Chapter Twenty-Five
Hollis
“T here you are,” an unfamiliar voice says. “How are you feeling?”
I blink in confusion. I’m in the hospital. “What’s going on?”
“You, sir, are getting ready for surgery. I’m your nurse, Fran. Dr. Edmond will be in soon to go over what he’ll be doing.” She smiles. “Your parents are here to see you.”
Parents?
Dread washes over me, making the heart rate monitor beep like crazy. I don’t have a second to process her words before Mom rushes in. Her eyes are red from crying or fatigue, I’m not sure.
“Oh, baby,” she croons, grabbing my hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were so sick.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her in the brightest tone I can muster.
“You’re not fine,” a deep voice booms. “Your stomach is bleeding, son. That hole is only going to get bigger left untreated.”
I cringe, closing my eyes. “Why is he here?”
“I’m sorry,” Mom whispers. “I am.”
“I’m here because you’re my son,” Dad says with such arrogance I want to slap him.
“You kicked us out,” I mutter, lacking the energy I crave to yell at him.
“I’m not here to fight.” Dad regards me with a haggard expression. “I’m worried about you.”
Hot tears burn in my eyes. I blink them away. I hate my father. I hate that he’s here. I especially hate that a tiny part of me misses him. That same little boy always seeking impossible approval.
“The CT scan showed no signs of peritonitis, which is fantastic news because if you were septic, that’d change the ballgame, son.” He places his hands on his hips. “The hole is decent and will only grow if they don’t repair it. If we were back home, I’d do it myself, but luckily I’m here and I’ll be able to advise the surgeons here on what to do.”
Oh, God.
Mom rolls her eyes at him. “Perhaps you should go discuss it with the doctor now.”
“Dr. Edmond is on his way,” Fran chimes in. “You might find him in the hall. You should hurry.” She winks at me.
Dad smiles, patting the top of my head. “We’ll talk after, Hollis. I love you.”
I look away from him, tears brimming in my eyes.
“I thought we’d never get him out of here,” Mom grumbles. “How you doing, baby?”
“I’m tired. I want to see Roan.”
Mom’s smile is weak. “After surgery, okay?”
“Is he okay? Is he wrecked?” Guilt swarms inside me as I worry about how he feels. He was destroyed about them taking Roux and then I got sent to the hospital. There’s no telling that boy’s state of mind right now.
“He’s been better,” Mom says. “He had to leave.”
“Mom…”
“He took Mike’s truck.” She frowns. “Roan’s a big boy. He can handle himself. Right now, we need to focus on you.”
“Mom, he’s going to do something dumb. He’s messed up right now. Why didn’t you try to stop him?”
She takes my hand. “Because you need me more than he does right now.”
“You almost ready?” Fran asks as she checks my vitals.
No.
I’m not ready.
I need to make sure Roan’s okay.
“Where’s my phone?” I demand. “I need it.”
Mom digs through a bag at her feet. “Here you go.”
I dial Roan’s number and it goes to voicemail.
Fuck.
“Make it quick,” Fran warns. “I can hear Dr. Edmond outside that door. He’s no nonsense. When he comes in, he’ll want to take you right back to surgery.”
Ignoring her, I flip through my numbers until I find Jordy’s. Roan gave it to me once for emergencies. I’d laughed it off, assuming I’d never have to call him, but here we are having a goddamn emergency.
“What?” he snaps.
“It’s me. Hollis.”
“Rat? Where’s Roan?” The instant fear in his voice sets me on edge.
“Not here. I’m afraid he’s going to do something stupid.”
“What do you mean? Why aren’t you with him?” he demands.
“I’m about to go in for emergency stomach surgery.” I close my eyes. “They, uh…they took Roux back to her mom’s.”
“They did fucking what?” he roars.
“Roan was here and now he’s not. For him to leave me, something bad is going to happen. Please help him, Jordy. Please.”
He curses. “Right. Okay. I’m on it.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“Rat…”
“Yeah?”
“Stay alive. For Roan.”
“I’ll do my best, man.”
“Still want to be a firefighter?” I ask, running my fingertip along the grooves between his abs.
“Yeah.”
“I always wanted to bone a firefighter.”
“Freak.” Roan chuckles, his stomach muscles tensing in a delicious way that makes me want to lick them. “What are you gonna be? Not a doctor, which sucks because I need a sugar daddy.”
I swat his stomach. “Maybe Mike will be your sugar daddy.”
“Gross,” he says with a laugh. “I think Mike wants to be your mom’s sugar daddy.”
“What? No fucking way.”
“Dude, have you seen the way he eyes your mom’s ass?”
No. I’m going to kill him.
“Aww, little Hollis is getting mad because someone likes his mom.”
“Fuck off.”
“Only if you’re fucking off with me.”
I tilt my head up to look at him. He rolls his body onto mine and kisses me. Sometimes his kisses are vulnerable and sweet. Those kisses imbed their way into my heart. It’s times like this that I realize I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep Roan Hirsch as mine. Whatever it takes.
“So no doctor. What then? Substitute teacher?”
“You have a fetish for substitute teachers,” I grumble.
“It’s your fault. You showed up in your spiffy coat and your expensive car. I can’t help it I fell for the whole gig.”
“Fell, huh?”
Instead of responding, he playfully bites my jaw. “Tell me.”
“I like the idea of helping people, but I refuse to give my soul to a hospital. Dad lost us when he married medicine.”
Roan kisses me again, softer. Gently. Like he can kiss away the pain inside me—pain Dad is responsible for.
“Maybe a paramedic,” I say thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m tough like you to want to run into burning buildings. But helping them once you bring them out to me, I can do.”
“Oh,” Roan teases, “I like the idea of you looking hot in your suit and standing in front of an ambulance. Definitely going to jack off to this image later.”
I grab his ass and squeeze. “Make sure you call me when you do because I’ll be doing the same thing thinking about you in all that heavy fireman’s gear.”
“I might have already jacked off to fantasies of you as my teacher.”
We both laugh.
“You want a lesson, huh?” I tease. “You’re nice and clean after your shower. Maybe I’ll give you a lesson in rimming.”
“Eating ass?”
“Pay attention,” I say in a firm, authoritative tone, “and you’re to not speak crudely in my classroom, young man.”
His smile is deviant, and his eyes light up with wickedness. “Yes, Mr. English.”
Damn, when this bad boy is obedient, he really gets my dick hard.
“Good boy.”
“Hollis.”
“Hollis.”
“Hollis.”
I wake from my dreams, confused and unaware of where I’m at. All I know is it’s warm. It’s quiet. I’m on a cloud.
“You’re coming off the anesthesia,” a man says. “The surgery went well. While the perforation wasn’t too big, it was surrounded by some abscesses that needed to be drained. We’ve closed up the hole and fixed you right up.”
My eyelids are too heavy.
I drift off.
All I see is amber.
Eyes.
Eyes.
His eyes.
Roan.