Dylan (Inked Brotherhood 4)

I catch my bus, and damn if I’m not hard all the way home, thinking about her, remembering what it felt like being inside her, touching her, holding her.

What a fucking huge mistake. As I climb off the bus and walk the rest of the way home, I decide I can keep beating myself over it forever or put my mind to other tasks and forget.

Well, when I reach home, the choice is taken out of my hands. Teo is sick once again.

This is what hell must be like, I think. It feels as if the damn floor has been ripped from under my feet. I sit by Teo’s side, listening to my neighbor, Kate, tell me how he seemed well enough when I left but later started complaining he was cold and got cranky. He has a fever, and I dip the washcloth into the small basin by the bed and replace it on his sweaty forehead.

Miles is watching us from the other side of the bed, his small face sad and a little frightened. I hook my finger, and he comes around to me. Putting an arm around his bony shoulders, I try to decide what to do. I squeeze him closer, and some of the fear fades from his face.

“He’s been sick too often,” Kate says, thermometer in hand. “You should take him to a doctor.”

“Last time I did, the doctor said it was a virus.” But he’s been sick on and off for weeks now. What should I do? “Dammit. I’ll take him.”

“I’m going with you,” Miles says, tugging on my sleeve. “Dylan, I’m going with you.”

I nod. I see he’s close to panic, something new with Miles, who’s always be

en a quiet and calm kid. “Okay. Go get your jacket. I’ll call a cab.”

“Charlie can drive you,” Kate says, wiping her hands on her skirt. “You should change, Dylan. You’re dripping wet.”

I wipe a hand over my face and get up to find dry clothes. Then I carefully wrap Teo in blankets and lift him from the bed.

“Let’s go.” Miles is zipping up his jacket. He follows me outside, where Charlie is already in the car, the passenger door open. I herd Miles to the back with one hand on his head. He opens the door and climbs inside, and I wait until he’s fastened his seatbelt before I climb into the front.

I sigh with relief as settle down and shut the door. “Hey, Charlie. Thanks for this.”

“No problem,” he says and drives away.

Cradling Teo close, I stare out into the rain-slicked road and forbid myself to fear and wonder. We’ll find out what is wrong with him and fix it. No other alternative is acceptable.

We stop outside the ER, and I manage to get Miles out of the car and take his hand to lead him inside, all the while holding Teo, who’s slumped on my shoulder. Charlie honks, and I glance at him, hoping he can hear me telepathically saying thank you and goodbye.

He must, because he rolls away, and the car vanishes in the rain that’s now pouring. I stumble a little as we enter the familiar waiting room. Disoriented. Feels like yesterday we were here to have Teo checked. I head to the window to get a number and show my insurance card.

We take our seats, and I try to make Teo comfortable. He squirms and then starts to wail. Poor little guy is burning up, and I look around for a nurse, getting a bit desperate.

I chat up the first one I see, asking her if we can speed up the process, and she purses her lips.

“I don’t think we can change the procedure,” she says, “Mr.…?”

“Hayes. Dylan Hayes.”

“Mr. Hayes. Lots of people are waiting. You’re not the only one.”

Dammit.

Miles, who’s been trailing us, clings to my leg. I follow the nurse, dragging my leg with Miles attached to it like a monkey, and holding a sniffling Teo so close the heat of his fever is burning through my jacket.

My heart is hammering against my ribs. The nurse is talking to a young doctor, her back to us. I need to do something. I know I said I won’t allow myself to feel fear, but without any idea what is wrong with Teo, I can imagine any number of bad outcomes.

I’d do anything for my brothers. I’d crawl, I’d fight, I’d beg and I’d die in their place. What I can’t take is stand here helpless and watch them suffer.

I enter the room, dragging Miles along. “Sorry to interrupt,” I say, and both doctor and nurse look at me with matching frowns on their faces. “But he’s really sick and has been for a while. I think it’s serious.” And damn I hate it when my voice breaks, but hell, if that helps, then I’ll weep like a little girl to get their attention. “He’s been feeling unwell for weeks now, and he has a fever. Please.”

The doctor frowns. “For weeks?”

“Yeah.”