7 Months (Time for Love 8)
They sat in the chairs closest to me, and Marsha’s already worried face took in my position on the floor.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just don’t like hospitals,” I admitted, hoping they didn’t ask me any further questions. The last thing I needed was to be trapped in a hospital waiting room being pestered with personal questions about my past and my feelings … That was my definition of hell.
Luckily, the doctor chose that moment to come into the waiting room and give us an update.
“Mr. Dubois’s surgery went well. He’s resting and should make a full recovery.”
Smitty asked the doctor something, but my brain had flooded with relief at the clarification that my partner was fine, so I missed it.
“O’Malley can go first.”
The sound of my name brought me back to the present, and I stood up as I asked, “What?”
“You’ve been here a long time and look like you could really us
e some rest, so you should go and see Tyler first. Smitty and I can wait,” Marsha answered, and I gave her as much of a grateful grin as I could muster.
Other than the fact that I’d never watched him sleeping, and his arm was in a sling, Doobie looked pretty much the same as always.
“Hey, man,” I said softly as I walked up to his bed, unsure of whether I should sit or stand. I ended up just standing there, awkwardly staring down at him.
“Irish, you made it,” Doobie said with a half-hearted smile, then he took in my demeanor and asked, “Something happen?”
I looked at him, confused.
“No, well, you got shot, I shot one of the robbers, and the other one was apprehended by Trumbo and lot. Why?”
“You just look pretty strung out,” he replied, then he looked at me slyly and added, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried about me.”
“Uh…”
“I’m okay, Irish, just a scratch.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for? You didn’t shoot me.”
“No, but I shot him and he got a shot off … which hit you.”
“A plus C, doesn’t equal B, O’Malley. Don’t get what happened twisted in your head.”
I nodded, not sure that I saw it the same way, but not wanting to argue my point with an injured man.
“You under investigation for the shooting?” he asked, flinching when he shifted on the bed.
“Yeah, took my badge and did an interview. I’ll be on mandatory leave for a couple of days.”
“I guess makes two of us,” Doobie replied, causing me to laugh sharply.
“I guess so.”
When he laid his head back and shut his eyes, I said, “Well, I’ll let you rest. Be back tomorrow.”
“Careful, Irish,” Doobie warned with his eyes still closed. “Keep it up and I’m gonna think you’re falling for me.”
“Suck it,” I replied, smiling when he laughed in response, then I walked out of the room.