Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Dillon cranked up the speed on the treadmill, the sweat dripping in his eyes burning and stinging.
He didn’t think he could do it. Maybe the whole idea made him a terrible man.
Maybe it made him a selfish bastard. Whatever it made him, he couldn’t go back to that hospital too many more times, what with Sammy lying there in that bed with all those bandages and machines, not making a lick of sense.
Sammy was awake now, right? It didn’t make Dillon a bad friend to want to go home. He couldn’t take seeing Coke go in there anymore, either. Every time Coke saw Sammy, his bullfighter aged another year.
Dillon ran faster, harder, thinking about how tired and small Coke had looked in that big king-sized bed, surrounded by bassets who were not allowed up there in this hotel.
It was time to go home. Now. To his place in Idaho, not to Texas, so he could control who called Coke. Coke was off work, damn it. Off work and a man, not an angel, not a fucking hero. Just a hurt, tired man who was aging faster than was right.
His legs were burning, his lungs heaving, but Dillon kept at it, needing to work off the hurt and fear and rage. Damn it all, this wasn’t right. Not for Sammy or Beau or Coop or Nate. And not for his Coke.
He barely heard the door open and close, then there was Coke at the weight machine, testing out that shoulder. Dillon almost slipped off the treadmill. Distraction was bad at six miles an hour. Coke started slow, arms working carefully, up and down.
Dillon eased the speed down, going for a trot now, wanting to keep an eye on Coke.
“You have a good run?” Coke did a set of fifteen, then stopped. Panted.
“Yeah.” He stopped the machine and headed over. “Think your shoulder might still be a little sore, huh?”
“A little? Nope.” He got a crooked grin. “I think that a little is just not near close.”
“Well, dumbass, then stop with the pushing.” He wiped sweat off his forehead.
“Trying to test it out, dickwad.” There was no heat behind the words, just a tired fondness.
“Hey, at least you didn’t call me Dillweed.” He winked. “Maybe we ought to hit the hot tub.”
“Oh, I do like those. It snowed. Did you see?”
“Nope.” Snow. He’d promised Coke snow over the break.
“It didn’t last long, but I got to see it.”
That made him smile. Coke was a Texan, through and through, with that mixture of horror and fascination when it came to the white stuff.
“Well, it will last up at my place.” Lord. And then some.
“Yeah?” Coke sighed. “You think Sammy’ll be better today? The pups… They’re real tired.”
“I think so, babe.” He didn’t care if Sam was or wasn’t. They’d done what they could. It was time to rest and heal. “I say we go by and see them, then head out.”
“Yeah? You think it’d be okay?”
Dillon took it as a huge step forward that Coke was almost agreeing.
“I think so, yeah. I mean, Sammy’s on the road to recovery, right? The sooner we all skedaddle, the sooner Beau will be able to get him home.”
“If the Cajun thinks it’s good, I could be ready to go. Today.”
“Yeah? The babies sure would love to run.”
“They would. If Beau says it’s good, then… Yeah. Yeah, it might be time.”
“Well, we’ll ask Beau, then.” Oh, thank God. Dillon would just pull Beau aside, have a word. It was time to go.
“Okay, cowboy,” Coke agreed.
Dillon felt like doing cartwheels. “Come on, babe.” They needed to shower, take the pups for a walk.
Coke nodded, let him help the poor abused body up. “You need some food, too.”
“Yeah. We can call for it, huh? While we walk the babies.” That would work. Lord, they were going to get to go home. Hallelujah.
“Sounds good. We can cook at your house, right? You and me?”
“God, yes.” It had been so long since they’d been at Coke’s house, just them and the grill. “I even got my sister to get a smoker.”
Coke would have to wear a snowsuit to use it…
“Excellent.” Coke nodded, just the once. “I want to eat stuff that don’t have parsley on it.”
Dillon laughed, the sound rusty but good. “Me too. Come on, babe. Let’s get what needs done, done, eh?”
“Sounds good.” Coke tossed him a towel, grabbed a bottle of water, and handed it to him to open.
He popped the top and handed it over. “It does. Let’s go, babe. Let’s go home.”