Chapter 6
6
B rett stood in the customers’ restroom at Lambeau’s Restaurant the following morning, shaky and sick. He should’ve gone to the employee one in the back, but he hadn’t wanted a potential audience and word to get to Pierce that he’d been praying to the porcelain gods. He washed his hands and the sheen of sweat from his face. Once done, he eyed his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He was growing paler by the day, the dark circles under his eyes deepening—or maybe that was just the fancy spotlight over each of the expensive wash basins that caused him to look so washed out.
Maybe, but he doubted it was the only cause. Weeks of troubled sleep and cramping pain were taking their toll. He’d come to work, hoping there would be a note left or a check with his name on it so he could schedule a doctor’s appointment, but his desk had been full of the normal invoices and time-off requests. It hadn’t been in the safe, either.
Knowing Pierce, he’d want to have a discussion face-to-face and that meant more pain. He wasn’t sure he could handle much more. Beginning the night before, he’d added vomiting and intense nausea to his list of symptoms. He hated throwing up. It was the absolute worst. But it also signaled things were most definitely not getting better. He should’ve stayed home, in bed, but he had payroll to finish. He’d forced some toast down his throat and hoped it would help settle things, but it had roiled in his belly until it ended up in one of the toilets behind him.
Brett placed both hands on either side of the wash basin, steadying himself. Knees weak, he felt his stomach pitch again. He ran for the nearest toilet and puked everything left in his stomach, which wasn’t much. When he was done, his knees protested the hard tiles under them. While he didn’t make a habit of sitting on public restroom floors, he knew Pierce’s standards of cleanliness. He could probably eat off that floor and be perfectly fine.
That was, if he could manage to eat anything and keep it down. He slid to his bottom and rested his back against the stall partition. Brett had no idea how much time passed before he caught his breath and felt a little more stable. Rising unsteadily, he returned to the row of black onyx sinks and washed his face, hands, and mouth again before forcing himself out. He strode through the empty dining room and toward his office as quickly as he could, which wasn’t quick at all. He contemplated locking his door and lying down on the cold tile floor once he got in there—but as soon as he entered, he found Pierce standing near his desk.
Cradling a tiny infant in his arms.
Brett’s stomach clenched hard at the sight. He winced, grimacing, and stumbled forward, catching the wall beside him with both hands. Brett lifted his gaze, noticing Pierce quickly handing off the babe to Avery.
Avery.
Fuck.
“You shouldn’t be here, Avery,” Brett whispered, pressing the side of his face against the coolness of the wall. “I’m not well. I don’t want to get you or the baby sick.”
Brett eyed the newborn in his best friend’s arms, and his chest tightened with both joy and sorrow. He hated not having met the little one yet, but he wasn’t in the best situation to make the child’s acquaintance. When he lifted his gaze to Avery, he saw nothing but concern in his best friend’s eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here if you’re not well,” Pierce said before swooping in and placing an arm around him.
Brett was almost scared to let go of the wall, but he did. He leaned into Pierce’s strength and all but fell into the chair once they reached it. Pierce knelt at Brett’s feet, staring up, and the look in his eyes brought another stab of pain. Brett rolled the chair back as far as he could, the discomfort caused by Pierce’s nearness unwelcome, all while wanting nothing more than to slide into the alpha’s arms at the same time. “I told you to stay away from my office,” he said to Pierce. “I haven’t had any stomach pain since yesterday.”
“I saw your face when you just walked through that door. I just got here, so it couldn’t have been me.”
“It is,” Brett murmured, his voice barely over a whisper. He knew it was tied to Pierce somehow.
Pierce either ignored him or didn’t hear. He lifted a hand to Brett’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”
Source of his pain or no, Brett closed his eyes and leaned into that hand, as if he sought the man’s strength to sustain his own. Any other time, he would’ve recoiled from Pierce’s touch, but he was just too fucking exhausted to fight. The weeks of pain had sapped him of his energy, and he had nothing left.
“We’re taking you to the hospital. Right now,” Avery said.
Brett opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He simply nodded, realizing he was at his breaking point and too exhausted to refuse their help.
“Avery says jump and you jump?” Pierce asked, growling at Brett. Fury sparkled in his eyes. “I could’ve gotten you there days ago—before it got this bad.”
“I’m sorry,” Brett whispered under his breath, pleading for forgiveness with a gaze. He attempted to rise from the chair but collapsed back into it. Fighting tears, he was done fighting. “I can’t get up.” He drew in a breath, and the alpha’s scent only made the cramps worsen. Yet he knew Pierce was the only one who could help him. Avery had his hands full and needed to keep his distance, just in case. “Help me. Please.”
Pierce’s expression shifted from annoyance to anguish. Without a second’s delay, he scooped Brett into his arms. Pierce carried him as if he weighed nothing. The show of strength was impressive, even in his pain-addled mind.
Melting into the man, Brett rested his head on Pierce’s shoulder, too ill to argue being carried like a child—especially when it felt so right to be in the alpha’s arms.
He had no right to want to be there.
It would be as close to knowing how it would feel to be Pierce’s as he’d ever get. Too bad he was in no condition to enjoy it.
“Pierce, take Brett out to my car. My driver’s waiting for us in the alley,” Avery said.
“Wait,” Brett murmured.
Pierce ignored his plea and headed for the door.
“Wait,” Brett repeated, a little louder.
“No,” Pierce barked, eyes widening. His nostrils flared, anger in his gaze—yet there was something more there. Fear. Pierce was afraid, and that caused larger knots to form in Brett’s stomach. “You’re going. Period.”
“I am,” Brett whispered. “But Avery should go home with the baby. If I’m contagious, neither of them should be around me right now.”
Pierce spun to face Avery. “He’s right. He is feverish. You should go home. I can get him to the hospital. Wait here and I’ll have your driver come in to escort you out.”
Avery frowned, placing the baby in a small carrier. “I can manage. You’ll keep me updated?”
“Of course,” Pierce said, spinning back toward the door.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called,” Brett murmured over Pierce’s shoulder to Avery. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Avery said, brow furrowed.
Pierce growled low in his chest as they exited the office and, for some reason, the vibration of it set off another set of spasms. Pierce raced through the kitchen on the way out, and Brett knew the bakers were likely watching the spectacle with rapt attention. Brett should’ve demanded he be let down, but the exhaustion and intense pain robbed him of the will. Robbed him of most of the shame, too. Instead of fighting, he rested his head on Pierce’s strong shoulder, willing it to be soon over.
Before they could make it to the door, two of the prep cooks entered. Brett hid his face against Pierce’s shoulder as the alpha murmured they were leaving for the hospital. He could feel the heat of their stares on the way out.
Pierce slid Brett into the passenger side of an unfamiliar SUV and helped pull the seat belt around him. The question of where the sports car was entered his mind, but he was in too much pain to ask—or care—in that moment. He rested his head back on the headrest and tried not to notice the concern on Pierce’s face before slamming the door. The alpha walked around the front to the driver’s side, watching him through the glass.
Pierce turned the engine on and tossed it into gear before it had a chance to idle for more than a second—and hit the gas a little too hard as he pulled out.
Brett winced, the seat belt digging into his gut.
“Shit, I’m sorry, hon.”
Hon. Why did that word make him feel a little weightless? Brett swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to forget it was said. He didn’t mean anything by it.
Pierce slowed down and placed a firm hand on Brett’s knee.
Brett eyed the hand, a part of him inside screaming to push it away, but it felt too nice right where it was. He didn’t feel quite so alone with it there.
His abdomen tightened again, a war between heaven and hell waged inside his body.
Pierce’s gaze moved to his and then back to the street. “We’re not far, Brett. We’ll get you some help soon, I promise.” He squeezed Brett’s knee. “It won’t be much longer now.”
Brett eyed the huge console between them and muttered under his breath. He wanted to slide closer and rest his head on Pierce’s shoulder again. It was warm there. Comforting. The hand helped, but he needed more.
He needed less.
Trapped inside the vehicle with only Pierce, it made the scent ten times stronger—and the pain almost unbearable. He closed his eyes as Pierce navigated the Alpha Quarter’s streets. Minutes felt like hours. Lifting a shaking hand, Brett cracked the window and leaned closer to the fresh air pouring in, hoping it would help.
It didn’t.
Luckily, though, the hospital wasn’t far from the restaurant. Pierce parked in front of the Crisis Center doors, leapt out, and pulled Brett out from the passenger side, before carrying him inside. The alpha stormed inside and roared, “We need a doctor!”
“What’s the emergency?” a nurse stationed behind a large counter near the door asked.
“He’s in severe pain. His stomach. He’s been having pain come in waves. He’s weak. He’s pale. He can’t walk on his own.” Pierce eyed Brett. “Anything you need to add?”
Pierce shook his head. He struggled to keep his eyes open. “I’ve been throwing up since last night. I’m… exhausted. I can barely sleep, though.”
“Have a seat and the triage nurse will call you back.”
“He’s in pain!” Pierce roared.
“So are other people here,” the nurse snapped. “Have a seat. Someone will call you back as soon as possible.”
Pierce cursed under his breath and spun, carrying Brett to the waiting area.
Brett heard the nurse mutter under his breath, “just what I need right now… an overprotective alpha in the mix.”
Brett closed his eyes again, wishing that were the case. He wished Pierce could be his overprotective alpha, but that was impossible.
Pierce sat, cradling Brett in his arms.
“I can sit in a chair,” Brett whispered. He didn’t want to leave the alpha’s arms, but it was painful to stay—though he doubted it would stop either way.
Pierce pressed his lips to the top of Brett’s forehead. “Just rest. I’ve got you.”
The kiss shocked him, but he was too out of it for it to make the impact it would have otherwise. Brett focused on the beating of the alpha’s heart in an attempt to calm himself, but it was far too fast for that. Sounds flooded the waiting room—murmured conversations, a distant television, the beeping of faraway medical alarms—but he ignored those and listened to the rapid lub-lub-lub of Pierce’s heart and breathed through the stomach cramps.
Pierce’s heart slowed the longer they sat there, but never seemed to fully calm. He told himself it was worry for him, but maybe alpha hearts beat faster, for all he knew. Even so, the sound of it was something to focus on.
An anchor in the storm.
When he was finally called back, Pierce carried him and sat down in the triage office. Brett remained firmly on Pierce’s lap. He wasn’t too far gone to realize the inappropriateness of their situation. A bit of heat filled his cheeks, but he was too weary to be fully ashamed.
“You got me here,” Brett whispered. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Pierce stated, firmly holding his gaze.
“Are you his mate?” the nurse asked Pierce. “Or a family member?”
“No,” Pierce murmured, dragging his gaze from Brett for a second. “He shouldn’t be alone. He’s weak.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t be here right now.” The nurse motioned toward a wheelchair nearby. “You can sit him there and return to the waiting area. We’ll do our best to keep you up to speed on his progress—if the patient approves.”
“I’m not leaving,” Pierce growled.
The sound made Brett wince with pain—yet he didn’t want Pierce to go anywhere either.
“Sir, it’s hospital policy…”
Brett recoiled, pressing his face into Pierce’s chest as the alpha growled again.
“Then call the Guard, because the only way you’re getting me away from him is if you drag me out in cuffs.”
“The longer you fight, the longer it’s going to take us to see what his issue is!” the nurse snapped.
Brett lifted his gaze long enough to see the ferocity in Pierce’s expression. It made it even harder to breathe after what the alpha had just said. “Just… just go to the waiting room so I can find out what this is… Please.”
Pierce frowned, appearing almost heartbroken to be sent away. He rose silently and placed Brett in the wheelchair before ambling out without a look back.
His presence was immediately missed. Tears stung the backs of Brett’s eyes. Pierce being there had helped him feel less scared. Without the man, he feared he might lose his shit before it was over.
When he lifted his gaze, the nurse was watching him closely. He rose and was silent as he took Brett’s vitals—blood pressure, temp, and the like. After that, Brett answered countless questions before the nurse spun the wheelchair and pushed him toward the back. He squeezed his eyes tight against another wave of nausea the motion caused.
As soon as the nurse locked the wheelchair’s wheels inside the small exam room, he grabbed a hospital gown from a cabinet and tossed it onto the exam table.
“Remove everything. Even your briefs,” he said before placing a tag around Brett’s wrist. “The doctor should be back soon.”
After noticing him struggle to undress, another nurse appeared and helped assist Brett onto the gurney. His vitals were taken again before he was left to rest. Rest was near impossible. Worry and pain had been keeping him up at night for weeks.
A doctor swept in sometime later. He asked another litany of questions, most Brett had already answered. Then the man neared and pressed on Brett’s abdomen—which was excruciating. The exam didn’t last long but was far longer than he’d wanted it to be.
“I don’t think this is anything too worrisome. Possibly a gastrointestinal thing, but I’ll run a few tests to be sure before I make a final diagnosis. Rest up and someone’ll be back to get some blood samples.”
Another nurse appeared later and drew vial after vial of blood before he was escorted to a restroom for a urine sample. Once they were done collecting all their bits and pieces, Brett closed his eyes and attempted to rest—but struggled on the uncomfortable bed with bright fluorescent lights glaring above. That had been his life for the past month. When he could sleep, he couldn’t. When he couldn’t, he struggled to keep his eyes open.
The doctor returned maybe an hour later, chart in hand. He sat on the low stool and rolled closer to the head of the gurney. “I’ve got news. Your blood count is slightly elevated, but still in normal range. All of your blood markers are in normal range. Your lymph nodes are a bit swollen, but as I said, I believe this is just a GI issue.”
“I’ve been feeling this for months , though,” Avery said.
“There are chronic GI conditions. Most are food based. Some are a gift of genetics. The fever, body aches, stomach cramping, fatigue—it all fits. Most GI conditions are an immune response, so it could also explain your swollen lymph nodes. I’m going to prescribe some medications for the cramping and pain—and suggest a bland diet for the next couple of weeks. I’m also referring you to a gastroenterologist. They’ll be able to nail down which gut issue this is and suggest further treatment to get you healthy again.” He smiled. “In the meantime, one of the nurses is preparing an IV for you. You’re a bit dehydrated after the vomiting. I’m adding something that should help with the discomfort and nausea until you can get your scripts filled. We’ll give that some time to work before clearing you to go home in about an hour or so.”
“None of this is contagious, right?” He was still terrified he’d already given something to Avery and the baby.
“No… no worries there. Your tests came back negative for flu or infection. You won’t give anything to anyone.”
Brett nodded, thankful it wasn’t something as bad as he’d built up in his head. “Can someone tell the alpha who brought me here that I’m okay? He’s been very worried, and I don’t want him to be.”
“Is he your alpha? I can bring him back if you want.”
My alpha? Brett frowned, confused by the question. “Um, no. Why would I have an alpha? He’s my boss. I was at work when I… finally let them bring me here.”
“You’re working? What do you do?”
“Part-time bookkeeper and part-time server at Lambeau’s.”
The doctor grinned. “Maybe all that rich, fancy food they serve is what messed up your gut. You’re going to need to be very careful and strict about following the food list I’m giving you or else you might be right back here, sick and in pain.”
Brett sighed. His free dinners at work were the only way he could eat most days. His cupboards and fridge were scarily empty.
“But now I know who to call to get a last-minute reservation there,” the doctor joked before rising.
A nurse arrived with an IV bag and a kit of tools. More needles. Great.
The doctor patted Brett’s hand. “I’ll make sure word is sent out to your boss. Just promise me you’re going to rest for the next few days. I’ll include a note to take off a few with your paperwork.”
“Sure,” Brett muttered. He couldn’t take any time off. If he wasn’t contagious, he was going to suffer through.