Chapter 17 #3
He did, wiggling them and then touching the tips together onto his thumb. Good movement, so no muscle damage.
“Can you feel the tips?” John asked.
“Yeah.”
No nerve damage.
John released the breath trapped in his lungs, wiping the other side of his cheek on his shoulder.
“John… look at me,” Wyatt said softly.
He shook his head, swallowing the lump caught in his throat. “I can’t.”
He didn’t want Wyatt to see his fear—his pain—his love.
Fuck.
He loved him so fucking much. And he knew Wyatt would read it all over his face.
“You’re off the rest of the week and next,” John bit out. “I don’t want to see you in my hospital until you get a call from Steph to come back.”
“John…” Wyatt’s tone sharpened. “I’m fine.”
“Dr. Donnelly to you, young sir,” Samuels countered, his eyes flicking back and forth between them.
“I’ll have Dr. Samuels finish this up,” John said, and Samuels moved around the gurney to start the repair of the wound. “Once Steph clears you, I want you to go home. Tanya will probably reach out tomorrow for a full report on the incident.”
“John…!” Wyatt declared, emotion flooding him. “I’m okay. I’m okay… look at me, please.”
His shoulders trembled, but finally he did. And then the floodgates opened, breaking him open and ruining every defense he had around his heart. Wyatt practically leaped out of the bed, grabbing John’s wrist and yanking him back to him, their eyes colliding.
He felt Wyatt’s uninjured hand grab the back of his neck and drag him down for a kiss, yet it wasn’t hard—it was reassuring and packed with everything they both wanted to say in that moment.
His heart, his aching, damn heart, was lost. Completely, utterly gone. Wyatt had it now. And he couldn’t fucking breathe without him.
Wyatt seemed to sense his pain, pulling back just enough from the kiss to whisper, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
John nearly sobbed, gasping as tears fell relentlessly.
The door opened, and someone let out a squeak.
“Taschen,” Samuels barked. “Close the door and stay right fuckin’ there.”
John’s heart dropped into his stomach and he reluctantly released Wyatt.
Fuck. Not Taschen.
Samuels, without missing a beat or stopping his careful patch of Wyatt’s exposed vein, glanced briefly at her. “Come here.”
Ava, eyes wide and carefully avoiding John and Wyatt, stood ramrod straight next to Samuels.
“Remember that debt you owe me?” Samuels said in an icy tone that John had never heard him use before.
Ava squeaked again and nodded mutely.
“I’m callin’ it in, honey.” Samuels side-eyed her just as coldly. “You speak a word of this to anyone, and I mean anyone, and you’ll be back in first year residency so fast, your head will spin like the goddamned Exorcist. Capisce?”
Her big eyes widened in fear and she trembled. “Yeah, yeah, got it.”
John watched as Samuels instructed her to leave and she stumbled over her feet, nearly racing out the door, still avoiding looking at them.
“What was that?” John asked Samuels incredulously.
Samuels arched both eyebrows at him. “What was that?” he glanced between them. “Really? At work? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“You knew?” he asked, stunned.
Samuels scoffed, offended. “Of course, I knew. You’ve been eye-fucking each other for over a month. And don’t even get me started on standing idly by having to listen to Lawson’s praise kink in real time.”
Wyatt barked out a laugh and dropped his head back onto the pillow, still pale yet slowly coming back to life.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” John asked.
Samuels shrugged, “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. I know what it's like to have feelings for someone and not know what the fuck to do about it.”
John scrubbed his hand through his beard, unable to stop his eyes from moving back to Wyatt’s, who was watching him and reading everything on his face like an open book.
Shit.
He had to have seen the truth.
He knew. He had to.
A few minutes later, Samuels said, “You’re done, cowboy.” He peeled off his bloodied latex gloves, looking proudly over the stitch job.
John inspected Samuel's work and nodded approvingly. “Looks good.”
“You may need to ice your shoulder, slugger,” Samuels said with a hitch of his chin.
He glanced down at his shoulder, noticing it was stiff and braced against his body. “Shit. I didn’t even realize.”
“Other priorities,” Samuels said knowingly, and shot a hard look at Wyatt. “You’ll need to keep it clean. Probably scar a bit, but it’ll look cool.”
Wyatt smiled weakly at him, “Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I don’t trust Ava not to say anything.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” Samuels said. “I have her on three HIPAA violations because of that mouth of hers.”
“Three? And you didn’t think to tell me?” John snapped at his colleague.
“Are you questioning my decision not to report her? Now?” Samuels snapped back. “Seriously?”
He hesitated and instantly shut his mouth. Samuels was helping them out, making sure their secret was safe—for now, at least. It was only a matter of time before the ED found out.
“They were minor ones. Teachable offenses. Except that she wasn’t quite learning to curb her tongue. So, I figured I had her,” Samuels said with an indifferent shrug. “Let’s just say I, myself, can be morally questionable, and I’m okay with that.”
“Who are you and what did you do with Samuels?” John asked, shaking his head in stunned wonderment. Samuels was a good man, and yet knowing he was willing to blackmail gave him pause, but not for too long. This time, he was doing it for a good cause.
Samuels smirked, “Your new best friend. And just so you know, I don’t have plans for Thanksgiving. I expect a text message for a time and place, John. Now, you kids make it quick. I can give you five before I send Steph in.”
“Thanks,” Wyatt murmured.
Samuels winked at him and left.
“Come here,” Wyatt rasped. “Please…”
He couldn’t say no to him, and once more, Wyatt dragged him back down, gripping firmly to the back of John’s neck and raking his fingers upward to his hair. He tipped his forehead into his, releasing an unexpected, strangled breath. “Fuck, I was so scared.”
The intimacy, the vulnerability, broke him.
He held Wyatt close, framing his face and closing his eyes, unwilling to see the knife back at his throat. All John wanted to do was sink into him and kiss him—touch him, feel his steady heartbeat against his. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t…
Wyatt almost died. And John could do nothing to stop it.
This was why he didn’t get close to people. This was why he gave everything to his job, not to anyone who could actually hurt him—or get close enough to do it.
“Then I saw you…” Wyatt breathed, kissing him softly on the lips. John melted into him. “And I knew I’d be okay. That if something happened to me…”
“Stop,” he hissed. “Fuck, stop.”
John’s throat tightened. He wanted to run, to escape the fear crushing his chest like an anvil. He thought he could do this. He thought that he could move past his fears, but he couldn’t…
“John…” Wyatt’s voice wavered.
“Do you realize what could’ve happened out there?” he growled through gritted teeth, feeling gutted and hollow. “How fast that could’ve all gone south? I can’t save everyone, Wyatt. Even if we’re standing in the middle of a god damned hospital.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Wyatt replied calmly, too calmly.
He jerked his gaze to him, and Wyatt was staring right through him and into his soul. “I knew that if that man cut my throat, I’d die in the arms of the man I loved.”
The world shifted and tilted him off its axis, and his heart was pierced with both elation and fear. He stumbled back, both hands covering his face and dragging his fingers over his eyes.
“I know you feel this, too,” Wyatt whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t… just stay. Stay with me.”
He couldn’t. He had to run—flee—do anything else but stay and feel everything. It was too much. It all was just too fucking much.
John blindly walked to the door, ripping it open and walking past the police, the blood, the noise—he needed air. He needed space. He needed it to fucking stop for one minute.
I just need a minute.
One minute.
John took the stairs two at a time, heading up to the roof.
It was the one place in the whole hospital where he could have some privacy.
The sunshine blanketed his face the second he rushed out to the helicopter med bay, which was currently empty.
He sucked in giant gulps of air, eyes straining upward to the bright blue skies as he walked to the edge of the building that overlooked the sprawling city and feeling small in comparison.
He loved Wyatt.
He loved that cowboy doctor more than anything else.
And he could’ve lost him. It happened so quickly.
One minute, he was thinking about asking him to move in, and the next, he was watching a man hold him at knife point.
Life, he realized, would never be in his control.
Maybe that was the point. And maybe he wasn’t supposed to be perfect, either.
Because it was a fucking mess. Life was supposed to be hard, messy, beautiful, wonderful, painful—all of it.
Controlling his heart had been an illusion all along.
It took loving Wyatt for him to finally see it.
John glanced down at the edge he stood close to and once more scrubbed his hands over his face, thinking about Wyatt… his brother… his family…
He somehow could feel Jacob. He could feel the weight of death pressing onto his shoulders and how fragile life could be.
“Johnny,” the wind seemed to whisper. He glanced over his shoulder on the ledge and saw him—Jacob.
He was dressed the way he remembered him.
Casual, loose-fitting jeans, a band T-shirt, and his dark hair brushed back from his strikingly handsome face with the haunted blue eyes that just didn’t seem to belong.
Jacob, young and alive, was standing in the sunlight with him on the edge of the world. And then, without hesitation, he stepped off. John sucked in a harsh breath, watching his brother fall. His gut swooped and his heart kicked, but he didn’t follow—he couldn’t. He had so many reasons to stay.
So many reasons to live.
And one reason was inside, sitting on a hospital gurney, asking him to stay.
John stumbled backward from the ledge, his knees buckling as he sank into himself and cried.