Adore (On My Knees Duet 2)

“I’m sorry,” the nurse behind the desk says. “Dr. Todd is not on call. You’ll need to bring the patient inside if he needs emergency care.”

“He can’t walk.” And then I can’t hold back. Another nurse walks up, and I hiss, “It’s Luke McDowell. My brother. He’s really sick. His assistant said this is his preferred hospital.”

That starts all the whispers and the long glances. But I made the right call. Just a minute or two later, I’m leading two EMTs—they’re carrying a stretcher—out to the Tesla, opening the door. I find Luke lying on his back with his eyes open. He looks miserable.

Someone pushes me aside, and the two guys lift him up onto the stretcher. He lifts his head a little, looking for my eyes, I think.

“I’m right here, dude.”

He tries to move his head as they carry him into a curtained space and shift him from stretcher to bed. Luke starts coughing. Really coughing. That brings more nurses. Several stand around his bed frowning and talking. He’s shaking so fucking hard. Someone presses a stethoscope to his chest, and he seems shrink into the pillow. A nurse seated right by his bed gets up, and his eyes pull open. He looks around.

“Vance?” His eyes start to roll back in his head before they fix on my face.

A nurse says, “Let’s get pressers, too,” and then another one takes his arm. “How do you feel, Mr. McDowell?”

He looks at her. I can barely hear his voice as he half-wheezes. “Not good.”

“I’m going to start an IV, but let’s talk while I prep your arm.”

His eyes drift shut. He shivers harder, and I wish someone would put some goddamn blankets on him.

A male nurse leans over his head, holding something that looks wand-like. It beeps. “One-oh-six here on the forehead.”

Three more people pour in. Everything seems to move quickly. Luke’s eyes pop open, and the nurse that’s been at his arm says, “Got him.” I realize she’s taping an IV into the inner crevice of his arm that’s opposite me.

Luke is wincing.

“Did you hurt him? He hates needles.”

The nurse gives me a flat-lipped look. Then she hangs an IV bag on a stand by him.

I move over toward him, and another nurse holds her arm out. “Sir, you need to step back. Are you a family member?”

“I’m his brother.”

A man down by his feet looks up, giving me a skeptic’s frown. “Luke McDowell doesn’t have a brother.”

“We’re half brothers,” I snap. “I think I would know.”

His eyes open again as all the nurses swarm him. Someone looks into his mouth. Another person prods his chest and stomach. Luke’s hand grips the railing, like he wants to grab it and pull up. Someone moves it.

“Keep your hands at by your sides, pastor. We’re trying to get you assessed.”

By the time the curtained space clears out some a minute later, he’s got IVs running into both arms, and a woman in pink scrubs is sitting by him opposite of me. She’s placing square stickers onto his chest.

“We’re going to get an EKG, Mr. McDowell.”

His fevered eyes roll toward her. His lips part, and his eyes narrow. Then he points his gaze at me.26VanceWhile the woman messes with those fucking stickers, Luke’s gaze clings to my face.

He’s still shaking so hard, sometimes I think it actually startles him more awake. He gets another round of bad shivering, and I swear I think I see tears in his eyes before he shuts them.

The nurse leaves the stickers on him and gets up with her clip board. When the curtains swish behind her, Luke cracks open his eyes. He looks down at himself, at the sticker lead around one of his shaking fingers and the IVs he’s got going in each arm. He cuts his eyes sideways to see the tube of oxygen that’s running into his nose, and then I’m sure about it—his eyes well with tears.

He squeezes them shut, and his chest starts to rise and fall more sharply.

I crouch down right by him. “Hey, McD.” It’s so natural to touch him—my hands in his hair, my palm draped gently over his hot forehead.

“Vance?” He grits his teeth as his body quakes. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t.”

He gives me a jerky nod. A tear slides slowly toward his temple. I stroke his hair back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” His eyes squeeze shut. Another tear streaks down his fever-pink cheek.

I kiss carefully along its trek. “How do you feel? What’s hurting?”

A man in a white coat walks in, and I practically jump away from Luke. The nurse peels Luke’s thin hospital blanket down, exposing his his hip on my side. Luke jerks, and then groans—and I realize the man just shot him up with something.

“What the hell is—”

“Sir, when someone has got a fever this high, we give them some medicine to relax them and help stop their shaking. Mr.—”