Wes gives me a look. “I’m sick, but I still know how to get to the hospital.”
“Just making sure,” I say with a smile and try to rush forward and open the car door for him, but he beats me to it. “Are you going to call Owen?”
“I’ll text him. Hopefully this shit doesn’t take long,” he grumbles. “I’d be fine if I went home, you know.”
I start the Jeep and shake my head. “Why must you perpetuate the stereotype and be so difficult? Though you’re not complaining nearly as much as the average man.”
“Being sick is too time-consuming.”
“I totally agree. It’s a huge inconvenience. But taking care of yourself—like going to the hospital—will speed up your recovery. Who knows? Maybe by tomorrow, you’ll feel a lot better because you got treatment. And if you didn’t…”
“I would have suffered miserably for weeks.”
“There’s that overdramatic attitude I was looking for.” I take my eyes off the road to look over and see the small smile on his face. He’s quiet the rest of the way to the hospital, and we end up waiting over half an hour before we’re taken back into a room in the ER. Things drag again after that, and it’s been over an hour before he’s finally given an IV and meds.
“Thanks for coming,” Wes says, looking into my eyes for a quick second before diverting his gaze to the floor. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” I say softly, shifting my weight. I’m sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to the bed. “But I’m glad I did.”
“Me too.” He starts to reach for my hand but is stopped by his IV line. My heart skips a beat and I get to my feet, words burning in my throat. Words that want to come out. Words I’m not entirely sure I know the meaning of.
“Scarlet,” he starts and pushes himself up. My lips part and my heart pounds away in my chest, so loud I’m sure Wes can hear it.
“Weston,” I say back with a smile, shuffling closer. I take his hand and he links his fingers through mine. He circles his thumb along the soft flesh on the inside of my wrist. I bring my free hand forward, brushing his hair back behind his ear.
There’s nothing romantic about this moment. We’re standing in a crammed ER room while Wes gets IV fluids due to dehydration. And yet I’ve never felt something more intimate. Then again, I know nothing about love.
I bring my hand down and cup his face. Wes closes his eyes and leans his face into my palm. He tightens his grip on my hand and I can feel his heart racing along with mine.
And then someone knocks on the door. I drop my hand that’s on Weston’s face but keep a hold of his hand.
“Hey.” Archer pulls back the curtain, and Wes takes his hand out of mine. “I saw your name in the system. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” Wes tells his almost brother-in-law.
“I’m surprised you didn’t say ‘fine,’” I tease.
“I didn’t read your chart,” Archer says. “What’s going on?”
“He’s had a high fever for three days and finally let me take him to the doctor this morning.” I give Wes a telling look and then smile.
“There’s a nasty virus going around,” Archer tells us. “The ER has been busy.” He pulls out the little rolling stool I’ve always been too afraid to sit on. What if the doctor came in and yelled at me? “Are you being admitted overnight?”
“No,” Wes says. “And I won’t stay even if they say I should. I’ll be fine at home.”
Archer and I give Wes the same dubious look.
“This virus is serious. It’s put a few people in the ICU already. Take care of yourself so you can take care of Jackson,” Archer tells Wes, using his you better listen to me because I’m a doctor tone. Wes just grumbles in response, and Archer tells him he’ll check back later if we’re still here. He’s off to perform another surgery.
“Oh shit,” Wes says after Archer leaves.
“What?”
“I didn’t tell him not to tell Quinn.”
“You think he will?”
Wes raises an eyebrow. “I know he will.”
“That’s not a bad thing. They’re concerned about you because they care.” Like I do.
“Once Quinn knows, she’ll tell our mother.”
“That’s not a bad thing either,” I press. “It’s nice the way you guys all look out for each other.”
His eyes meet mine and something passes between us, something unsaid, something I can’t describe, but it’s in that moment it’s like he knows.
He knows I’d give anything to have a family like his.
“I know,” he says softly. “It’s really nice and I shouldn’t complain about it. I don’t like people doting over me.”
“Well, you’re still a big, strong man even when you’re lying here in the hospital, you know.”