’t argue felt most upsetting to Matt; in all the time he’d known Jim, he’d never seen him look so defeated.
Or… his age.
Shane slipped around him to give Jim a gentle patting hug, and then squeezed Griffin until Matt heard his ribs creak. The writing partners whispered for a few seconds before separating.
“Your turn,” Shane said, fake cheerful.
I should have been an actor, Matt thought as he pulled Griffin into a tight embrace. “I’ll be back in like an hour, maybe an hour and a half. What do you need from the house?”
Griffin clung for a second, then cleared his throat and stepped back. “A sweatshirt. Top drawer of the bureau by the window, any one will do. My shaving kit is on the top shelf in the bathroom.”
“Check and check. Real food?”
“No.”
“Turkey on rye, three Diet Cokes. Got it.”
“Matt….”
“Daisy took the girls to her house for the night,” he said briskly. “I’ll stop by and deliver some hugs before I head back here.”
Tears began to form in Griffin’s eyes, so Matt ruffled his hair affectionately, trying to stave off a total meltdown at the mention of Caroline. He got a nod, which let him feel okay about turning to Jim.
Jim, his best friend and onetime lover, business partner—Matt wasn’t quite sure how to manage the next thirty seconds of his life. Seeing him so pale and helpless triggered something in Matt’s middle.
“You need anything, young man?” he asked, his jovial tone cracking a bit as Jim looked up at him.
The pale blue eyes, so wide and afraid, did him in.
“Just… kiss Caroline for me,” Jim murmured. “Tell her I’ll be fine.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say.” Matt heaved a deep breath and then leaned down to kiss Jim on the cheek. “Behave yourself. Do what the doctors tell you.”
Jim nodded, drifting off a bit as Matt straightened up.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With one more look at Griffin, Matt turned and walked out of the pod, Shane at his heels.
DURING THE silent drive to the
train station, Matt’s heart raced. He imagined his blood pressure numbers in big red print, throbbing in time to the pulse in his temples.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have left Griffin alone,” Shane muttered. “He’s going to worry himself into a stain on the floor.”
“There is literally nothing outside an Army extraction that would have gotten him out of that hospital,” Matt replied, because he’d been there, done that, and Evan wasn’t even his husband at the time. Hell, they were so new the tags were still on them, but seeing his lover in that hospital bed? No. Just no.
“I can’t imagine what he’s going through. It’s like with Serena and Vic.” Shane trailed off as he looked out the passenger window. “Watching them struggle while he’s been in the rehab place has been god-awful.”
Matt’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. The GPS gave cheerful commands from the dashboard, which Matt wanted to punch. Hard.
“Not easy,” Matt said, for lack of anything reassuring coming to mind. The twilight made it hard to see the road; all he kept hearing was Jim’s admonishment to be on the lookout for deer every time he drove back from the house.
“Crap!” Shane let out an annoyed sound. “I left my bag at the house,” he said apologetically.
Matt shook himself back to paying attention to things and began looking for a place to make a U-turn. The clock on the dash had him calculating his time limit to get everything done and still make it back before visiting hours were over.
“Would Helena mind if you stayed at the house tonight? I might be running out of time.” Truth was, Matt didn’t imagine himself going home after all this. Between the long drive and his own anxiety, it’d be easier to sleep over.
Shane gave a heavy sigh. “No. But I need to get back tomorrow morning. Helena and Serena alone in the apartment for long periods of time is a bad scene. I have to play mediator at least until they head back to Florida.”
“Forgot about that.” Matt spotted the U-turn sign and moved into the right lane. “Okay, we go back to the house, get your stuff, you drive my car back to the city, and I’ll take the train when I’m ready to go home.”
“You have to go to the hospital.”
“Don’t they have car services up here?”
“It’s the wilderness, Matt, I have no idea.”
BACK AT Griffin and Jim’s, Helena—who told Shane to stay put—made the decision.
“I can not kill her for one night,” she assured, as Matt listened in on speakerphone.
“Well, that sounds promising,” Matt said after Shane hung up.
Matt put everything Griffin asked for in a cloth shopping bag he found in the pantry, adding a cute picture of Caroline in her dance costume from the mantel. “Has Serena found a place up here yet?”
“Soon as she wins the lottery.” Shane kicked off his sneakers as he lay down on the couch. “Senior housing in the city is a nightmare. We can manage Vic’s rehab because of his insurance, but Serena doesn’t have a pension, just Social Security. Even between them, it’s going to be next to impossible to find an affordable place he can get around in.”
“Bennett Moneybags can’t help?”
Shane gave him a dirty look. “I know it’s a joke that he pays for everything, but the new play is costing him a lot of money. It’ll be a while before he sees some returns on the investment.”
Matt put his hands up. “Mostly kidding.”
“If this play bombs, we are all going to end up living in your basement,” he muttered, rolling over onto his side.
“Good to know,” Matt said, checking his watch. “I’ve delivered hugs and kisses to a small child. You can feed and water yourself. I have everything on the list. Going to pick up Griffin’s food, then head back to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No. Because you’re keeping the home fires burning and going to sleep because you look like crap.”
“I am tired of hospitals, Matt.” Shane gave him a sad look. “Helena flies back to Florida in two days to sit with her mom in the rehab place. I’ll go down next weekend….” His voice drifted off. “We’re both just… tired.”
Feeling guilty for Shane staying the night, Matt picked up the bag, fiddling with his keys in his free hand.
“Fly back with them. Griffin’s not going to be working for the next week at least. You don’t lose any time with your wife,” he said gently. “Bring your expensive fancy computer, work while you’re there.”
Shane perked up. “I could get all our notes transcribed so Griffin doesn’t have to worry about it.”
“See? Brilliant—I’m full of brilliance.” He winked in Shane’s direction. “Go to sleep—we’ve got this.”
“Thanks, Matt.”
“I live to serve.”
“YOU CAN’T retire,” the NYPD chief of police said outright twenty minutes after Evan sat down in his office. They’d talked about the weather, the last crime stats the mayor’s office released, how much of an idiot the mayor was, then… boom.
Name, rank, and serial number, Evan thought.
“Chief, I have my years in. More than enough years, actually. I think I’ve served my city well. Now….” He spread his hands out as if he could encapsulate how much waited for him outside the badge. “It’s time to move on.”
The chief scowled, more artful Botox and smooth white hair than the central casting jowls and liver spots of the typical chief of police. “You’ve been a pain in the ass for years, you know that.”
Evan smiled, crossing his legs, ankle against his knee. “All the more reason for you to be anxious to see me go.”
“We gave you an incredible opportunity—”
“While using me as a poster child for inclusion and trotting me out like the Stanley Cup for photo ops,” Evan finished. “Sir, I am grateful for my time as captain. But it’s time.”
A shrewd look, and Evan resisted the urge to sigh out loud.
“Are you planning to run for office?”
“God no!” Evan coughed into his hand. He should probably play things cooler than this.
“So you’re really just quitting, moving into the private sector?” The chief squinted as if trying to read Evan’s mind.
“I’m retiring.” Evan emphasized the word. “Moving into the grandchild sector.”
The chief’s eyes all but disappeared into his unnaturally smooth face. “Bullshit. The Democrats want you to run for mayor.” Suspicion oozed through every syllable. “They’re grooming you.”
“No. Sir. I don’t know the Democrats and I don’t think they know me, particularly not enough to uh… groom.” Evan uncrossed his legs, leaning forward to emphasize his point. “Sir, I’ve been a cop since I was barely out of my teens. I have a scar on my chest from being shot, bad knees, and no stomach lining left. I owe the department so much—but I also owe my family a few decades of spoiling to make up for everything I’ve missed over the years. I want to take care of my grandkids and spend time with my husband.”
He dropped the last word, watching the chief’s reaction carefully.
The nose wrinkle was barely evident. But Evan could see it—he’d been seeing it for years.
“Fine. You set on November?” The chief flung himself back in his chair, rocking slightly from the recoil.
“I have about ten years’ unused vacation time,” Evan said drily. “Might as well use it up.”
“I’ll get PR on it. I want coverage—I expect you to make yourself available for interviews. And a ceremony.”
Evan cringed inwardly. “Of course.”
“No statements until we prepare something.” The chief tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Lucy Childress will coordinate.”
“Nothing’s been said publicly. I haven’t even talked to my squad.”
“Give me a few days to get something together.” He looked put out. “Lucy’ll call you.”
It felt like a dismissal. Evan hovered for a second, then made to stand up. “Thank you, sir
. I appreciate your time.”
The chief waved his hand, making a noise that sounded like “hmph.”
“Good night, sir,” Evan said sweetly, before gathering his things and heading for the door.
MATT RELIEVED Griffin when he got back to the hospital.
“Wash your face, take a walk,” Matt insisted in a hushed voice as Jim slept on, breathing shallowly. “You’re going to be here all night.”
Griffin’s glasses were dirty, his face drawn. He fumbled with his shaving kit, then nodded. “Text me if he wakes up.”
“Promise. Scout’s honor.”
“I mean it.”
“Griffin, go take a piss. Take care of yourself. I refuse to have Jim give me shit because you drove yourself into a nervous breakdown.”
Eyes closing, Griffin swayed for a second. “He’s sick and he won’t stop working. He’s got this… fucking ticking time bomb in his body, and he won’t stop. I’ve yelled and I’ve begged and I’ve fought dirty and it just….”
Matt swallowed a throat full of barbed wire, then put his arms around Griffin. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s not allowed to die. I will fucking kill him,” Griffin muttered. “I swear to God.”
Matt rubbed Griffin’s back until he could answer. “I’ll help.”
“He has to stop working, Matt. Please, you have to help me convince him.”
The narrow bar between Matt’s feet got smaller—a tightrope walk between his best friend and the shaking man in his arms. Griffin wouldn’t be happy until Jim retired, and Jim would never be happy if he retired… but he’d be miserable if Griffin was miserable. A terrible mess, and one that Matt could cast himself in without a struggle.
“Let’s wait until he’s home and then, uh, we’ll talk. We’ll sit down and talk about the business.” On the tip of his tongue came promises of making Jim take it easy or giving up the travel, but Matt wasn’t a liar and Griffin wasn’t dumb.
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